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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39544-h.zip b/39544-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3247e15 --- /dev/null +++ b/39544-h.zip diff --git a/39544-h/39544-h.htm b/39544-h/39544-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7dd1183 --- /dev/null +++ b/39544-h/39544-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18321 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Incendiary, by W. A. Leahy. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Incendiary, by W. A. (William Augustine) Leahy + +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 Incendiary + A Story of Mystery + +Author: W. A. (William Augustine) Leahy + +Release Date: April 27, 2012 [EBook #39544] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INCENDIARY *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>THE INCENDIARY</h1> + +<h3>A Story of Mystery.</h3> + +<h2>BY W. A. LEAHY.</h2> + + +<p class="center">CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:<br /> +RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY,<br /> +MDCCCXCVII.</p> + +<p class="center">A PRIZE STORY<br /> +In <span class="smcap">The Chicago Record</span> series of "Stories of Mystery."</p> + +<p class="center">THE INCENDIARY</p> + +<p class="center">BY <span class="smcap">W. A. Leahy.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(This story—out of 816 competing—was awarded the fourth prize in the<br /> +<span class="smcap">Chicago Record's</span> "$30,000 to Authors" competition.)</p> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1896, by W. A. Leahy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE INCENDIARY.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>FANFARE: THE PLAY BEGINS.</h3> + + +<p>It was about half-past three in the afternoon when Bertha, the +housemaid, came running down the steps, with a shrill cry of "Fire!" and +fell plump into the arms of the bake-shop girl, who had seen the smoke +curling from Prof. Arnold's window and was hastening across to warn the +occupants of his house. The deep bark of a dog was heard within and +presently Sire, the professor's old St. Bernard, rushed by the two young +women and darted hither and thither, accosting the bystanders +distractedly, as if burdened with a message he could not communicate.</p> + +<p>"Ring the alarm!" cried Bertha and the bake-shop girl in a breath, as +soon as they had recovered from the shock of their collision. Their cry +was taken up by a knot of three boys, who, as usual, were the first on +the spot; passed along till it reached some loungers on the corner, +whose inertia was more gradually overcome; and presently half the +neighborhood, as if by a spontaneous impulse, came thronging into +Cazenove street, each following his leader, like a flock of startled +ewes. Bertha, caught in the middle of this ring of sight-seers, stood +paralyzed a moment; then singling out the one man of action, she broke +through the crowd and stopped him midway in his advance.</p> + +<p>"For the love of heaven, will you ring the alarm?"</p> + +<p>The postman turned and scudded to the box. There was an interval of +suspense that seemed an age.</p> + +<p>"Is there any one in the house?" was the first question of Patrolman +Chandler, when he galloped up to the scene. He had been attracted at +once by the barking of Sire.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Robert," cried Bertha, wringing her hands. "Mr. Robert was in the +study." The crowd looked up and measured the swift gains of the +destructive element.</p> + +<p>"Young Floyd?" said Chandler. Then he rushed into the house and up the +first flight of winding stairs, the dog, as he did so, following him +with a great fusillade of delighted barks.</p> + +<p>"There's some one inside," said the crowd, and the rumor passed from +mouth to mouth.</p> + +<p>"Fire! Fire!" called Chandler from the corridor window above. "Yell, you +fellows, as you never yelled before!"</p> + +<p>In response a cry of "Fire!" went up from man, woman and child, bass and +treble intermingling, loud enough to have waked the seven sleepers from +their trance. But no one stirred inside. Just at this moment the tardy +bells rang out the number of the box, and almost immediately, as an +engine came rounding a distant corner and the great gray horses bounded +up the grade, the uproar began to subside. On, on, past the doomed +house, now enveloped in flames, to the nearest hydrant, the driver +lashed his pair. The hydrant cover had been thrown off and the first +block of coal flung into the engine's furnace before Patrolman Chandler +reissued from the door which he had entered.</p> + +<p>"There is no one there," he gasped, as if choking with the smoke. But +the dog continued to leap about, accosting the bystanders appealingly, +until his barks and pawing became a nuisance to several and they spurned +him pettishly away.</p> + +<p>Now engines from many directions came clattering by and the air was full +of clangor. Lines of hose were unraveled, ladders hoisted against the +walls, and finally, amid hoarse shouts that pierced the deep sighing of +the flames within, a rubber-clad, helmeted fellow, with a nozzle +strapped to his body, slowly led a line up to the second-story window, +where the fire had apparently started. There was another interval of +suspense, orders to and fro, and then a helpless pause. Something +refused to work.</p> + +<p>But the fire met no such impediment. Suddenly an explosion of uncertain +origin shook the air, and the onlookers retreated in terror, as if the +ground were yawning beneath them. Of a sudden one, two, three slack, +snaky hose lines rounded out, and a burst of foam, battering in +window-panes and sashes, inaugurated the great combat of elements—one +angry, vindictive, as if ravening to sunder the bonds of control cast +about it by the pigmy, its master, the other docile and benignant, but +in the end the more puissant of the two.</p> + +<p>"Exactly nine minutes from the start before a drop of water fell on that +fire," said the bake-shop girl, who was noted for her accurate +observation of time. By the "start" she meant the moment when Bertha and +she collided on the doorsteps, but the fire must have gained a strong +headway before that. For every timber in the house was flaming now. The +heat scorched the firemen's cheeks and made frightened children in the +windows opposite turn away. All the neighbors were packing up their +valuables, preparing for the worst. Singed and blinded, the firemen had +been driven back down their ladders and compelled to fight from the +street. At 3:40 the district chief ordered a second alarm rung in, and, +as this was followed by another explosion, a third alarm immediately +after. Amid a great clanging of bells, engine after engine, with drivers +standing at the reins and firemen riding backward, drove up and sought +out positions of vantage.</p> + +<p>With the arrival of Chief Federhen their plan of attack seemed to assume +a definite shape at once. The ding, ding, ding, of his light carriage, +riding over distended and bedraggled hose, told the impatience of the +man on the seat. A tall, gaunt figure, wrapped in a cloak, which he +threw off as the excitement grew on him, he first turned his attention +to the police and the crowd.</p> + +<p>"We want room to do this work in," he cried in a loud voice, and the +bluecoats began vigorously routing the onlookers back until the fire was +to them like something seen through an inverted opera glass, and the +sagging ropes nearly broke under the black weight of humanity which they +fended off.</p> + +<p>Federhen's practiced eye saw the doom of the dwelling-house. So he +called off his engines and threw up ladders against the great mercantile +buildings to leeward and in the rear. It was from one of these, +presumably the fireworks-room of Schnitzler Bros., that the second +explosion, scattered and prolonged like an enfilading volley of +musketry, had come, and already a thatch of flame had run around under +the projecting roof of the structure. Against this the fire tower was +slowly brought into position and sloped over, its tip just topping the +eaves, but the axes of the squad sent up failed to make any impression +on the solid sheathing of the roof. When the tower ladder itself began +to take fire, and a stream had to be played on it constantly, the order +was given, none too early, "Come down!" and the firemen's first +ambition, to get above the enemy, had to be abandoned for less +efficacious measures. Fountain jets, rising from the street, and level +streams from the roofs of the dwelling-houses opposite, did their +ineffectual best to quench the red thirst of the triumphing element.</p> + +<p>"This is glorious!"</p> + +<p>"Tristram!"</p> + +<p>The girl pulled a dolman over her shoulders, fear simulating cold, +before the savage dance of the flames. Their carriage had passed through +Broad street, in the rear of Cazenove, a few minutes before, and when +the alarm sounded Tristram had ordered the coachman to turn and drive +them back.</p> + +<p>"Glorious, Rosalie!" he repeated, looking up at the red streamers and +the swirling smoke.</p> + +<p>"It was just here we met your friend, Harry Arnold," murmured Rosalie. +"Did you notice he had only one glove on?"</p> + +<p>"Glorious!" echoed her enraptured brother, as a section of the wall +fell in, disclosing an oven view like the interior of a Bessemer blast +furnace.</p> + +<p>"See the horses pawing. The sparks will fall on them. Let us drive +away."</p> + +<p>"My palette!" was Tristram's answer. "Brush! Easel! Canvas! Oh, the lost +chance of a lifetime!"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't it make you shudder?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear. That is the very deliciousness of it"</p> + +<p>"But the danger!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you know I'm a perfect Bluebeard in the taste for horrors. I really +envy Parrhasius his enjoyment in flaying the old slave—or did he flog +him? But it's of no consequence which. He tortured him somehow, you +remember, and chained him to a stake in his studio, so that he might +paint Prometheus' writhings to the life."</p> + +<p>But just here something happened which cut short his tirade of irony.</p> + +<p>It was on the Broad street side of the Harmon building (such the great +six-story structure was called), just where the Marches' coachman had +halted their span, that the most pitiful incident of this memorable fire +took place. By 4 o'clock everybody conceded that the Harmon building was +lost. Occupied principally by dry-goods firms, whose light wares, spread +over the counters, were like so much hay to the flames, it needed +scarcely more than the touch of a match to convert it into smoke. At the +sound of the second explosion hundreds of salesgirls and male employes +had rushed to the exits, barely outstripping the fire. It was supposed +that all had been warned and escaped, and only a signal shriek from the +top story in the rear notified the beholders that human lives were in +peril. Looking up, they saw at the windows a dozen girls and half as +many youths huddling together with the blanched faces of deadly fear. +Thick smoke was already curling up and enveloping them and reflections +of the flames, like an aurora rising in the north, were visible behind. +The cries they made could not be understood, but their gestures were +dumbly eloquent.</p> + +<p>"Jump!" came the cry from a hundred throats below. A teamster pulled +the rubber covers off the Protective company's wagon. Firemen and +policemen improvised nets of canvas, which they tore from the awnings +near by and spread under the shrinking group. Two or three of the girls, +who leaped for a telegraph pole on the outer edge of the sidewalk, +almost miraculously succeeded in scrambling down. Others climbed out on +the ledge and made as if to jump, but drew back from the awful plunge. +The fire was upon them now, and one could weep to see the men, brave +fellows, coaxing their timid companions to take the leap. One woman of +coarser build ran along the dizzy ledge, which scarcely yielded footing +for a sparrow, and sprang into the branches of a tree on the corner, her +dress saving her at the cost of fearful laceration. Then a form came +crashing down into the outspread nets, another and another, without +pause, without certainty of aim. Two struck the sidewalk and were +carried off shapeless and silent. One young girl's fall was broken by a +policeman's brawny arms—no other than Patrolman Chandler. She picked +herself up laughing, only to faint away, while her rescuer was borne off +groaning. It was all over soon—a tragedy of five minutes—but those who +witnessed it felt as if their hearts had been standing still for a +century.</p> + +<p>"Let us drive away," said Rosalie, a sickness seizing her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Tristram; "the people are beginning to stare at you." +His sensitive lips were pale and he shut his eyes lest their film of +pity should be seen. It was true, some of the bystanders had pointed out +his companion to one another as Rosalie March. The face of this +beautiful girl had become familiar since Manager Mapletree the season +before had persuaded her to come out from the privacy of her home and +assume two or three roles in his revival of Shakespeare's comedies. +Perhaps they wondered who the gentleman beside her might be. Brother and +sister bore each other little specific resemblance.</p> + +<p>"What's that carriage halting here for? Do you think this is a +procession? Pass on!" cried Federhen to the coachman, who whipped up his +horses in a hurry. The police had not yet got around to this side of +the block, but the fire chief seemed at all times to be where the crisis +was. At a word from him ambulances arose from the very ground and the +dead and injured were carried off to the hospital. His straggly gray +beard confronted the fire-fighters everywhere, goading on the laggards, +cheering the valiant. Indomitable, tireless, he sent them again and +again at the ruined shell, drowning the neighboring dwelling-houses +meanwhile in a flood of water. The calm air favored him. People said +"him," for somehow the forces of salvation seemed to be embodied and +centralized in one implacable form. But the wind created by the fire was +carrying sparks and brands to a distance of half a mile. The awed +spectators winced and scattered at these hot showers. It was still a +speculation where the holocaust would end.</p> + +<p>If the Southern depot caught, then the whole Bay quarter, a warren of +tinder-box tenements, swarming densely with poor tenants, was in peril. +To save the depot was to win the day. But special editions of the +newspapers, appearing at 5 o'clock, were only able to announce, under +half-column scare-heads, that the result was still in doubt; and when +twilight came it was not the sunset glow (for a storm was gathering in +the overcast sky) which burnished the factory windows across the harbor +till they shone like plates of gold.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>MIDNIGHT—ALL'S WELL.</h3> + + +<p>"Accident is out of the question, John Davidson." The hands of the clock +were moving toward midnight in Klein's restaurant, but mugs were still +clinking, dishes rattling and waiters hurriedly cleansing soiled tables +with their towels. The freedom of the saloon had been extended to the +victorious fire-fighters, who, after supping with Duke Humphrey, were +not at all reluctant to lunch with Commoner Klein.</p> + +<p>"A health to Carl Klein," shouted one, tossing a tumblerful high in air.</p> + +<p>"Your health!" the place echoed, as the whole group stood up and shouted +a rousing toast. They were tough, middle-sized fellows, all of them, of +the true fireman's build, which is just a shade taller and broader than +a sailor's. The smiling old German hovered near and bowed and rubbed his +hands in appreciation. To judge from the girth under his apron, he was +himself a worshiper of the worthy trinity, breakfast, dinner and supper, +which he served. The two men chattering in low tones at a side table had +not stood up or noticed the interruption.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it, McCausland," answered John Davidson, the fire +marshal. "There is no motive. It's devilish. It's beneath flesh and +blood. Four lives already and heaven knows how many more. It isn't in +human kind to do that without a reason."</p> + +<p>"Mankind is my kind, too," answered McCausland, pleasantly, but in such +a manner as to convey the idea that he was a diver of some experience +into the deep-sea depths of human turpitude. "But suppose we look at the +status quo. Everybody—Wotherspoon, Chandler and all the others—agreed +that the fire must have been going some time when the servant-girl ran +out of the house. If her story is to be believed, and she never turned a +hair under cross-questioning, you'll allow?"</p> + +<p>"The girl's fair spoken, I admit that," answered the marshal.</p> + +<p>"Then the blaze started in a room two flights above the only fire which +was going in the house, and that one a low coal fire in the cook stove. +The cook stove and the study-hearth get their drafts from different +chimneys. No possible connection there?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered the marshal, for McCausland's last inflection had been +slightly interrogative.</p> + +<p>"The cast-away cigar doesn't fit," continued his companion, telling off +the thumb on his chubby left hand. "There was no tobacco allowed in the +house. Mungovan, their last coachman, was discharged for smoking on the +sly. The professor was eccentric, you know, and this was the stanchest +of his dogmas."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"No boys with firecrackers playing around. It's the lull between the +17th of June and the Fourth."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"No phosphorescent rat-bane on the premises," went on McCausland, +telling off finger after finger. "You heard what the domestic said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she was positive about that."</p> + +<p>"Because they were not troubled with mice. Another accidental cause +removed. But if rodents were swarming like flies in a meat shop, I don't +see what substance more combustible than the pasted bindings of old +books they could have found in that library to nibble. The lucifers were +all kept in a safe downstairs, excepting a few for the sleeping-rooms."</p> + +<p>"That's true, but——"</p> + +<p>"Number six," interrupted McCausland. "What shall it be? Cotton waste +taking fire spontaneously? Benzine? Naphtha varnish? Celluloid? None of +them about, according to Bertha. I'm at my rope's end. Where are you?"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose they have been as careful since the professor died?" +asked the marshal.</p> + +<p>"That was only four days ago and the study has been locked ever since. +Only opened fifteen minutes before the fire."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you done guzzling yet?" broke in a strident tone of command from +the open door. Chief Federhen's face was haggard and sooty, and his +voice, naturally harsh, had a ragged edge from shouting that grated on +the ear like the squawking of a peacock. But the firemen leaped +immediately to attention. They did not resent their gray chief's +reprimand, for they knew that he himself had gone without any supper at +all and that he stood ready at that moment to lead wherever he ordered +them to follow. In personal courage, as well as generalship, he was +believed to be the foremost chief in the country, and, though not +exactly popular personally, he was professionally adored. Only the +insurance companies had ever ventured to criticise his bold methods, and +they, as everybody knows, are simple-minded idealists, who expect an +immunity from fire such as even the arctic regions can hardly enjoy.</p> + +<p>"Take your machine alongside of fourteen, Tyrrell, and keep two lines on +the Harmon building all night."</p> + +<p>"All right, chief," answered Capt. Tyrrell, and his men followed him out +through the curious crowd that stood peeking in on their collation.</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" exclaimed the marshal, raising his voice, now that they +were nearly alone.</p> + +<p>"Impossible, that's what I say," smiled McCausland; "we're not living in +fairyland. This is earth, where effects have causes."</p> + +<p>"But who would have the heart to set it?"</p> + +<p>McCausland shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"If that's your impossible," he replied, "in the case of my own son, I'd +rather his defense were a concrete alibi."</p> + +<p>Inspector McCausland was a detective of the good old school, renowned in +many states and not unknown to Scotland Yard and the keen Parisians. +Nature had favored him with an exterior of deceptive smoothness. No +vulpine contraction of the muzzle, such as would have suggested the +sleuth and invited suspicion. Round, florid, pleasant-faced, a little +sloping in the shoulders, decidedly suave of voice and genial in manner, +he did not look the figure to be feared. Yet some, not easily +frightened, would depart in haste from the neighborhood of Richard +McCausland.</p> + +<p>"The only living occupants of the room," he continued, unfolding his +chain of reasoning to the still skeptical marshal, "at the time when +Bertha went in, were the St. Bernard, Sire, whose barking had attracted +her attention upstairs, and the canary bird, whose life she tried to +save."</p> + +<p>"Probably the delicate creature was dead when she opened the door," said +the marshal.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, it is impossible that an old dog, sleeping on the mat, or +a golden-feathered songster, whistling in his cage, could be the author +of this fire——"</p> + +<p>"And loss of life."</p> + +<p>"If the housemaid is telling the truth there was some other cause; and +if she is lying," he concluded, arising to go, "it must be to cover up +carelessness or guilt, either on her own part or on the part of some one +in whom she takes an interest."</p> + +<p>Intimate associates found McCausland a rollicking companion; but, in the +pursuit of crime, he was a practical believer in the doctrine of total +depravity, or, rather, to be just, he knew the potential evil which is +harbored in every human heart until some life-or-death temptation +effects, perhaps, the wreck of honor and humanity.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is another feather in Federhen's cap," said the marshal, +cheerily, at the door.</p> + +<p>"He must share it with Jupiter Pluvius," answered McCausland.</p> + +<p>As dark came on there had been a heavy fall of rain, which dampened the +roofs and stifled many a darting tongue and incipient blaze in the +vicinity, though it appeared to have no more effect on the body of the +fire than so much fuel thrown into its maw. But it had enabled Federhen +to concentrate his streams, which before this had necessarily been +scattered about, protecting exposed points of danger. In fact, one or +two serious subsidiary fires had only been checked with the utmost +difficulty. If either of them had extended, and the Bay quarter once +fairly caught, 500 poor families might have been ruined and two hotels +and one depot would have been included in the loss.</p> + +<p>At 6:45 Federhen had issued an order to blow up the Columbia shoe store +building. Against the frantic protest of the owners his oracular answer +was "Necessity!" and a high-handed jostle of the remonstrants to one +side. The magazines were promptly laid and a wide space cleared. +Precision and dispatch followed, like two leashed hounds, in the +footsteps of the chief. At 7 o'clock, with a mammoth concussion, the +middle of the building seemed lifted bodily into midair. Its walls caved +in, and at once twenty lines of hose were wetting down the debris, while +pickax men began widening still further the breach on the side toward +the van of the approaching fire. This corner building laid low, the +flames were sixty yards away from the depot, and all their surging and +leaping failed to clear the gap. Confined at last, assaulted from every +side, drenched, smothered and confounded, they spent their rage in a +blind, internal fuming.</p> + +<p>Those who returned to visit the fire in the evening, attracted, perhaps, +by the noise of the last concussion, witnessed a miraculous +transformation. The black night made a spacious and harmonious +background for the flames, now a spectacle of sinister beauty, charging +heavenward solidly to great heights only to flutter back and writhe at +their manifest impotence. The streets below, flushed with rain, were +glistening in the lamplight and the awestruck wonder of the crowd had +subsided to a mere vulgar curiosity about details. Already the event was +old to many, its solemn lesson and the revelation of underlying forces +making only a shallow impress on shallow minds. Gangs of rowdies swung +to and fro, elbowing respectable sight-seers into the puddles and +rendering night hideous with their ill-timed pranks and depredations, +like prowlers stripping the slain after battle.</p> + +<p>The police were occupied guarding the ropes and ejecting without +ceremony all intruders whose credentials were imperfect. Lines of hose +lay about in inextricable confusion, half-buried in an amalgam of lake +water, litter and mud, while at every corner the engines still sent up +showers of sparks, the rhythm of their dull pumping resounding through +the city like the labored beatings of some giant heart. Comments on the +losses, the injuries, the probable hour when the flames would be +conquered, beguiled the ranks of spectators who lined the ropes, those +behind crushing forward as the front file yielded place, and drinking in +all they could (not much at that distance), until the exhaustion of +their interest in turn became evident by their repeated yawns. It was +Saturday night, the late night in America, but by 11 o'clock there were +gaps in the solid phalanxes and the homeward-bound stream far +outnumbered that flowing toward the still vigorous but dull-red and +smoke-colored sheet of fire.</p> + +<p>Eleven was just ringing when a young man rushed up to the lines +stretched across Cazenove street at its junction with Meridian, and half +by force, half by entreaty, breasted his way to the rope.</p> + +<p>"I wish to pass, officer; my property is among those burned," he said.</p> + +<p>"Your property?" echoed the policeman, a phlegmatic-looking fellow. The +youth was not over 21 and Higgins had heard this story at least a dozen +times within an hour. His orders were to throw the burden of proof in +every case upon the petitioner.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is to say, not mine, but my uncle's. I am a nephew of Prof. +Arnold and lived with him."</p> + +<p>The slight correction which the young man made in his explanation +evidently prejudiced his cause in the policeman's eyes—as if confusion +were a mark peculiar to the glib kinsmen of Ananias. The youth had +slipped under the rope and the crowd craned near, expecting an +altercation.</p> + +<p>"Get back there!" came the sharp rebuke, and a heavy hand was laid on +the young man's breast, gathering up the lapels of his coat and half his +vest bosom.</p> + +<p>"But my uncle's house is burned, I tell you," he protested.</p> + +<p>"Outside!"</p> + +<p>"I am also a member of the press."</p> + +<p>"Outside the ropes!"</p> + +<p>"You're a bully," cried the young citizen, pushing sturdily on his own +side and fairly holding his own. "Sergeant!"</p> + +<p>The sergeant in charge had come over when he saw trouble brewing and +stepped closer at this personal appeal.</p> + +<p>"I think you must know me. My name is Floyd. I am a nephew of Prof. +Arnold, in whose house the fire is said to have started. Am I refused +permission to pass the ropes?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid there's little to be seen of your uncle's house, Mr. Floyd," +quietly answered the sergeant, who knew him. "This gentleman is all +right, Higgins."</p> + +<p>Higgins nonchalantly moved a few steps off, doubtless reflecting that he +had only erred on the side of vigilance.</p> + +<p>"But the servants—do you know where they may be found?"</p> + +<p>"Try opposite. They're still at home. The wind was the other way, you +see."</p> + +<p>The young man sped up to the site of his former home. One look at the +black ruin sickened though it fascinated him. In that old-fashioned +house on the hill he had lived since infancy. Indeed, he had known no +other home, no other parent save the eccentric old professor, his uncle. +On Thursday, the body of Prof. Arnold had been carried away and laid in +another resting-place. Tonight the old home smoldered before him, a heap +of blackening embers, wearing no vestige of resemblance to its beloved +familiar contours. But little time was given him for meditation now.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Robert!"</p> + +<p>He felt his hands seized in a warm, strong grasp, which did not quickly +loosen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Robert!" repeated Bertha, drawing him into the doorway of the +bake-shop and beginning to cry. "I thought you were burned in the fire. +Where have you been all the time?"</p> + +<p>"Only at Miss Barlow's. How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"It was soon after you left. The library took fire. I heard Sire barking +and ran down to find out what was the matter, when what should I see but +the room full of smoke."</p> + +<p>"Ellen is safe, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Ellen went out. We haven't seen her yet. But if it hadn't been for +Sire——"</p> + +<p>They had gone inside the shop and the great St. Bernard jumped up and +fondled his young master joyfully, but again with that strange +undertone in his barking, as of one who had a tale to tell, if only +stupid men folk could understand it.</p> + +<p>"What ails you, Sire? Poor fellow! Old master gone; house burned down; +getting old yourself. Yes, it's too bad. Good dog."</p> + +<p>Sire whined at the sympathy in Robert Floyd's voice.</p> + +<p>"Nothing was saved?" asked the youth.</p> + +<p>"Not a stitch. But I don't mind if I was only sure Ellen——"</p> + +<p>"Are you really anxious about Ellen? I thought she went out?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. It was her day out. But when she came back to supper she ought +to have looked for me."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she did hunt for you and missed you, or went to her sister's in +the confusion. You haven't found a lodging yet yourself for the night?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'll have to go to my aunt's."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Christenson's. That's the place for you; and take good care of +Sire until I call for him."</p> + +<p>"Go with Bertha, Sire," he commanded, but the dog had to be dragged +away, the tall Swedish maiden laying her hand on his collar.</p> + +<p>"Well, your house, as the little girl said in the story, presents a +remarkable disappearance."</p> + +<p>Robert turned toward the stranger who was so facetious out of season. +Inspector McCausland had just parted company with the fire marshal and +was sauntering carelessly about.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen? Do they know yet?" asked Robert, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I don't," answered McCausland. "Possibly so"—he filliped off the +lighted end of his cigar, but it fell into a black moat alongside of the +curbstone and went out with a gentle hiss.</p> + +<p>"But none of us smoked."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it was of incendiary origin," said the detective. "There have +been some strange fires lately."</p> + +<p>"It is a mystery," answered Robert Floyd.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>SEQUELAE.</h3> + + +<p>"You don't care for 'The Headless Horseman'?" said Robert to little +Elsie Barlow, who was sitting on his knee in Emily's parlor. "Which of +the stories do you like best of all?"</p> + +<p>Elsie shut up her book of fairy tales, trying to think.</p> + +<p>"You ask mamma which she likes best, Bessie or me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Elsie, that's dodging," laughed Robert.</p> + +<p>"No, 'tisn't dodging," protested Elsie. "'Cause mamma don't like either +of us best; and I like 'The House of Clocks' and 'The Ball of Gold' just +the same as each other."</p> + +<p>"'The Ball of Gold'—what a charming title! Tell me that. It can't help +being pretty."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see there was a great, tall giant," began Elsie, hunting +diligently for his picture in the wonder-book, "and this giant had a +ball of gold that rested on a saucer in his castle, just like an egg in +its cup. It was round-shaped like a crystal and weighed, oh, ever so +many tons. See, there he is."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" Robert shuddered realistically. "What a monster!"</p> + +<p>"And oh, so cruel! Every knight that rode by he would challenge him to +battle, and the giant would cut off his head and hang them around his +belt, and the bodies he would throw to three great, savage dogs. That +was all they had to eat."</p> + +<p>"What cannibals!"</p> + +<p>"Here comes Emily," said Mrs. Barlow, who had been rocking in her chair. +The young lady wore a water lily at her bosom and was reading from the +Sunday Beacon.</p> + +<p>"Six lives lost, Robert," she cried, "and the Beacon has started a +subscription for their families."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't finished my story," pouted forgotten little Elsie.</p> + +<p>"Put it away, dear," said her mother, riding roughshod over the child's +wishes, as the best of mothers do. Perhaps these crosses are +educational.</p> + +<p>The following list printed in heavy capitals was the first paragraph +Emily read:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">KILLED.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">MARY LACY, salesgirl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">FLORENCE F. LACY, bookkeeper.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ALEXANDER WHITLOVE, elevator boy (colored).<br /></span> +<span class="i0">OSCAR SCHUBERT, ladder man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An unknown girl.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"At midnight," she continued, reading aloud, "Rosanna Moxom, a +lace-worker, was reported dying, and the injuries of nearly a dozen +others are serious enough to excite alarm."</p> + +<p>"Did you say the Beacon has started a relief fund for their families?" +asked Robert.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and headed it with $1,000."</p> + +<p>Robert inwardly resolved to make the total $1,025.</p> + +<p>"Most of those dead or likely to die," continued Emily, while Robert +held Elsie and Mrs. Barlow rocked in her easy-chair, "belonged to the +hapless group that had been penned in the top story of the Harmon +building. They were employes of the firm of Carter & Hallowell, lace +dealers. Shut off by a solid wall from the Cazenove street side of the +building, they had not heard the shouts of fire until too late. A broad +sheet of flame barred their exit to the stairs, which were midway along +the corridor. Over fifteen of the girls, however, had come down safely +in the elevator, and Alexander, the colored elevator boy, had promised +to make a return trip for the others. He was true to his word and was +seen remounting as high as the fifth story. But here the heated iron +cables refused to work, and the poor fellow, stuck fast between two +floors, unable to escape from his wooden box, must have suffered a +martyr's death."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy!" murmured Mrs. Barlow. Perhaps she was thinking of her own +17-year-old son, whose death within a twelvemonth had deprived her home +of its only masculine presence.</p> + +<p>"Heroism!" cried Robert. "It is all around us in homespun, and yet we +run back to search for it under togas or coats of mail."</p> + +<p>"Oscar Schubert's death was equally mysterious," continued Emily, +turning the Beacon inside out. "He was a hook-and-ladder man, attached +to company 3, a German, and in every way a valuable servant. The poor +fellow left a wife and two flaxen-haired children, whose lamentations at +the hospital when the body proved to be that of their father brought +tears to the eyes even of the stoical attendants, accustomed as they are +to the surroundings of death."</p> + +<p>Here Emily was interrupted by a glee of laughter from a romping group +downstairs. It was the children coming home from Sunday school. A tiptoe +peep at the visitor magically hushed their merriment, but Robert +persuaded the youngest to intrust herself to his unoccupied knee, where +he held her as a counterpoise to Elsie, inwardly resolving to increase +his subscription to $50 for the sake of Oscar Schubert's two little +ones.</p> + +<p>"But the tenderest sympathy," read Emily, "is reserved for the Lacy +girls, sole supports of a large family, the cares of which, however, did +not seem to weigh upon their amiable dispositions. They had embraced +each other on the ledge before jumping, and leaped together, arm in arm, +missing the extended net by taking too strong a horizontal impulse, +which threw them almost to the curbstone. In the case of Mary, the elder +sister, death was instantaneous, but the features were not marred in the +least. The face of Florence, the younger, had been crushed in beyond +recognition, yet she lingered on and it was nearly two hours before her +heart finally ceased to beat. A feeble mother, an irresponsible brother +and several small sisters are left to mourn these truly estimable young +women."</p> + +<p>During this paragraph Robert's promissory subscription had silently +risen to $100. If it continued mounting he would soon have little ready +cash to meet his current expenses with. Little Elsie and Bessie, the +midget of all, listened wonderingly on his knee; and it is not +surprising if during the paragraph that followed, all about money losses +and insurance policies and proprietors' histories, his thoughts, +startled by a casual mention of Prof. Arnold's name in the reading, +roamed away to his own teens, when he used to sit on his Uncle +Benjamin's knee, as the little girls were sitting on his.</p> + +<p>He called up a picture of the Yorkshire youth who had been brought over +to the new world, with a younger brother and sister, by parents richer +in virtue than in coin of the world. Both the sons had won wealth and +Benjamin fame. Beginning as a gardener, he soon wrung recognition for +his botanical learning from a world which he affronted from beginning to +end by an independence passing far over the line into the region of +eccentricity. He belonged to the rare class of self-made scholars, and a +popular herb-balsam of his compounding had laid the corner-stone of a +fortune which sixty years of prudent addition had reared even higher +than that of his brother Henry, the banker. An Englishman by birth, he +had refused to change his allegiance. "Salute the flag you're born +under," was the motto he preached; and, consistently inconsistent in +this regard, he applauded the equally strong American loyalty of his +sister's son, Robert Floyd.</p> + +<p>How upright, how unimpeachable, he had been, thought Robert, in his +old-school fixity of principle! Overbearing to those he distrusted, +irritable among shams, he was charity itself to real merit and to the +poor. His pet aversions made a long and amusing list—lawyers, electric +lights, theaters, agnostics, cats; but each was only the reverse side of +a medal whose obverse was passionate love. If, for instance, he was +known to have stoned stray kittens from his garden, he made up for his +cruelty by treating dogs almost as human beings.</p> + +<p>"You and I have the canine temperament," he would say to Robert, a touch +of self-sufficiency mingling with his character, as is not unusual in +really benevolent men. "You and I have the canine temperament. Thank the +heaven that blessed us, and beware of cats. Two-foot and four-foot, it's +all the same. Feline! Catty!" The last word was pronounced with all the +explosive scorn which features as incapable of sneering as a hound's +could manage to express. Robert saw the great smooth face rise before +him now, tinged by time and weather to a pure cherry-wood red, and +crowned with luxuriant silver hair fringing out from under the +skull-cap. Sometimes, indeed, in the drawn corners of the mouth and the +limpid brown eyes, he had read a true affinity to the noble St. Bernard +who used to lie stretched upon the mat between them.</p> + +<p>"Three o'clock, latest. Here's something special." Emily's rise of tone +recalled the young man out of his dream. Elsie was once more deep in her +wonder-book and Bessie had slipped down from his knee and run to the +window.</p> + +<p>"At 2:49 Rosanna Moxom passed away at the hospital, making the sixth +victim of the fire. An employe of John Kalinovitch, the furrier, who +occupied rooms on the same floor with Carter & Hallowell, has identified +the unknown girl as Katie Galuby, a young Polish maiden——"</p> + +<p>"Katie Galuby?" cried Mrs. Barlow. "Can that be the girl we know?"</p> + +<p>"What about Katie Galuby, mamma?" asked Elsie, looking up.</p> + +<p>"She's dead," said mamma, and Elsie's lip quivered at the awful word.</p> + +<p>"A young Polish maiden, who stitched pelts in their musky establishment. +She had probably run the wrong way," Emily read, "as children will—for +Katie was no more than a child, though a workwoman these two years—and +so, finding herself with the Carter & Hallowell group, had followed them +in their random flight and shared their unhappy fate. This was the girl +Patrolman Chandler caught in his arms, who laughed and then fainted +away. The smile was still on her lips in death, and her face looked +sweet in its expression of happy innocence, though old, prematurely old +and wan."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the poor girl is more blessed out of this world," said Mrs. +Barlow, whose eyes showed that she herself had not had a fair-weather +voyage through life. The Galubys lived in the next block, where there +was a colony of poor Poles, and she had often spoken to Katie.</p> + +<p>"Listen," cried Emily, reading another paragraph: "Up to 2:30 o'clock no +news has been received of Ellen Greeley, the cook in Prof. Arnold's +house. Inquiries made at her sister's failed to throw any light on the +question of her whereabouts. Dark rumors afloat, however, at a late +hour, emanating from an authoritative source and rapidly taking shape, +seemed to put her disappearance in close connection with other +mysterious facts, to the detriment of a well-known young man's +reputation."</p> + +<p>"I wonder who that can be?" asked Mrs. Barlow, but before any one could +answer a loud murmur in the street interrupted the quiet party.</p> + +<p>"Look, mamma, see all the people coming!" cried Bessie, pulling Mrs. +Barlow nearer to the window. Oaths and imprecations in some unknown +tongue thrilled the little group of listeners.</p> + +<p>"It's a riot among the Poles," said Mrs. Barlow. Emily and Robert at +once joined the group in the bay window.</p> + +<p>"There he is!" shouted some one in the crowd, pointing, and immediately +the covered heads became a sea of upturned faces—for the parlor was one +flight up—foreign faces, inflamed with passion. A hatless father, +brandishing a hatchet, led them on. But whither?</p> + +<p>"They are breaking in our door!" shrieked Mrs. Barlow. "And Mr. Galuby +at their head."</p> + +<p>Almost instantly a volley of stones crashed against the side of the +house and the windows were riddled. Emily and her mother drew back, with +the whimpering little ones, but Robert stood his ground, watching old +Galuby hacking at the door like a madman.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" he called down, raising the sash.</p> + +<p>There was a furious ring at the bell, followed by a snap, as if the +cord were pulled out. A small pebble sailed through the open window and +struck Robert in the cheek. At sight of the blood, though it was no more +than a strawberry splash, Emily seized his arm.</p> + +<p>"I must go down and stop this, Emily."</p> + +<p>"No, Robert; they are savages when they get excited."</p> + +<p>"What do they want?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows! We have never quarreled with them!"</p> + +<p>By this time the mob was augmented by swarms of gamins and roughs of the +neighborhood, but a change of tone in the uproar indicated that there +was some opposition to their mischief-making.</p> + +<p>"It is the police who have come," said Mrs. Barlow, but Emily clung to +Robert, so that he could neither approach the window nor go downstairs +to the door without violence to the fragile girl he loved. For many +minutes she held him there, till the murmurs below were mingled with +shrieks of pain, and their dispersion and diminution told of the +scattering of the crowd. Mrs. Barlow cautiously peeped out.</p> + +<p>"They are arresting Mr. Galuby. He is covered with blood," she cried. +Just then came a loud knocking at the front door. Robert tore himself +free and ran down to open it. A police sergeant stepped inside.</p> + +<p>"What is it all about?" asked Floyd.</p> + +<p>"We'll give you safe escort to the cars. Hurry up!"</p> + +<p>"Why should I be escorted?"</p> + +<p>"Galuby's girl was killed in the fire and the Poles learned you were +here."</p> + +<p>"What of that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's all over town that you set it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE INDEX FINGER POINTS.</h3> + + +<p>John Davidson, the marshal, was officially supposed to be endowed with +insight into the origin of fires. In fact, he drew a comfortable salary +for pursuing no other occupation than this. A swift horse and a buggy +enabled him to be among the first to arrive and a uniform of dark blue +cloth, such as old sailors cling to, but with brass buttons for insignia +in place of the little woven anchor that serves to remind the old salt +of his element, entitled him to salutes from fire captains as well as +from the rank and file. His written reports were read by insurance +underwriters, and his wise shake of the head went a great way with those +who knew little about fires and less about John Davidson.</p> + +<p>For "old John Davidson," as he was generally known, had one failing +which sadly impaired his official usefulness. He was an innate and +inveterate optimist. The mild-blue eyes which beamed from behind his +spectacles—old eyes, too, that no longer saw things as vividly as they +used to—were meant to train fatherly glances on winsome children or +dart gleams of approval at heroic hosemen whose sacrifices were rewarded +by medal or purse. Indeed, he was very popular in both these functions, +for old John Davidson had himself served his country and was comrade +John of Sherman post, No. 5. But these kindly orbs were not those of the +hawk, the lynx or the ferret, like Inspector McCausland's, of whose +small gray pair, eyelets rather than eyes, rumor said that the off one +contained a microscopic lens and its nigh fellow never went to sleep.</p> + +<p>"John Davidson will never set the world on fire himself," Inspector +McCausland had said when the veteran's nomination was first reported. +Yet "old John" went his way cheerfully poohpoohing suspicion and really +diffusing a globe of good feeling by his presence such as no fox in the +police ranks could pretend to radiate.</p> + +<p>However, the wisdom of the serpent is called for at times, as well as +the meekness of the dove. When Marshal Davidson, against all proof and +persuasion, gave out his intention to report the Arnold fire as +accidental, originating in some unknown manner, or by spontaneous +combustion, owing to the extreme heat of the day (the thermometer having +registered 97), it was felt by his best friends that he allowed his +optimism to blind him too far. He had made the same report in the Low +street fire, the authors of which, an organized gang of blackmailers, +trapped on another charge by McCausland, had just confessed their crime. +Such laxity could only embolden the firebugs and encourage an epidemic +of burnings. Something must be done, the police department thought, and +when they selected Inspector McCausland to work up the case there was a +general faith that something would be done.</p> + +<p>By Sunday noon the inspector had gathered an array of data, sufficient +to give a start to his active faculty of divination. Critics said that +his one failing was a slight impatience in feeling his way to a +conclusion, or, as his brother detectives expressed it, a tendency to +"get away before the pistol shot."</p> + +<p>"Going to hang some one, Dick?" asked Smith, whose specialty was +counterfeiters.</p> + +<p>"Well, we are sowing the hemp," answered McCausland, always ready with a +jovial answer.</p> + +<p>The first person upon whom suspicion rested was the Swedish housemaid, +Bertha Lund. But it did not linger long, or with more than a moth-like +pressure, on that robust and straightforward individual. Her story, +thrice repeated in response to questions by the marshal, Chief Federhen, +Inspector McCausland and the district attorney, had not varied a hair, +although each time new details were added, as the questions of the +different examiners opened new aspects of the affair.</p> + +<p>"Prime proof of her honesty," said McCausland. "The rote story shrinks +and varies, but never expands."</p> + +<p>So the only fruit yielded by the ordeal which Bertha underwent was a +thorough description of the house and household, pieced together from +her replies, and McCausland had soon left her far behind in his search +for a tenable theory.</p> + +<p>The cook, Ellen Greeley, had not yet made her appearance. Bertha +professed to have seen her dressing herself in her chamber and gave a +clear description of her clothing, for the benefit of McCausland's +note-book—green plaid skirt, brown waist, straw hat with red, purple +and yellow pompons. Ellen was dressing "uncommonly rich" of late, they +said. Bertha had talked with her upstairs and had heard the back door +slam about the time when Ellen might be supposed to be departing. It had +been the cook's holiday afternoon, and she was going to run over to her +sister's, as she generally did, and return for supper, leaving Bertha to +keep house.</p> + +<p>But her sister had not seen her and she had not returned. A slow, heavy +girl, rather apt to take the color of her mood from those around her, +she seemed a creature who might be influenced to wrongdoing, but hardly +the one to instigate it. So far as could be learned, the plain truth was +romantic enough for Ellen Greeley, and she was not accustomed to +embellish it with flowers of her own imagination. Nevertheless, after +exhausting this subject, McCausland checked her name with the mental +note "an accomplice, if anything," and the woman's prolonged absence, +together with those "uncommonly rich" dresses she wore of late, the more +he dwelt on them, prompted him the more to erase the modifying clause +and let his mental comment stand "an accomplice."</p> + +<p>But of whom? Ellen's sister and Bertha had both mentioned one Dennis +Mungovan, the cook's sweetheart, who, until three weeks ago, had been +coachman at the Arnold's. Some repartee, or insolence, when reprimanded +for smoking (he was described as a tonguey lout) had provoked his +discharge and he had been heard to threaten vengeance behind the +professor's back, though at the time his words were muttered they were +ignored as a braggart's empty vaporing. Twice he had called to see Ellen +at the house, but he had not shown his face since the week before the +professor died; and even at his favorite haunt, a certain Charles street +stable, all trace of him had been lost. As he was a resident of this +country for less than a year he may have crossed the water again to his +home, but if this were so Bertha felt sure Ellen would have manifested +her lonesomeness. "She had a great heart to the man," said the Swedish +housemaid.</p> + +<p>"Well, what have you collected against him?" said the district attorney, +to whom McCausland had just been exhibiting these results of his +investigation. They were alone, save for a bloodhound, in the +inspector's office at police headquarters.</p> + +<p>"Opportunity, motive and circumstances. I don't rule out the other two +as accessories, you understand." The "other two" were Mungovan and Ellen +Greeley, who with Robert had been arranged in a triangle by the +detective.</p> + +<p>"That remains to be fitted into the developments, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"First, as to circumstances. The young man turns up about 11 o'clock at +a fire which started at 3:30, which destroyed his own home, and which +was advertised all over the country within a radius of thirty miles +before sunset."</p> + +<p>"In itself not a very damaging circumstance. It might be explained. You +have questioned him on his movements?"</p> + +<p>"In two interviews," replied the inspector, puffing his cigar leisurely +and watching the smoke curl as though it were the most fascinating study +in the world just then.</p> + +<p>"Account not satisfactory?"</p> + +<p>"He has none to give." (Puff.)</p> + +<p>"What does he mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Memory a blank between 3:30 and 7:30." (Puff.)</p> + +<p>"Up to some mischief, then."</p> + +<p>"A curiously opportune lapse," said the inspector, his eye twinkling +humorously. "So much for circumstances after the fact. And now for +opportunity."</p> + +<p>"Of course the evidence for opportunity will depend upon the inmates of +the house. You are convinced of Bertha's candor?"</p> + +<p>"On my reputation as an adept in mendacity. You have not found me +overcredulous, as a rule?"</p> + +<p>"Quite the contrary."</p> + +<p>"Bertha was upstairs, Floyd in the study, Ellen, the cook, had just gone +out. After awhile the barking of the St. Bernard in the study aroused +the girl. Something was wrong. She ran down, opened the study door and +fell back before a live crater of smoke and flame. Accident, we agree, +is out of the question. The front door was locked. There was no approach +to the study (up one flight, remember) from the street, unless you +raised a ladder to the window, and half the neighborhood would have seen +this. At least I'm sure the bake-shop girl, Senda Wesner, would have +seen it. The previous actions of Floyd were those of a criminal +meditating crime; his subsequent course until 7:30 he refuses to +explain."</p> + +<p>"But the motive, McCausland?" said the district attorney gravely. +McCausland contracted his beady eyelets till they shone like two pin +punctures in a lighted jack-o'-lantern. But a knock at the door delayed +his answer. The bloodhound promptly arose, grasped the knob in his +forepaws, and turning it skillfully, admitted a mulatto attendant in +fatigue uniform, the bloodhound's master patting him approvingly for the +performance.</p> + +<p>"Officer Costa to see the inspector," said the attendant.</p> + +<p>"Send him in," answered McCausland. "One of my fetch-and-carry +dogs—willing enough, but no hawk."</p> + +<p>"I've looked the matter up," said Officer Costa, saluting, and glancing +from McCausland to the district attorney.</p> + +<p>"With what result?"</p> + +<p>"Dennis Mungovan and Ellen Greeley were privately married on June 18, +before Justice of the Peace Gustavus Schwab, at 126 Harlow street," said +Costa, as if proud of his morsel of information and its precision of +detail.</p> + +<p>"Is this our Mungovan?" asked the district attorney, evincing keen +interest.</p> + +<p>"What was his description, Costa?" said McCausland.</p> + +<p>"Native of Ireland, aged 29; a coachman by occupation. The bride a cook, +born in New Brunswick."</p> + +<p>"Very well done. Will you look over the steerage list of the European +steamers for a fortnight back and ahead? We want that couple, if +possible."</p> + +<p>"I will," answered Costa, in a manner which showed that the compliment +was not wasted. Once more McCausland rose and looked out before shutting +the door. Evidently this was another of his mannerisms, and perhaps not +the least useful, since one never knows what interlopers may be harking +about.</p> + +<p>"We have connected numbers two and three of the triangle," he resumed as +soon as he was fairly seated, "the interests of Mr. and Mrs. Mungovan +being presumably identical."</p> + +<p>"I cannot; seriously I cannot credit the charge against Floyd," said the +district attorney, "in face of the tender relations known to have +subsisted between the young man and his uncle."</p> + +<p>"Tender"—McCausland's fat face creased all over into dimples of +merriment. "Do young men elope with their grandmothers?"</p> + +<p>"Not often," answered the district attorney.</p> + +<p>"Neither do they dote madly on their crotchety uncles in the slippers +and dressing-gowns of 78."</p> + +<p>"Even at 78 I should expect consideration from a nephew whom I had taken +in as an orphan and raised to wealth and position."</p> + +<p>"Wealth and position! Perhaps that's the rub."</p> + +<p>"Just what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that all was not smooth in the Arnold household; that nephew and +uncle were cut too near together from the same block of granite to +match; that they wrangled constantly and that one of their wrangles led +to this very crisis of the will."</p> + +<p>"A will?" echoed the district attorney.</p> + +<p>"A will" (puff), smiled McCausland, relapsing into silence.</p> + +<p>"Prof. Arnold left a will?" repeated the district attorney, slowly, but +McCausland only nodded mysteriously and puffed.</p> + +<p>"And—and disinherited the nephew?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly—cut him down to $20,000."</p> + +<p>"Where is this will?"</p> + +<p>"This will was burned. It was the cause of the burning." McCausland had +lowered his voice, if anything, but the district attorney stood up in +horror.</p> + +<p>"More wealth changed hands by the destruction of that document," +continued the inspector, "than was converted into smoke and ashes by the +fire."</p> + +<p>"You mean that young Floyd planned to burn up the will which left him a +pauper, so that he might obtain his interest as heir-at-law?"</p> + +<p>"That's the motive you were asking for when Costa interrupted us. It was +clumsily done, wasn't it? But not so clumsily, when you look at it +further. The professor kept his valuables in an iron lock-box which he +called a safe. To blow it open was dangerous, unless"—McCausland paused +to drive his meaning home—"unless the sound of the explosion could be +smothered in the general confusion of a fire."</p> + +<p>"You attribute the explosions to——"</p> + +<p>"Placed the charge himself in a wooden box under the safe. Told Bertha a +plausible story to provide against discovery."</p> + +<p>"Six human lives to pay for a few paltry dollars."</p> + +<p>"Five million dollars! The professor must have left nearly ten and Floyd +would have shared them equally with the other nephew. Hardly a paltry +figure, $5,000,000! I've seen murder committed for a 10-cent piece."</p> + +<p>"But that was manslaughter in the heat of a quarrel."</p> + +<p>"To be sure; and by expert Sicilian carvers, with magnifying-glass eyes +and tempers formed between Etna and Vesuvius. But $5,000,000 is a +fortune, Bigelow."</p> + +<p>The district attorney paced up and down, meditating. At last he turned +and brought his fist down on the table so hard that the bloodhound +bayed.</p> + +<p>"This is murder as well as arson. I want that understood."</p> + +<p>"I understood it," smiled the inspector.</p> + +<p>"Who saw this will?"</p> + +<p>"There's no secret there. Its contents are common property, I should +say. It was Mrs. Arnold, the sister-in-law, who dropped me the first +hint; and Floyd himself has owned that his uncle made a will three weeks +ago, cutting him down to $20,000."</p> + +<p>"How did the professor come to postpone his will-making so long?"</p> + +<p>"Satisfied, I suppose, with the laws of intestate descent."</p> + +<p>"The other heir gets it all?"</p> + +<p>"Harry Arnold? No. I believe some goes to charity, the servants and so +on. A $10,000,000 cake will cut up into several neat slices, you know." +But the thoughts of the district attorney seemed to move habitually on a +higher plane.</p> + +<p>"Floyd was a sister's son. Perhaps that is why the professor preferred +him to his cousin," he said.</p> + +<p>"A life-long preference which does not appear in his testament, +however."</p> + +<p>"But why did he cast him off at the eleventh hour?"</p> + +<p>"The boy didn't know enough to groom and currycomb the old gentleman +properly. Only 21, you know, and self-willed. That's in the Arnold +blood. Besides, he's a socialist or anarchist, I'm told, and keeps +company with a photographic retoucher as poor as Job. Something of the +sort. Who knows? A straw will turn a man's mind at fourscore."</p> + +<p>"And how about Mungovan and the Greeley woman?"</p> + +<p>"Accomplices," said McCausland, but added more cautiously, "from present +appearances, at least."</p> + +<p>There was a knock on the door and the bloodhound again performed the +duties of sentinel, receiving his master's praise with such marks of +dignified gratification as became his enormous size.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wesner," announced the mulatto.</p> + +<p>"Presently," answered the inspector. "Well, action or inaction?" he +said, presenting an alternative of two fingers to the district attorney.</p> + +<p>"I must go over this evidence in detail. Will you send the Swedish girl +to my office again to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"I think I can lay my hands on her."</p> + +<p>At that very moment, in another part of the city Robert Floyd was +walking down to the electric car between a squad of policemen, followed +by a motley crowd that profaned the Sabbath with its clamor. Once aboard +the swift vehicle, he was safe from pursuit, but his liberty was +short-lived. For, as a result of Noah Bigelow's second interview with +Bertha and his review of McCausland's reasoning, a warrant was made out +and he was arrested Monday noon on the charge of arson and homicide.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>HE IS TRIED IN THE BALANCE.</h3> + + +<p>There was a pause in the little court-room when the formal proclamations +of the crier and clerk were ended.</p> + +<p>"Are you guilty or not guilty, Robert Floyd?"</p> + +<p>He bore the scrutiny of many hundred eyes calmly. Earnestness must have +been the usual expression of his face, but today its flashing eyes and +curled upper lip controlled the aquiline features and made their +dominant aspect one of defiance.</p> + +<p>He was olive-skinned, as his uncle may have been in his youth. His hair +was dark. Spots of dark red were burning in his cheek, and his voice, +when he spoke, of a rich contralto quality, had some subtle affiliation +with darkness, too. Altogether a Roman soul, the unprejudiced observer +would have said, but somewhat lacking in the blitheness which is proper +to youth.</p> + +<p>"Not guilty," the answer was recorded.</p> + +<p>The spectators listened in a strained and oppressive silence. Within the +bar sat old John Davidson, looking very sympathetic and not a little +perplexed as he reared his chair back against the railing. Through the +open door of an ante-room peeped the chubby form of Inspector +McCausland, cordially shaking hands with acquaintances and answering to +the sobriquet of "Dick." For professional reasons the inspector avoided +making his person known to the multitude, but once or twice he sent in +messages to the district attorney, and finally stepping to the door, +caught his eye and beckoned him outside. Noah Bigelow had been sitting +silently at the prosecutor's desk, his prodigious black beard sweeping +his breast and his tufted eyebrows leveled steadily at the prisoner, as +if to read his soul. When he rose at McCausland's signal the entire +court-room followed his broad back receding through the door of the +chamber.</p> + +<p>"The prisoner," said the judge, "declines the advice of counsel and +offers himself for examination unaided. He is hereby warned of his right +under the law to challenge any question which may incriminate or tend to +incriminate him. The court will see that this right is protected. We are +ready for the evidence."</p> + +<p>"Miss Bertha Lund," called Badger. She arose, the same tidy, buxom +maiden as ever, but pale and with traces of tears. An oath was +administered and the young woman motioned to the witness-box.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been a servant in the Arnold house, Miss Lund?" asked +Badger, who was conducting the case for the government.</p> + +<p>"Going on six years."</p> + +<p>"And you have known the prisoner all this time?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"You were in at the time of the fire, on Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"I was."</p> + +<p>"And gave the alarm, did you not?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>Bertha's rising inflection had hardly varied in the last three answers, +and her blue eyes were riveted on the lawyer's.</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell the court how you were occupied prior to your discovery +of the fire?"</p> + +<p>Thus directed, Bertha half-inclined her person toward the judge.</p> + +<p>"Part of the time I was dusting the study and part of the time I was +upstairs."</p> + +<p>"What were you doing upstairs?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, except looking out of the window into the street."</p> + +<p>"What window?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Robert's."</p> + +<p>"And what street?"</p> + +<p>"Cazenove street."</p> + +<p>"Was any one else in the house at that time?"</p> + +<p>"Not after Ellen went out."</p> + +<p>"You are sure Ellen had gone out?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you mean by sure?"</p> + +<p>"What made you think she had gone out?"</p> + +<p>"She told me she was going out. She was dressed in her street dress and +I heard the door slam. That's three reasons."</p> + +<p>"You heard the door slam? The front door, I suppose? There is only one +door?"</p> + +<p>"No, there's the back door, leading into the passageway."</p> + +<p>"And where does the passageway lead?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it runs alongside the house from Cazenove street to Broad."</p> + +<p>The district attorney diverted attention for a moment by making his way +to his seat through the crowd. He was the opposite of Badger in +everything; the one burly and slack, but with the stamp of moral energy +in his bearing; the other immaculate from cravat to cuff borders and +athletic if slight in build.</p> + +<p>"Was it the back door or the front door you heard slam, Miss Lund?" +resumed Badger, continuing to confer in an undertone with the district +attorney.</p> + +<p>"It was the back door, sir, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty sure."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it probably the front door?"</p> + +<p>"No, it was the back door, I'm positive."</p> + +<p>"Then Ellen went out of the back door and left you and Floyd alone in +the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, Mr. Robert and I were the only ones in."</p> + +<p>"Just when was this slamming of the door, at what time? With reference, +I mean, to your own movements and the movements of others in the house?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was up stairs and down, in and out, and Mr. Robert was in the +study. I couldn't tell you just when."</p> + +<p>"Very well——"</p> + +<p>"And, if it's not improper, I wish to say that I am not here of my own +choosing, for as sure as my name is Bertha Lund, Robert Floyd never set +that fire."</p> + +<p>This sally was received in silence by the spectators. They looked +expectantly toward the judge and the attorneys. Floyd's look was as +spirited and firm as ever, as he scanned the faces packed around him, +nodding to a lady in the front bench, but letting his eyes dwell +oftenest, with a kind of interrogative look, followed by an expression +of soft satisfaction, on a younger face. It was golden-haired Emily +Barlow, transfixed with interest in the proceedings. Not even the dark +visage of the negro in the corner stood out so cameo-like from the +multitude as hers, partly by its sweetness of beauty, but more by the +parted lips and eager gaze.</p> + +<p>"The witness is not to volunteer opinions, but simply to give the facts +she is requested to give, clearly and truthfully, as her oath requires." +This reproof was not harshly spoken by the judge. "You may continue, Mr. +Badger."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Floyd was in the study, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, he was."</p> + +<p>"Where the fire started?"</p> + +<p>"It started in the study."</p> + +<p>"Will you describe to the court, without any omissions, everything you +did and everything you saw Mr. Floyd do from the time he opened the +study door until you descended the stairway and discovered the room +afire?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, when Mr. Robert unlocked the door——"</p> + +<p>"Which door?"</p> + +<p>"The study."</p> + +<p>"It had been locked, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; Mr. Robert had locked it after the professor died."</p> + +<p>"Which was on Tuesday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Go on with your story."</p> + +<p>"After Mr. Robert opened the study door he was acting lonesome. I went +in and said, 'Shall I dust the room, Mr. Robert? It needs it.' 'Yes, do, +Bertha,' said he. 'I'm expecting a lawyer. Is Ellen in?' 'She was going +out,' I answered, 'but I think I heard her run upstairs to her room.' +Well, I went for the duster, and when I came back Mr. Robert was +standing over the hearth. 'Is that you, Ellen?' he said, dazed-like and +absent-minded. But when he saw it was me he only laughed."</p> + +<p>"What was Mr. Floyd doing when you startled him?" interposed the deep +bass of the district attorney, cutting short the progress of the girl's +high treble.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, he was stooping over."</p> + +<p>"Over the hearth, you said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anything in his hands at the time?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he was picking up little bits of paper, as though he had just torn +a letter to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Go on," said Badger, making a note of this fact.</p> + +<p>"While I was dusting the furniture Mr. Robert went out into the +professor's chamber and brought in the canary. The poor thing hadn't +sung since the professor died. It was he who used to feed it and talk to +it. But when Mr. Robert brought it into its old room and I pulled up the +curtains to let in the sunshine it set up such a trilling and chirping I +could hardly help crying."</p> + +<p>"On which floor is this study?"</p> + +<p>"The front room, one flight up."</p> + +<p>"How high above the street? You couldn't reach it from the sidewalk?"</p> + +<p>"Not without a ladder."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't keep a ladder resting against the front of your house, +usually?"</p> + +<p>"No more usually than other folks do."</p> + +<p>"There was no tree," asked the district attorney, "whose branches hung +near the window?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; there was none," answered Bertha, respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Now, the rest of your story, Miss Lund," said Badger; "the canary bird +had been brought in. Did it perch on Floyd's finger?"</p> + +<p>"Canary birds will use their wings like other folks if they are let. +No, it was brought in in the cage and the cage hung on the hook, just as +it used to be."</p> + +<p>"Why had it been removed?"</p> + +<p>"So as to feed it," answered Bertha, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Was there any other living thing in the room at this time?"</p> + +<p>"Is a dog a living thing?" Being human, Bertha resented catechising. The +temptation to answer one question by another is strong, even when one +isn't a New-Englander by birth.</p> + +<p>"Previous to its death, it may be considered alive," answered Badger, +dryly.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sire was there."</p> + +<p>"A dog, I presume, from your last response. Continue from the point when +the cage was brought in."</p> + +<p>"I went upstairs, as I told you before, when I had finished my dusting. +Then I sat down in Mr. Robert's room."</p> + +<p>"Was that all you did?—to sit down?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Bertha's replies had gradually come down to monosyllabic length and it +looked as if the next step might be silence. But the district attorney +interposed with a nod and a smile, which worked like magic in loosening +her tongue.</p> + +<p>"Well," she continued, "I was sitting at Mr. Robert's window when I +noticed Sire's barking. I thought it was odd if he was playing with Mr. +Robert, they both took on so at the professor's death. But it kept up +and kept up, so I slipped down to see and the first thing I smelled was +smoke. It was leaking out through the study keyhole and I could hear +Sire barking and pawing at the knob inside. Of course I opened the door +and rushed in to save the canary, but the fire stung me so I thought I +was suffocated. Sire began running around and I called for Mr. Robert, +thinking he was in the room, for the smoke was hiding everything. Oh, I +tell you my heart stopped when my voice came back to me all hollow in +that empty house. It was then I ran down to the street."</p> + +<p>"One moment, Miss Lund. Did you or did you not observe anything new or +unusual in the room when you were engaged in dusting the chairs?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I don't remember anything unusual."</p> + +<p>"How long were you upstairs?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say. I'm not good at guessing time. There are some folks, +like Senda Wesner, seem to have a clock going in their heads, but I'm +not one of them. Perhaps it was ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"Miss Lund," the district attorney stroked his great beard, as he was +apt to do in driving home a crucial question. "Can you now fix more +precisely the moment of the door slam, which you say convinced you of +Ellen's departure?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; the door slam," Bertha touched her forehead, trying to +remember, "the door slam is all mixed up with the barking and fire, so I +can't untangle it at all."</p> + +<p>"It seems to be a part of this chain of events you have just narrated so +clearly for us? You think, you thought at the time, it was Ellen leaving +the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. It was the back door. Who else could it be? Besides, Mr. +Robert was quiet. He never slammed the door."</p> + +<p>"I simply wanted the girl's best evidence to the fact that they were +alone in the house at this time," said the district attorney.</p> + +<p>"But the girl, Ellen, seems to have been about until the fire was set," +answered the judge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>AND IS FOUND WANTING.</h3> + + +<p>After the noon recess Bertha was called to finish her testimony, with +the promise that she would not be detained long.</p> + +<p>"A description of the study, Miss Lund, when you were dusting."</p> + +<p>"Everything was left just as it was when the professor fell dead on the +threshold Tuesday evening."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice any foreign substance—any accumulation of what might +afford fuel for a fire?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Any odor?"</p> + +<p>"Only that the room was close from being shut up."</p> + +<p>"Describe the contents of the room."</p> + +<p>"Well, it was full of books, on shelves that ran all around."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Two windows; a cage before one, the nearest to the door, and a writing +desk before the one in the farthest corner."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"A safe partly built in the wall beside the door."</p> + +<p>"How high from the ground?"</p> + +<p>"About up to my waist."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice anything underneath it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there was the gunpowder box Mr. Robert put there."</p> + +<p>"A box full of gunpowder placed there by Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>This statement made a profound impression, but Badger did not push the +subject further. The prisoner almost smiled.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Badger said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, everything else was just as the professor left it. His slippers +under his chair, his dressing-gown over the back of it, his spectacles +on the desk, his bible laid down open. He was going to meet a caller, +you know, when he was taken with the stitch."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Perhaps we have had enough of the professor," said Badger. +But the accused did not find these minutiae trivial. For the first time +his proud face broke and he hid the tears with his hand. The mention of +the bible, slippers and the other personal mementos had called up the +dearest picture he ever knew.</p> + +<p>All the grand life, equally compounded of whims and principles, passed +before him at Bertha's mention of the empty chair.</p> + +<p>But the sympathy of the spectators was short-lived. While Robert wept a +strain of sad music stole into the court-room. Faint at first, it rose +in volume as the players approached, but still with a muted sound, as if +their instruments were muffled. The drum-beats were rare and +unobtrusive, and the burden of the melody, if melody it were, was borne +by proud bugles and quivering oboes. Its cadences were old and +mysterious, like some Gregorian chant intoned in cloisters before organ +and orchestra had trained our ears to the chords of harmony. No wonder +the court-room was hushed until it died away in the distance.</p> + +<p>It was the Masonic dead march, for on this day the funerals of the dead +whom Robert Floyd was accused of murdering were being held. Oscar +Schubert, as a member of the mystic order, was buried with all the pomp +of its ceremonies, and it was his cortege, proceeding to the sepulcher, +whose passage occasioned this pause in the trial.</p> + +<p>The revulsion of sympathy was instant. Every man in the court-room saw +the wife and two children, sitting behind drawn curtains in the carriage +of the chief mourners, and beyond this picture the bodies of six +victims, four of them young girls, done to death at the prompting of +avarice. The prisoner himself seemed to understand, for he shut his +teeth, though his bold eyes still dared the multitude. But they rested +more and more upon the lovely face which was his one point of +consolation in that unfriendly assemblage. Badger's indifferent voice +showed no quiver when he asked Miss Lund to step down and called for +Robert Floyd. It was a brusque opening.</p> + +<p>"What was contained in the safe in your uncle's study?"</p> + +<p>"I never opened it."</p> + +<p>"You knew, however?"</p> + +<p>"What he had told me."</p> + +<p>"Was his will there?"</p> + +<p>"I have reason to believe so."</p> + +<p>"Did you believe so on Saturday, while you were in the room with Miss +Lund?"</p> + +<p>"I did not give the matter any thought at that time." Floyd spoke as +though the spirit burned hot within him. "And I will add——"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Badger. But the judge looked up.</p> + +<p>"This is a court, not a court-martial," he said, quietly, a pale, +studious man. "The witness has a right to modify his answers."</p> + +<p>"I have only this to say," continued Floyd, "to hasten as much as +possible this preposterous trial, that I indorse every word of Miss +Lund's testimony, and accept it and proffer it as my own upon the points +which it covers."</p> + +<p>"We prefer——" But the district attorney interrupted his assistant. +"Are you aware, Mr. Floyd, of the gravity of the position in which Miss +Lund's testimony involves you? Sole opportunity is almost the major head +among those which the government is required to prove."</p> + +<p>"I accept it in toto, subject to the privilege of volunteering a +statement if my examination is incomplete or misleading."</p> + +<p>"We shall endeavor to make it both adequate and fair," said the district +attorney.</p> + +<p>"Leaving the safe for a moment," resumed the examiner, "will you kindly +relate your movements, Mr. Floyd, subsequent to the time when Bertha +left you to go upstairs?"</p> + +<p>The young man hesitated. The pause was so long as to be embarrassing. +Old John Davidson coughed loudly to relieve his agitation. When the +witness spoke at last he seemed to be remembering with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"I remember leaving the house and walking about among the fields, in the +park, I think. Yes, I took a car for the park. In the evening I called +upon Miss Barlow."</p> + +<p>He looked up at the aureoled face and faintly smiled. The sight appeared +to revive him. "From that point my recollections become as distinct as +usual. But——" He hesitated once more and Badger left him unaided in +his distress. "The truth is, this was my first visit since his death to +my uncle's study. The executor had telegraphed and afterward written me +to close and lock it. This I did. But that afternoon I was expecting a +visit from him——"</p> + +<p>"Who is this executor?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hodgkins Hodgkins."</p> + +<p>"Of the firm of Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so. My aunt, Mrs. Arnold, had called at 3 o'clock to say that +he had arrived from New York and would take possession of the papers +that afternoon. So I unlocked the room and let the servant dust it. The +whole meaning of my loss seemed to come over me then, when I saw the +empty chair. Before that I had been calm enough. But the sight dazed and +staggered me. I went out, fled, taking no note of time or place. I +believe, I know, I was in the park, but until I arrived at Miss +Barlow's, outward occurrences made little memorable impression upon me."</p> + +<p>"I presume you saw or were seen by persons on the way?"</p> + +<p>"I do not remember any one in particular."</p> + +<p>"Are we to understand," said the district attorney, listening intently, +"that you passed this long period in a species of reverie or trance?"</p> + +<p>"An intense fit of abstraction," answered Robert; but the district +attorney looked puzzled, as if an utterly new and virgin problem had +been put before him to solve.</p> + +<p>"Without food until you returned at 11 o'clock to the fire?" asked +Badger.</p> + +<p>"Excepting a light lunch at Miss Barlow's. Her mother noticed some +fatigue in me and pressed me to take refreshment."</p> + +<p>"Was there no mention of the fire there—a fire which was destroying +your home?"</p> + +<p>"We spoke of it casually, but I did not know until later that it was +destroying my home."</p> + +<p>"Was it not described in the evening papers?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the early editions, Badger," put in the district attorney. "Only +in the later specials."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Now let us get back to the safe. Your uncle had made a will, +I believe?"</p> + +<p>"He made a will several weeks ago."</p> + +<p>"What were the terms of that document?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know them in full."</p> + +<p>"As to your share?"</p> + +<p>"My legacy was $20,000."</p> + +<p>"Out of an estate valued at?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard $10,000,000."</p> + +<p>"You are an anarchist, Mr. Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"But a radical of some sort?"</p> + +<p>"I am a socialist; a developer, not a destroyer."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Badger. His exclamation was icy cold. "And you differed from +your uncle on other points, did you not?"</p> + +<p>"We took the liberty of honest men to differ."</p> + +<p>"In religion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He was a high churchman. I am—simply a Christian."</p> + +<p>This avowal of a creed brought titters among the spectators, who +apparently were accustomed to definitions narrower if more precise.</p> + +<p>"And as a result of these quarrels your uncle disinherited you?"</p> + +<p>"Sir?"</p> + +<p>For a moment the prisoner's outburst of indignation checked the current +of opinion which had been flowing swiftly against him.</p> + +<p>"In one sentence you have managed to outrage the dead as well as the +living—and to convey two impressions distinctly false. My uncle and I +never quarreled, never! He was a father and more than a father to me. +Neither did he disinherit me. It was his wish to assign me the whole +property. I begged him to omit me without more than a memento or +keepsake, that I might enter life as he had done, as every man should, +untrammeled—but with the advantage, I feel sure, of an example and an +inspiration given to few to enjoy. The sum left me was far in excess of +my desires."</p> + +<p>There was another long silence after this statement, but it expressed +only incredulity.</p> + +<p>"When was this very extraordinary will drawn up?"</p> + +<p>"Three weeks ago."</p> + +<p>"The witnesses are living, then? It is to be presumed that they, too, +were not carried off by the holocaust which so reduced our population +last Saturday." Badger's sarcasm was brutal, but it told.</p> + +<p>"The witnesses were three neighbors, called in. The servants could not +act, as they were remembered in the document."</p> + +<p>"No lawyer was present?"</p> + +<p>"My uncle seldom employed a lawyer."</p> + +<p>Such a statement, relating to a man of Prof. Arnold's wealth, might have +excited doubt if his eccentricity on this point had not been noised +about beforehand.</p> + +<p>"He drew up the will himself, then? Has any one seen it except you?"</p> + +<p>"Not so far as I know. I myself never saw it."</p> + +<p>"But you knew it was in the safe?"</p> + +<p>"I supposed so."</p> + +<p>"One moment," said the district attorney, interrupting. "Once more, why +did you reopen the study on this particular day?"</p> + +<p>"Because I had been informed that Mr. Hodgkins was coming to remove the +will."</p> + +<p>"By whom were you so informed?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold drove up about 3 o'clock and mentioned the fact. Indeed, +she had expected to find him at the house. He was an old acquaintance of +hers, as well as of my uncle—her legal adviser, in fact."</p> + +<p>A stylish woman, still fair in spite of her 50 years, was sitting in +front of Robert as he testified. She was the widow of Benjamin Arnold's +brother, Henry, and her son, Henry, or Harry, had just offered a reward +of $5,000 for the incendiary—a sum which McCausland might well have +hopes of securing. The inspector was still hovering about the threshold +of his ante-room, and now that Floyd's examination was concluded he +called the district attorney to one side, apparently urging him to +reserve the remainder of his evidence, which would naturally consist of +rebuttal of Floyd and corroboration of Bertha. At any rate, Mr. Badger +arose, and, announcing that the case was closed, offered a summary of +the evidence, rapid, methodical, but unimpressive, like himself. Then +the prisoner was asked if he desired to speak in his own behalf.</p> + +<p>"Your honor," he said, "this monstrous charge of having set on foot a +fire in the most populous section of our noble city overwhelms me so +that I am impotent to express the indignation I feel. I leave it to your +own sense of justice, your own discrimination, whether I am to be +dishonored with the suspicion of an infamous crime, on evidence so +flimsy that the bare denial of a veracious man should be sufficient to +upset it. I read in many faces around me the hunger for blood; the +unthinking call for a victim. Heed that, and my good name is taken from +me. I am irreparably wronged. Resist it, and you will prove yourself +worthy of the honorable title which you bear."</p> + +<p>Not a few were swayed toward the youth by his manifest emotion. But the +judge waited fully a minute before he arose and his eyeglasses were +trembling in his hand.</p> + +<p>"You have elected, against good counsel," he began, "to be your own +advocate. I cannot and do not adjudge you unsuccessful, in the sense of +having demonstrated your guilt rather than your innocence. But that you +have failed to break the government's chain of evidence in its most +damaging links—sole opportunity, motive and suspicious conduct, +especially after the act—is plain to me, and would be plain to any mind +accustomed to weighing such evidence calmly.</p> + +<p>"It is true the evidence is wholly circumstantial. No eye but God's saw +this foul deed done. But since William Rufus was found dead in the New +Forest, with Walter Tyrrell's arrow in his breast, men have been +convicted of murder on circumstantial evidence, and will continue to be +so convicted as long as probability remains the guide of life.</p> + +<p>"I am obliged, therefore, to remand you for trial, not only on the +charge of arson, but upon the graver charge of homicide involved in it +under the peculiar circumstances of the case. This is not a final +verdict. Far be it from me, one erring man, to say that the government +has fastened this crime upon you beyond reasonable doubt. But in the +face of the evidence which has been brought forward I could not order +your release. It becomes my unhappy duty, as the examining magistrate, +to commit you to custody, to await the approaching session of the grand +jury."</p> + +<p>When Emily Barlow awoke from her swoon she found herself in the arms of +old John Davidson. Perhaps it was as well she did not hear the jeer of +execration which greeted the prisoner outside when he passed over the +sidewalk, ironed between two stalwart officers, into the jail van. +McCausland's identification with the case had affected public opinion +profoundly, for he was said never to have failed to convict a criminal +whom he had once brought into court. But possibly the outburst was due +to the circumstance that this was the neighborhood in which the Lacy +girls lived and that their funeral had taken place that very morning.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE CLOUDS THICKEN.</h3> + + +<p>"Shagarach is the man to defend him, Miss Barlow," said old John +Davidson. She was lying back against the cushions of the cab, with +cheeks as white as the handkerchief she held to her lips. For the +marshal had kindly offered to accompany her home and she had told him +part of her story.</p> + +<p>She was, as McCausland had said to the district attorney, a photographic +retoucher. You must know that a negative when it leaves the camera is no +more fit for display than milk fresh from the cow is drinkable. All the +minor blemishes which you and I, not being made in the stamp of bluff +old Oliver, dislike to see perpetuated in our counterfeit presentments, +must be carefully stippled out. The work is not without its irksomeness, +requiring long hours of labor as well as firmness of touch. The strain +upon the young lady's eyes was evident, and her face, for all its +beauty, was as delicate as thinnest porcelain. One felt that her +fingers, if she held them toward the sun, would show the red suffusion +of a child's. But her earnings supported a family of five, and her +character had won the love of Robert Floyd.</p> + +<p>"Who is Shagarach?" she asked, as if struck by the name.</p> + +<p>"Shagarach! Why, Shagarach's the coming man, the greatest criminal +lawyer in the state and the greatest cross-examiner in the world—a mind +reader, black art in it. Never lost a case."</p> + +<p>"This is my number, Mr. Davidson."</p> + +<p>"Ho, there! John! Cabby!" The marshal rapped at the window.</p> + +<p>"What was the number, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Four hundred and twelve."</p> + +<p>"Stop at 412."</p> + +<p>"You have been very kind to interest yourself in one who is not known to +you, Mr. Davidson. I should have been badly off without your +assistance."</p> + +<p>"Didn't do half enough," answered the marshal. "Glad to be of service. +Call on me again. Here's Shagarach's address. Take my advice and look +him up."</p> + +<p>He had been writing on the back of a card while the cab-driver was +slowing his team around in front of Miss Barlow's door. It read in a +scrawl, rendered half-illegible by the jolting: "Meyer Shagarach, 31 +Putnam Street."</p> + +<p>Emily looked twice at the singular name. McCausland never failed to +convict his prisoners. Shagarach's clients invariably escaped. What +would happen if the two were pitted against each other? This was her +thought when she mounted the dear steps of home and fell weeping into +the arms of her mother.</p> + +<p>The following morning a remarkable discovery was made on the site of +Prof. Arnold's house. The burned district had been roped off and was +guarded by policemen, owing to the danger from the standing walls and +still smoking debris. But tip-carts had begun to remove what was +removable of the wreck, and the work of clearing away the ground was +already well under way. Sight-seers in great numbers went out of their +course to pass the ruins, for the Harmon building was of recent erection +and had been styled a model of business architecture.</p> + +<p>But "Toot" Watts, "Turkey" Fenton and "The Whistler" were not indulging +in reminiscences of departed architectural glories that morning. They +averaged 14 years and 110 pounds, a combination hostile to sentiment in +any but its most robust forms. "That nutty duffer gives me a pain," was +their unanimous criticism from the gallery of the "Grand Dime," upon the +garden rhapsodies of their co-mate and brother in adolescence, Romeo. +But in the evenings, if that long fence, which is the gamin's delight, +happened to be under surveillance from the "cop," they would march up +street and down, Turkey mouthing his harmonica, Toot opening and +shutting a wheezy accordion, the Whistler fifing away with that +thrush-like note to which he owed his nickname, and all three beating +time by their own quick footsteps to the melody of some sweet, familiar +song. Amid such surroundings even the ditties sung by our mothers many +seasons ago can bring up wholesome sentiments in which the boyish +musicians who evoke them are surely sharers.</p> + +<p>On the day before Toot had surreptitiously conveyed a fresh egg to +school and rolled it playfully down the aisle, whereupon Turkey, as he +was walking out at 4, had set the stamp of approval on his friend's +property. All three had decided to take a day off until the affair +should blow over, and no better pastime suggested itself than a visit to +the fire, in which they took a sort of proprietary interest, since they +had been the first after the bake-shop girl, to arrive on the spot. The +passageway beside the house was still left open and unguarded. So our +urchins, approaching from the Broad street side, coolly entered the +forbidden precincts thereby, thus eluding the blue-coated watchers by a +flank movement as simple as it was effective.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to pick up junk and sell it to Bagley," said Turkey, filling +his pocket with bolts, nuts and other fragments which he deemed of +value. The others followed his example and began rummaging about with +insecure footing among the heaps.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" the Whistler emitted a long-drawn note no flute could possibly +rival. He had been brushing away the ashes from a heavy object, when his +eye was attracted by a fragment of cloth, which clung about it. His +whistle drew the attention of his companions, but it also invited a less +welcome arrival, no other than one of the patrolmen doing guard duty, +who swooped down and seized Turkey and the Whistler by their collars, +while Toot scrambled off with unseemly haste and escaped down the +alleyway.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" said the officer, shaking the boys till their +teeth chattered, and several pieces of iron, dropping out of Turkey's +pockets, disclosed the object of their visit. "Stealing junk, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Say, look," said the Whistler, who was cool and inventive; "it's a +woman." He was pointing to the object he had laid bare. The officer +slackened his grip.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he cried; then stooped and by a full exertion of his strength +lifted the thing out of the ashes and half-burned timbers which overlay +it. It was, indeed, the body of a woman, short and stout. The boys did +not run. They looked on, spellbound, in open-mouthed wonder.</p> + +<p>"Run and call the sergeant," said the policeman to his quondam captives.</p> + +<p>The news spread like wildfire. Hundreds swarmed to the scene, but none +among them who had the key to the woman's identity. Her charred face and +burned body rendered identification difficult. It was Inspector +McCausland who, after consulting his notebook, recognized the garment +and the form which it clad as Ellen Greeley's. An ambulance was called +and the corpse of the poor woman carried away to the morgue, to await +her sister's instructions.</p> + +<p>Senda Wesner, the bake-shop girl, had described this discovery for the +eleventh time to her customers, and was standing on the steps of her +store alone—a condition to which she was by nature averse—when the +golden-haired lady "flashed in upon her," as she afterward said, "like a +Baltimore oriole." It was Emily Barlow, who had run down during her +lunch hour to the scene of the tragedy. At the first mention of her +name, Miss Wesner knew her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're the young lady he kept company with," she said. "Isn't it +too bad? I don't believe he ever did it. No man in his senses would set +his own house afire and then walk out in broad daylight, as I saw Mr. +Floyd do."</p> + +<p>"You saw Mr. Floyd coming out, then? Pardon my curiosity, but I am so +deeply interested——"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think much of you if you were not," said Senda Wesner. "I'm +glad to tell all I know about it, and I can't see for the life of me why +they didn't call me to the stand."</p> + +<p>Emily saw that no apology was needed for questioning the bake-shop girl. +She was easy to make free with and fond of running on. Being a little +reticent herself, Emily was glad to be relieved of the necessity of +putting inquiries. So she simply guided the little gossip's talk.</p> + +<p>"You did see Mr. Floyd leave the house? Was it long before the fire +broke out?"</p> + +<p>"Four or five minutes. I'd noticed Bertha raising the curtains—two +Washington pies? yes'm—I'd seen Bertha up in the study, I say, but then +Joe Tyke, Joey, we call him, the cripple newsboy, though he is quite a +man now, but he never grew, deformed, you know—Joey was trundling +himself along on his little cart, and I couldn't take my eyes off of +him—20 cents, yes'm." The bake-shop girl continued to spread jam, ladle +milk and wrap warm loaves in fresh brown paper, all the while, but her +interruptions only formed tiny ripples on her flowing stream of prattle. +"Then Mr. Robert came out and walked down to the corner slowly. But do +you know what puzzled me? What was he stooping over the hearth for and +picking up those pieces of paper?"</p> + +<p>"People often do that. Perhaps he had torn up a letter and some of it +had scattered outside the fireplace."</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't see another thing, not one thing, against him," said +Miss Wesner, decidedly. Her ideas on the value of evidence were +certainly of the most feminine order. "I'm sure he's a young man of the +highest reputation. Never smoked or drank or——"</p> + +<p>"You didn't see any other person coming out of the house?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't. Yes, Gertrude, and how's your mamma? That's a sweet +thing, only 10 years old, but does all the errands and half the +housework for her mother, that's sick, and never slaps the baby."</p> + +<p>"Or any stranger about?" edged in Emily again, when the spigot was +finally turned off and the waters of gossip had ceased to run.</p> + +<p>"Do you know——" The bake-shop girl dimpled her cheek with her +forefinger. It was a healthy cheek, but not beautiful. "Do you know, +there has been the oddest peddler around here for the last three weeks?"</p> + +<p>"Do tell me about him. What did he look like? A stranger?"</p> + +<p>"Never passed this street before as long as I know and that's a good +many years. He was a sunburnt sort of man, like all the peddlers (only +I'd say homelier, if I wasn't a fright myself), and with crazy blue +eyes. Always came in a green cart and sold vegetables, no, once potted +plants. But how he would yodel. Why, he'd make you deaf. Ellen used to +buy of him sometimes. Nobody else ever did, and it's my opinion when he +left the Arnolds he used to whip up his horse and hurry right round the +corner."</p> + +<p>"Was this peddler here lately?"</p> + +<p>"Not since Friday, the day before the fire; I'm positive."</p> + +<p>"He wasn't here Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"No, he wasn't. But I must say, peddler or no peddler, I don't believe +Robert Floyd ever set that fire."</p> + +<p>There was more that Senda Wesner believed and disbelieved—so much, +indeed, that when Emily left her she had asked herself twice what a room +full of Senda Wesners would be like. But she checked this uncharitable +thought. The girl was good-hearted and her information about the peddler +might prove a clew. After making a half-circuit of the house which was +so familiar to her, for she had visited it often, she returned to her +stippling pencil in the photograph gallery, pondering now upon the +identity of the strange peddler, now upon the sad fate of Ellen Greeley, +and oftenest of all on the lover who was spending his first day in the +solitude of a felon's cell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>ENTER SHAGARACH.</h3> + + +<p>"Meyer Shagarach, Attorney-at-Law."</p> + +<p>The shingle could not have been more commonplace, the office stairs more +dingy. A Jewish boy opened the door at Emily's knock and a young man of +the same persuasion arose from his desk and bustled forward to inquire +her business.</p> + +<p>"Meester Shagarach is in. Did you wish to see him?"</p> + +<p>After a moment a second door was opened and Emily was motioned into the +inner office.</p> + +<p>"This way, madam."</p> + +<p>The man writing at the table barely glanced up at first, but, seeing who +his visitor was, he rose and placed a seat for her. There was courtesy +but no geniality in the gesture. Shagarach did not smile. It was said +that he never smiled.</p> + +<p>From the beginning Emily felt that she was in the presence of a man of +destiny. Before sitting down her intuitions had determined her to enlist +this force on Robert's side at any cost. Shagarach's body was small, his +clothing mean and crinkled all over, as if its owner spent many hours +daily crouched in a chair. But the face drew one's gaze and absorbed it. +With care it might have been handsome, though the dead-black beard grew +wild and the hair, tossed carelessly to one side, fell back at +intervals, requiring to be brushed in place by the owner's hand. Under +the smooth, bony brow that marks the Hebrew shone two eyes of +extraordinary splendor, the largest, Emily thought, she had ever seen, +and set the widest apart—brown and melting as a dog's, but glowing, as +no dog's ever did, with profundities of human intelligence. Wide open at +all times, they cast penetrating glances, never sidelong, always +full—the eyes of a soul-searcher, a student of those characters, +legible but elusive; which the spirit writes upon its outer garment. +Their physical dimensions lent a large power to the face, as if more of +the visible world could be comprehended within those magnificent organs +than the glances of ordinary men compass. But the mouth below seemed +rigid as granite, even during the play of speech.</p> + +<p>"My name is Miss Barlow," said Emily.</p> + +<p>"Come to engage my services for Floyd?" he inquired. It was his habit to +cut into the heart of a problem at the first stroke and Emily felt +grateful on the whole that the preliminaries were shortened.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Floyd is innocent and I want you to save him."</p> + +<p>"Why did he not employ an advocate?"</p> + +<p>"The judge——"</p> + +<p>"Pursued the only course open to him. The evidence was damaging. What +have you learned since yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Ellen Greeley——"</p> + +<p>"Is dead. The dog's instincts were right then. There was some one +inside. Aronson."</p> + +<p>The young man answered this peremptory call.</p> + +<p>"My Evening Beacon."</p> + +<p>It was brought at once.</p> + +<p>"The newspapers are correct in their surmise. Ellen Greeley went +upstairs, as Bertha testified. The day was hot. She lay upon the bed in +her own room, and fell asleep. The barking of Sire did not wake her. +Her room was in the rear, two flights up. The shouting of the crowd did +not wake her. The fire may have waked her too late and her shrieks +escaped notice in the uproar; or she may have been suffocated during her +nap."</p> + +<p>Shagarach spoke in a clear, loud voice that expressed and carried +conviction. Emily wondered at his familiarity, far surpassing her own, +with the details of the case.</p> + +<p>"You see the improvement in our cause at once?"</p> + +<p>Emily tried hard to think.</p> + +<p>"Of course it proved Ellen could not have been a confederate," she +suggested, modestly.</p> + +<p>"Ellen Greeley sleeping in the attic chamber, who slammed the door?"</p> + +<p>Shagarach's eyes shone like carbuncles. "It was not Floyd. He was not in +the habit of slamming doors. And no man seeking to escape does that +which will attract attention—unless"—he dwelt on the word +significantly—"unless he is fleeing in haste."</p> + +<p>"Then you believe, Mr. Shagarach——"</p> + +<p>"It was the back door which slammed. They failed to confuse Bertha on +that. It slammed after Floyd had gone out. Did Floyd go out the back +door?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Wesner, the young lady who lives opposite, saw him coming down the +front steps."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Four or five minutes before the fire."</p> + +<p>"Ellen did not go out the back door. Floyd did not go out the back door. +Some one else did."</p> + +<p>"And you will take the case, Mr. Shagarach?" Emily awaited his answer as +breathlessly as if Robert's life or death hung in a trembling balance +which Shagarach's finger could tip to one side or the other.</p> + +<p>"It interests me. Have you a photograph of the accused with you?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Emily, thinking the request somewhat strange.</p> + +<p>Shagarach began gazing at her with extraordinary intensity. The great +will inclosed in his little body seemed to bear down hard upon her so as +really to hurt. But she felt no resentment, only a kind of satisfied +acquiescence, as if all were for the best. Yet, among ordinary people +Emily was an individuality rare and fragrant, asserting herself +forcefully, without being in the least self-assertive.</p> + +<p>"Have you anything else?" asked the lawyer. Emily did not know how long +the interim was.</p> + +<p>"There is the strange peddler," she ventured to say. This time his +answer was an interrogative look.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wesner spoke of him today—a vegetable vender, who has been coming +to the Arnold's for the last few weeks——"</p> + +<p>"How many?"</p> + +<p>"Three or four, I think."</p> + +<p>"Since the will was made, then?"</p> + +<p>"And dealing with Ellen. About the will——"</p> + +<p>"Let us finish with the peddler."</p> + +<p>"He had blue eyes and drove a cart painted green. Nobody had ever seen +him in the neighborhood before, till he came selling vegetables and +potted plants. His last visit was made on Friday."</p> + +<p>"Not Saturday, the day of the fire?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Wesner, who is very observing, has not seen him since Friday."</p> + +<p>"Not as a peddler," said Shagarach, sotto voce. "Now as to the will. You +wish to say that Floyd has told you of his uncle's desire to make him +sole heir and his own aversion to the responsibilities of so large a +property."</p> + +<p>"Does he practice clairvoyance?" asked Emily of herself.</p> + +<p>"Robert is no lover of money," she said. "To allege avarice against him +as a motive is monstrous."</p> + +<p>"Avarice, Miss Barlow? To love money is not avarice. Men grow to their +opportunities. Without opportunities they wither and without money today +there is no opportunity."</p> + +<p>"The artist—does his genius gain or lose when it is gilded?" replied +Emily, who felt a match even for Shagarach in the defense of her lover.</p> + +<p>"The artist—ah, he is not of the world! Gold might well be to him an +incumbrance. But to the worker among men it is the key to a thousand +coffers."</p> + +<p>There was deep feeling in these words of the criminal lawyer. Emily +wondered if there might not have been a past of poverty, perhaps of +spiritual aspiration and disappointment in his life, all subdued to the +present indomitable aim at fortune and reputation.</p> + +<p>"The refusal was a folly, a stripling's fatal blunder—yet a blunder of +which not three men in our city are capable. Let us leave the will. It +may reappear in its proper sequence. No suspicious character was seen +loitering about or leaving the house on Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"My inquiries have been limited to Miss Wesner."</p> + +<p>"Aronson!"</p> + +<p>The young man reappeared as before.</p> + +<p>"Make thorough inquiry this evening in the neighborhood of the Arnold +house, rear and front, for a stranger seen loitering about the premises +or issuing from them on Saturday afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Barlow, I have a theory," resumed Shagarach, turning to Emily +again. He folded his arms and looked at her steadfastly, yet as though +his gaze were fixed on something beyond.</p> + +<p>"I see your lover's photograph in your eyes—mild blue eyes, but +touchstones of integrity, hard to deceive. He impresses me well. His +story, moreover, bears a somewhat uncommon voucher. It is true because +of its improbability. How improbable that any man would refuse a gift of +$10,000,000! How improbable that any man, not a sleep-walker, would +wander through the streets of a city without any record of his sensuous +impressions!"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"The improbability of the story demonstrates its truth. Men lie, women +lie, children lie. Have you watched a band of girls playing at the +imitation of school? How cunningly the teacher feigns anger, the pupils +naughtiness and sad repentance. Have you observed the plausibility in +the inventions of toddling babes to escape imminent chastisement? +Falsehood is a normal faculty and equipped with its protective armor, +plausibility. Your friend's story is too preposterous to be untrue."</p> + +<p>Emily was bewildered by these rapid paradoxes.</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you upon your friendship with so unusual a specimen of +our kind, the man who cannot or will not lie. But I should not like to +present his defense on such grounds to twelve of his fellow-creatures, +normal in that respect. Fortunately we are not driven to that extreme +refuge.</p> + +<p>"The material for a theory is meager; the chain shows many gaps. But I +find no evidence that Floyd attempted to get rid of the servant, Bertha. +A child, meditating this crime, would not have neglected so obvious a +precaution. Her continued absence was only an opportune accident. Her +re-entrance would have resulted in his discovery. The point is pivotal.</p> + +<p>"I find that a favorite house dog was left in the room to be +sacrificed—a needless cruelty if the incendiary were his master, a +necessary precaution if he were a stranger whose actions the animal +would have understood and whom he would have followed to the street."</p> + +<p>"But would Sire have allowed a stranger even to enter the study?"</p> + +<p>"True; but between strangers and friends there is a middle category +consisting of persons whom we may call acquaintances. Into these three +degrees we are divided by dogkind. It was not a stranger or he would +have been attacked. He had no friends left but Bertha, Ellen and Floyd. +The dog was drowsing on the mat. The man who entered was an +acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"Who was this man? We have a few items of his description. Some one +known to the dog, familiar with the premises and interested in the +destruction of the document of which that house, that room and that safe +were the triple-barred shrine. An expert criminal could have destroyed +the safe without detection, but the incendiary was an amateur, and such +an act would require time. There was no time, not an instant. The +executor was to arrive that afternoon. McCausland started right. The +Harmon building was destroyed and seven lives sacrificed in order that +Benjamin Arnold's will might be irrevocably canceled. Who benefited by +its destruction?</p> + +<p>"The professor had desired to make Robert Floyd his sole heir, in other +words, to disinherit Harry Arnold!"</p> + +<p>Shagarach's monologue had reached its climax. The name of the other +cousin came out like the ring of a hammer. He waited, as if yielding +Emily an opportunity to object, but as she sat passive and expectant, he +went on, his arms still folded, and his glowing eyes evincing deep +absorption in the problem he was elucidating.</p> + +<p>"Harry Arnold was in disfavor, then. The drafting of the will must have +been communicated to him, but probably not its items. The mere fact, +however, was ominous. It might mean the loss of a fortune. One of the +servants was dressing 'uncommonly rich' of late. The wherewithal came to +her as payment for conveying to Harry Arnold all she could pick up about +the will. It may not have been pleasant news.</p> + +<p>"It was from Mrs. Arnold McCausland first learned of the will. It was +Harry Arnold who hastened to advertise a reward of $5,000—McCausland's +fee if——"</p> + +<p>"As to the fee," said Emily.</p> + +<p>"I understand; the legacy of $20,000 amply protects me."</p> + +<p>Emily was uncertain whether or not Shagarach meant to demand the whole +$20,000 for his services.</p> + +<p>"I find that the flies were about the honey pot. Mrs. Arnold's carriage +drove up about 3 o'clock. The executor was to call that afternoon. +Revelation could not be long delayed. The plot was desperately formed, +favored by circumstance and executed by Harry Arnold and his +accomplices."</p> + +<p>"But Harry Arnold has been ill, Mr. Shagarach."</p> + +<p>"The name of his physician?"</p> + +<p>"I believe, Dr. Whipple, the pathologist. You suspect Harry, then, of +the crime?"</p> + +<p>"I have not studied him yet. This is only an alternative theory. You see +how easily it could have been constructed in your friend's behalf.</p> + +<p>"Mungovan, the discharged coachman, has not yet been found. The strange +peddler may prove a confederate. You will send Bertha to me. She is the +central witness. Is Floyd in jail?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Emily, sadly; "but a permit——"</p> + +<p>"I shall not need one. I am his counsel."</p> + +<p>Emily descended the creaking stairway and rode home with a certain new +elation, such as we sometimes feel after contact with some electric +character, some grand reservoir of human vitality. Meyer Shagarach +meanwhile began pacing up and down, occasionally speaking to himself +sotto voce.</p> + +<p>A criminal lawyer, but with the head of an imperial chancellor.</p> + +<p>What was known of this rare man's history? About thirty years before he +was born in a small town on the upper Nile, a descendant of those mighty +Jewish families whose expulsion impoverished Spain, while spreading her +tongue throughout the orient, even beyond the Turcoman deserts to the +unvisited cities of Khiva and Merv. Languages were his birthright, as +naturally and almost as numerously as the digits on his hands. In his +youth his father had wandered to America—refuge of all wild, strange +spirits of the earth—and died, leaving a widow and a son. The boy had +been visionary, unpractical—a white blackbird among his tribe. For +years he had struggled to support his mother, first as an attorney's +drudge, then as a scribbler. There was no market for his wares. Then by +a sudden wrench, showing the vise-like strength of his will, he had +burst the bubble of his early hopes and chosen for his profession that +of all professions which requires the most thorough subjection of the +sentiments. It was six years since he had first rented the obscure +quarters he now occupied, the same where, as a lad, he had sighed away +many hours of distasteful toil.</p> + +<p>For the first two years Shagarach's face showed the desperation of his +fortunes. His own people shunned him as a seceder from the synagogue. To +the public he was still unknown. But one day a trivial case had matched +him against a certain eminent pleader, a Goliath in stature and in +skill. The end of the day's tourney witnessed his bulk prostrated +before the undersized scion of the house of David. From that hour the +dimensions of his fame had grown apace. Critics noticed an occasional +simplicity in everyday matters, just as a gifted foreigner who has +become eloquent in our tongue may have to ask some commonplace native +for a word now and then. Rivals questioned his technical learning, who +had little else to boast. Yet Shagarach's knowledge, practical or legal, +was always found adequate to his cause. Whether he was pedantically +profound in the law or not might be an open question. But all who knew +him at all knew him for a Titan.</p> + +<p>The man appeared to be lonely by nature. Excepting the young assistant, +Aronson, he associated no colleague with him, carrying all the details +of his growing volume of business in his own capacious mind. Other men +made memoranda. Shagarach remembered. What he might be in himself none +knew; yet "all things to all men" was a motto he spurned. Shagarach was +Shagarach to judge or scullion, everywhere masterful, unruffled, +mysterious. Were it not for the luminous eyes he might be taken for an +abstract thinker. These orbs supplied the magnetism to rivet crowds and +suggested a seer of deep soul-secrets (unknown even to their possessor), +dormant, perhaps subdued, but not annihilated, under the exterior +equipment of the criminal lawyer.</p> + +<p>Shagarach often colloqued with himself as he was doing now. In his +trials, though he neither badgered witnesses nor wrangled with +opponents, he was noted for sotto-voce comments, sometimes ironical, +that seemed scarcely conscious. These mannerisms might be relics of a +solitary pre-existence, in which the habit of thinking aloud had been +formed.</p> + +<p>"Was it Arnold or Mungovan who touched the match?" He continued his +pacing in silence. "Both knew the premises, Mungovan the better of the +two."</p> + +<p>The electric street lamp shone into his room and the footfalls of the +last tenant, receding on the stairs, had long since died to silence.</p> + +<p>"I will study Arnold," he said, finally, buttoning his coat, as if the +problem were as good as solved.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE ROYSTERERS.</h3> + + +<p>"Get the mail, Indigo."</p> + +<p>The letters made a goodly heap on the salver, but Harry Arnold sifted +them over with an air of dissatisfaction. One cream-colored envelope, +superscribed in a dainty hand, he laid apart. The rest he tore open and +tossed into Indigo's lap, as if they were duns, invitations and other +such formal matters.</p> + +<p>"Drop a line apiece to these bores," he said to his valet, with a yawn. +Like the whole tribe of the unoccupied, he was too busy to answer +letters.</p> + +<p>"Where's Aladdin?"</p> + +<p>"Grazing in the paddock."</p> + +<p>"Did you get the roses for Miss March?"</p> + +<p>"Two dozen Marechal Neils."</p> + +<p>"I want some paper for a note to go with them. Mother's prompt," he +added, opening the letter he had reserved, while Indigo went on his +errand. It was headed "Hillsborough," and ran as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Harry: It is a pleasure to be in our old summer home again, +especially after the trying day I spent in that courtroom. The +orchards are no longer in bloom, and the pear tree in the angle +(your favorite), which was just a great pyramid of snowy blossoms +when we arrived last year, is now budding with fruit. These things +remind me how late the season has begun this year. Do not prolong +it too far, Harry, dear. I am sure, after your illness, the mere +sight of the open fields would do you good. Woodlawn is suburban, +but it is not real country. Besides, we are only twenty miles out +and you could ride in town in an hour whenever you liked.</p> + +<p>"Be assured you shall have the money for your club expenses as soon +as I can collect it. But property has its embarrassments, you know; +and we may be rich in bonds and indentures, yet lack ready pennies +at times, strange as it may seem to your inexperience. Do not +worry, dear. In your present delicate state of health it may injure +you more than I care to think. The very next time I come to town +you shall have what you desire. But I make my own terms. You must +be a good boy and come to Hillsborough for it. Forgive my writing +so soon. I have been thinking of you, and it surely cannot +displease you to hear once more how dearly you are remembered, +wherever she goes, by your loving mother,</p> + +<p class="right">"ALICE BREWSTER ARNOLD."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Once more! No, nor a thousand times more!" cried Harry. "But I wish +she'd come down sooner with the cash," he added. "What's this? +Postscript?"</p> + +<p>"Your friends, the Marches, have taken their cottage in Lenox. Possibly +this may hasten your coming more than my entreaties."</p> + +<p>"Jealous of Rosalie, already," laughed Harry. "Poor mother! What, +another?"</p> + +<blockquote><p>"P. S. (Private)—It would be wise, Harry, if you should call upon +your cousin. A visit from you would look well at this time."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"A call on Rob? Gad, I never thought of that. Give me the stationery, +Indigo."</p> + +<p>For five minutes Harry Arnold was alone, writing his prettiest note of +compliment to accompany the gift of flowers to Miss Rosalie March. He +had just moistened the mucilage when there came a ring at the bell.</p> + +<p>"See if that's the fellows, Indigo. Look through the shutters."</p> + +<p>"It's Kennedy," said Indigo, twisting his neck and eyes so as to get a +slanting view of the callers.</p> + +<p>"Who else?"</p> + +<p>"Idler and Sunburst."</p> + +<p>"Let them up."</p> + +<p>"Well, Harry," cried the first of the three bloods, extending a hand, +"what's the tempo of your song this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Allegro, vivace, vivacissimo, Idler. Convalescing; doctor says I may go +out; mother agreeable; medicine chest thrown to the dogs. Have a pill; +only a few more left."</p> + +<p>"Hello!" cried the fragile youth who had entered last. "Miss Rosalie +March!" He picked up the envelope which Harry had laid down. "Sits the +wind in that quarter still, Horatio?"</p> + +<p>"The actress, Harry?" cried a second of the trio.</p> + +<p>"What actress, you booby? Miss March isn't an actress."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, she occasionally acts," retorted Sunburst. His yellow +beard entitled him to this alias.</p> + +<p>"Just the opposite, then, of her brother, Tristram," said the tall, +sallow youth addressed as Idler. "He is a sculptor, but he never sculps. +Did you see his alto-relievo of a Druid's head in the Art club? Capital +study. Why in the deuce doesn't he work?"</p> + +<p>"If he did he might get his goods on the market," said Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"Out on you for a Philistine, a dunderhead!" cried Harry. "Do you +confound genius with salability? Idler could correct you on that point. +You remember his satire on 'The Religious Significance of Umbrellas in +China?' Was anything ever more daringly conceived, more wittily +executed, more—but I spare the shades of Addison and Lamb. And how much +did it fetch him? A paltry $15."</p> + +<p>Idler was the only one of these well-born good-for-naughts who ever +turned his gifts to use. Sketches over the sobriquet by which he was +known to his friends occasionally appeared in the lighter magazines.</p> + +<p>"But my 'New Broom' made a clean sweep, Harry," he protested.</p> + +<p>"Murder," groaned Harry. "He had that in for us. A prepared joke is +detestable. It's like bottled spring water."</p> + +<p>"Hang spring water!" said Idler. "Hang water anyway!"</p> + +<p>"Indigo," cried Harry, jumping at the hint, "fetch us some very weak +whey from the spa. Let's have a real old high jinks of a slambang bust +to celebrate my convalescence. Hello! What's that?"</p> + +<p>The wild wail of a bagpipe smote the air and the four boon companions +rushed to the window.</p> + +<p>"Have him in!"</p> + +<p>"Yoho!"</p> + +<p>"Here, Sawnie!"</p> + +<p>"He's coming."</p> + +<p>Indigo and the piper entered from opposite doors at about the same time, +the former fetching the "whey," which had a suspiciously reddish hue and +was served in narrow bottles, the latter arrayed in all the bravery of +his plaids, with a little boy by his side in similar costume.</p> + +<p>"Hit her up, Sawnie," cried Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"Let him wet his whistle first," said the Sunburst.</p> + +<p>"And here's a handsel to cross his palm," added Harry, passing the piper +something invisible. The minstrel pocketed it with an awkward bow and +drank down the proffered "whey" at one gulp.</p> + +<p>"I'll be reminding you, gentlemen," he said in "braid Scots," "lest ye +labor under a misapprehension of my cognomen, that my name is not +Sawnie, but Duncan McKenzie Logan, and this is my wee bairn, Archibald +Campbell of that ilk. We're half-lowland, as ye doubtless know, the +Logans being a border clan."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you make the youngster blow the bellows?" cried Idler. "The +organ-player never does the pumping."</p> + +<p>"I'm no organ-player, if you please. 'Tis the hieland pipes I play, and +there's no blowing the bellows except with my ain mouth. But the laddie +dances prettily. Show your steps, Archie. Show the gentlemen a fling. +Ainblins they've never seen the like of it before."</p> + +<p>Archie was as highland as his father in rig, from his jaunty feathered +bonnet to the kilt just reaching below his bare, brown knees. His firm +boyish face had a Scotch prettiness in it, nothing effeminate, yet sweet +to look at, and he went through the steps of the highland fling +gracefully, one hand on hip, the other over his head, reversing them now +and then, and occasionally spinning around, while the piper struck up +"Roy's Wife." The conclusion was greeted with a burst of applause.</p> + +<p>"Can't we dance to that tune, boys?" shouted Harry, seizing Kennedy +around the waist. "Choose your partners. Give us a Tarantella."</p> + +<p>"There's nae such tune in the hielands," said the piper, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Well, the skirt dance will do. Hit her up and I'll make you a present +big enough to buy all your aunts and cousins porridge for a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"There's nae skeert dance known to my pipes," said the highlander, +shaking his head. "Dinna ye mean the sword dance?"</p> + +<p>"Try 'Highland Laddie'," suggested Idler, hitting up a lively jig on the +piano. The piper fell in and soon was pacing up and down the room, red +in the face from his exertions, while the four merrymakers capered, +kicked and skipped, with all sorts of offhand juvenilities. Harry, +though the tallest present, was graceful as a girl.</p> + +<p>"Hold up, fellows," cried the Sunburst, at last, puffing audibly. But +the piper continued pacing up and down, forgetting everything in the +furore of his enthusiasm except the moaning and shrieking of his +instrument.</p> + +<p>"Hold up, I say. Shut off your infernal drone. We can't hear ourselves +think."</p> + +<p>"'Tis the wind wailing on Craig-Ellachie I hear," said he of the +Caledonian names.</p> + +<p>"I think it's delirium tremens. Take a nip of the whey. That'll cure +you. Here, Indigo, tap the geyser again for Sawnie."</p> + +<p>Logan was not the man to set up frivolous punctilios against such an +order as Idler's.</p> + +<p>"There's medicine for the inner mon," he said, smacking his lips with +gusto.</p> + +<p>"Medicinal, eh? If you happen to take an overdose it's a medicinal +spree, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I say, isn't tomorrow the Fourth?" cried Sunburst. "Play something +patriotic, Sawnie, 'Hull's Victory,' or 'Lady Washington's Reel.'"</p> + +<p>"There's nane o' them known to me or my instrument," said the minstrel. +"It's a Scotch pipe and will play nane but the auld tunes of Scotland."</p> + +<p>"Scotland! What's Scotland?" asked Idler.</p> + +<p>"Wha—can it be ye never heard tell o' bonnie Scotland?" gasped the +highlander, who was nearing the condition which Idler had described as +a "medicinal spree."</p> + +<p>"What is it, a man or a place? Did you ever meet the name before, +fellows?"</p> + +<p>All three solemnly shook their heads, whereat the Caledonian's jaw +dropped in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Wull, wull, I knew 'twas a most barbarous country I entered, but I'd +thought the least enlightened peoples of the airth had heard of the +glory and the celebrity of bonnie Scotland."</p> + +<p>"Bonnie Scotland? Is Bonnie his first name?"</p> + +<p>"Why, 'tis the country o' Scotland, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know," interposed Harry; "that little, barren, outlying province +somewhere to the north of England."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that!" cried the others, in contemptuous chorus.</p> + +<p>"Where the coast line gets ragged, like an old beggar's coat," said +Idler.</p> + +<p>"And the people live on haggis and finnan haddie," added Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"They are mostly exiles of Erin that have drifted back into barbarism," +cried the Sunburst.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's the place," said Harry. "I've heard travelers tell of it. I +believe it's put down in the latest gazetteer."</p> + +<p>Poor Logan looked like a stifling man, but before he could launch his +reply the long-drawn tones of a rival troubadour invaded the apartment. +Once more the four roysterers rushed to the window.</p> + +<p>"It's a dago!"</p> + +<p>"Ahoy!" they signaled, waving their hands.</p> + +<p>"Open the door for him, Indigo," cried Harry.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear tell o' such savages, Archie?" whispered the piper to +his son; "that had no enlightenment on the name o' bonnie Scotland, +which is famous wherever valor and minstrelsy are honored."</p> + +<p>"They maun be jestin', daddy."</p> + +<p>"Jestin'? Tut, tut! Whaur's the jest?"</p> + +<p>"Presto bellisimo, Paganini," cried the four youths, each rushing to the +door and welcoming the organ-grinder, with a warm shake-hands. The +Italian smiled profusely and doffed his cap, his monkey climbing to the +organ top and imitating him in every gesture.</p> + +<p>"Tune up your bagpipes, Sawnie," cried Harry. "We are going to have a +tournament. Take a smell, Paganini?"</p> + +<p>"Noa," answered the Italian, shaking his head, "noa drink—a."</p> + +<p>"Then you're a bigger fool than you look," cried Idler, stumbling +tipsily. "(Hic) I'm losing control of my curves."</p> + +<p>"What tunes have you got in that box?" asked Harry of the organ-grinder, +while Logan eyed him grimly with a look of scorn.</p> + +<p>"What-a sing-a? 'Anni Runi.'"</p> + +<p>"That will do. Grind away. Hold on. Get a full breath, Sawnie. Now for a +medley."</p> + +<p>The organ-grinder began turning his crank, but the Scotchman sulked in +the corner.</p> + +<p>"Stop there, Paganini. False start. Try again."</p> + +<p>"I'll accompany nae uncivilized barrel-box, that's only fit to dandle +idiot bairns wi'."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about?" cried Idler. "Uncivilized! You wildman of +the hills! A red outlaw in his war paint couldn't look and act more +outlandish than you do."</p> + +<p>"Smooth him down, Harry," cried Sunburst. "Here, Sawnie, how much will +you take for your pipes?"</p> + +<p>"Enough to buy me them back again," answered the Scotchman, cannily, +"and a bonus for the time o' their privation."</p> + +<p>"You'll do," said Idler.</p> + +<p>"Have another nip of the whey and let's hear you drown the dago," +whispered Harry, confidentially, patting Logan on the back.</p> + +<p>"Drown him? 'Twad na tak' a big puddle to do that."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But he's vain enough to think just the opposite. A good +swig! Start her up now."</p> + +<p>Idler drummed on the piano a few bars of "Scots Wha Ha'e," which set the +piper marching and stamping again. At a nod from Harry the bowing +Italian resumed his tune, and when the four carousers took hands in a +circle and began chanting "Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot," the air +was infernal with discord.</p> + +<p>"Faster! Faster!" cried Harry. The Scotchman pranced in his industrious +ecstasy, while the Italian put both hands to the organ-crank and turned +for all that was in him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, a smile for my Rosalie!" shouted Kennedy, maliciously, changing the +air.</p> + +<p>"None of that!" cried Harry, barely making his voice heard above the +din. The little boy sitting in one corner had clapped both palms over +his ears, and the monkey, watching his gesture, gravely climbed up and +perched beside him, doing likewise.</p> + +<p>"A kiss for my Rosalie," roared Kennedy, tantalizing his host. +Half-angry, Harry caught up a wine bottle from the tray and pointed it +at his tormentor.</p> + +<p>"Pop!" the cork flew out and Kennedy put his hand to his eye with an +exclamation of pain.</p> + +<p>"Hello! What have I done?" cried Harry.</p> + +<p>"Didn't know it was loaded," jeered Idler. But the concert had stopped, +and when Kennedy uncovered his eye there was a blue swelling already +under the lid.</p> + +<p>"A surgeon!" cried Sunburst. "Amputate his head. It is the only hope of +saving the eye."</p> + +<p>"What's good for a black eye?" asked Harry, less unfeelingly than the +others.</p> + +<p>"Black the other for symmetry," cried Sunburst.</p> + +<p>"Get some beefsteak, Indigo," said Harry.</p> + +<p>"Kill the Jersey cow, Indigo, and cut off a sirloin," mocked Idler, who +was half-seas over now. Meanwhile the Scotchman and the Italian, +counting their emoluments, had folded their instruments and silently +stolen away; while Sunburst, apparently as porous as a sponge, calmly +and steadily put the bottle Harry had popped to his lips and drained it +to the dregs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>APPEARANCES AND DISAPPEARANCES.</h3> + + +<p>"Now for Sir Galahad in jail!" said Harry, touching the bay with the +point of his whip.</p> + +<p>"He was an awfully virtuous cad!" laughed Kennedy. Sunburst had offered +to convey Idler safely home, while Kennedy, the black-eyed, accompanied +Harry, himself none the better for his morning bottle-bout, to the +clubhouse in town. On the way they would make the visit to Robert.</p> + +<p>There was evidently a strong dash of the Arnold blood in Harry. He +showed more resemblance to his cousin than to the proud, thin-lipped +woman who had sat through Floyd's preliminary trial. A stranger might +even confuse them at the first glance, though Harry was five years the +older of the two. It could not be gainsaid that he bore his age well. +His movements were leopard-like in their swiftness and ease and his eyes +shone with mesmeric power. The little darkness under their lids might be +a peculiarity of complexion, but occasionally, in moments of repose, a +shadow, no more, seemed to cross the cheek and make it look worn. His +companions had noticed that the cue-point wavered a trifle in his hands +of late and that his masse shots sometimes failed to draw the balls. But +he was still facile princeps among gentlemen boxers of the city; and his +long, brown arms were a delight to watch on the river, crossing and +recrossing in the graceful rhythm of the practiced oarsman.</p> + +<p>Arnold's true nature was hard to judge, for circumstances had conspired +to spoil him from the cradle. A comely child, he had been allowed to +carry the knickerbocker period of tossing curls and gratified whims far +into his teens, and the discovery that her darling was a man, and no +longer a painted picture to be gazed at and displayed, had come upon his +mother suddenly, like an unforeseen catastrophe. It had cost her many a +pang to realize that she, who aspired to be sole mistress of his heart, +shared now only a divided affection with a score of alien interests. +Still she continued to indulge and anticipate his desires. They were +rich and social station was her birthright. But it was with a jealous +gnawing in her heart that she would sign the check for his new pleasure +yacht or watch him pat the neck of his steeplechaser Aladdin.</p> + +<p>The dislike she bore to Robert Floyd was a natural consequence of his +uncle's partiality. The families were outwardly upon good terms. If +early influence counts, there could not well be much similarity of taste +between the youth whose steps had been guided by the virile head of +Benjamin Arnold and the idol of that indulgent, worldly mother who never +forgot that she belonged to the Brewsters of Lynn.</p> + +<p>"Hold her ten minutes," said Harry, giving the reins to Kennedy at the +outer gate of the jail. His name was a sufficient passport to the +officer who guarded the outer turnstile, and he was directed across a +bricked yard to the jail building proper. Here a more detailed +explanation was exacted. Harry answered the questions suavely but not +without some suppressed impatience. A few moments of delay, which he +beguiled with an incessant finger-tattoo, and he was conducted to +murderers' row.</p> + +<p>"This isn't much like home, Rob," was his greeting, fortified by a hand +extended through the cell bars. Floyd pressed it somewhat coldly.</p> + +<p>"I'm grateful for the visit, Harry," he said.</p> + +<p>"I was deucedly down with malaria when uncle died, you know."</p> + +<p>"I was sorry to hear that from your mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes, might have come around to the trial, I suppose; but mother +wouldn't have it. You understand how she feels. Besides, what good could +I do?"</p> + +<p>"You are better now?"</p> + +<p>"Awoke this morning as fresh as a new-born babe. Going down to play +with the foils awhile. Can't stop long."</p> + +<p>Was it the glow of convalescence or of wine that shone in Harry's face? +He made one or two imaginary passes with his cane, regardless of the +feelings of the prisoner, to whom such a picture of prospective +enjoyment could hardly be soothing.</p> + +<p>"But I say, Rob," he cried, apparently remembering himself, "this is +hard on you. What do you think of it all?"</p> + +<p>Floyd eyed his cousin, as if the appropriate answer were not easy to +find.</p> + +<p>"It is hard," he replied.</p> + +<p>"What would Uncle Ben say if he were alive?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Benjamin would be the first to proclaim my innocence," said +Robert, his voice vibrant with emotion.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, Rob, I don't know whether to be sorry his old +scrawl's canceled or not. I had my doubts how I fared at Uncle Ben's +hands. Mother said my half was hunky, but you know uncle hadn't that +respect for my precious person she has." Harry's laugh showed that he +was well aware of his mother's weakness in that regard. "How was it? Do +you know? Did the old gentleman forget me?"</p> + +<p>"I believe we were treated nearly alike," answered Robert.</p> + +<p>"Gad, then I owe you $5,000,000——"</p> + +<p>"Did you come here to insult me?"</p> + +<p>At this outburst of indignation the sheriff's deputy drew near.</p> + +<p>"That was nothing, Rob," said Harry, sobering up. "Only my cursed +thoughtlessness. I'm sorry, on my word, you've got into the fix."</p> + +<p>"Carry your condolences somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well——"</p> + +<p>"I was always literal and I mean now what I say. Your apology only makes +the matter worse."</p> + +<p>There is nothing more subversive of dignity than an unpremeditated +sneeze. Not that Saul Aronson had much dignity to spare. On the +contrary, he was an extremely modest young man, with apparently one +great passion in his life, the service of Shagarach. On this occasion +his resounding ker-choo proclaimed from afar the arrival of that +personage and threw a ridiculous damper on the rising temper of the +cousins. Seeing the two strangers approach, Harry fumbled out a farewell +and withdrew with an air of languid bravado. Shagarach watched him as he +passed.</p> + +<p>"Follow that young man for a few hours," he said to Aronson. "I should +like to know his afternoon programme."</p> + +<p>Aronson hung on his master's lips and trotted off to obey his command.</p> + +<p>"I am Shagarach, come to defend you," he said to the prisoner, still +flushed with the remembrance of the quarrel.</p> + +<p>"Who sent you to defend me?" was the curt reply.</p> + +<p>"Your friend, Miss Barlow."</p> + +<p>"Emily?"</p> + +<p>Robert's voice grew softer.</p> + +<p>"I have some questions to ask you."</p> + +<p>"What have I done to be questioned as if I were a cut-throat? What have +I done to be jailed here like some wild beast, before whom life would +not be safe if he were let at large?"</p> + +<p>"I know you are innocent, Floyd."</p> + +<p>Only the falsely accused can tell how the first assurance of trust from +another revives hope and faith in their kind. Robert Floyd was no man to +lean on strangers, yet Shagarach's words were as soothing to him as a +gentle hand laid on a feverish forehead.</p> + +<p>"Your cousin Harry came here to verify his knowledge of the will, which +disinherited him, did he not?"</p> + +<p>"Harry was disinherited, that is true."</p> + +<p>"How came you to give up the profession of botanist, in which your uncle +trained you?"</p> + +<p>"Men interest me more than vegetables."</p> + +<p>"But you refused your uncle's wealth, that would have given you power +among men."</p> + +<p>"It was not mine. I had not earned it. I feared the temptation."</p> + +<p>"You are a journalist, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Six months ago I happened to report a conference of charities for the +Beacon. Today I am eking out my income by occasional work for that +paper."</p> + +<p>Shagarach thought of his own first brief. A youth, imperfectly +acquainted with English, was charged with the larceny of an overcoat +from his fellow-lodger. Something about him enlisted the sympathy of a +kind-hearted lady who drew Shagarach into the case because of his +knowledge of the Hebrew jargon which the prisoner spoke. The youth was +acquitted and was now a student of law, being no other than Shagarach's +assistant and idolater, Aronson. That was years ago. Today hundreds +flocked to hear his pleading of a cause, judges leaned over alertly, as +if learning their duty from him, and the very hangers-on of the +courtroom acquired a larger view of the moral law when Shagarach +expounded it.</p> + +<p>"My own beginnings were as humble," he said.</p> + +<p>"You are a criminal lawyer by choice, people say."</p> + +<p>"The moral alternative of innocence or guilt, of liberty or +imprisonment—sometimes, as now, of life or death—exalts a cause in my +eyes far above any elevation to which mere financial litigation can +attain."</p> + +<p>Robert looked his visitor over thoughtfully. The criminal lawyer was not +reputed the highest grade of the guild. But there was a sneer, too, in +many quarters for the journalist. He, too, must mingle in the reek of +cities, share Lazarus' crust and drink from the same cup with the +children of the slums.</p> + +<p>"And you have risen to the defense of murderers," he said.</p> + +<p>"Men accused of murder," answered Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"You are reputed to be uniformly successful."</p> + +<p>"That is no miracle. My clients are uniformly innocent. My first step is +to satisfy myself of that."</p> + +<p>"When were you first satisfied of my innocence?"</p> + +<p>"When I saw you here."</p> + +<p>"I am to be removed to the state prison while the jail is repaired," +said Robert, who had indulged dreams of some powerful intervention which +should procure his release. "How long before a final hearing will be +given me?"</p> + +<p>"Two months at most. The evidence against your cousin is growing rapidly +under my hands."</p> + +<p>"It was 'evidence' that brought me here. Is your 'evidence' against +Harry no more valuable?"</p> + +<p>"I am not prosecuting Harry Arnold, but every item that points to his +guilt guides the finger of suspicion away from you."</p> + +<p>Shagarach was satisfied with his interview. He had elicited proof to his +own mind of Robert's innocence and legal evidence of Harry's +disinheritance under the will. To fasten knowledge of the fact upon the +cousin would now be an easier task.</p> + +<p>"Miss Barlow will be permitted to see you," was his parting assurance to +the prisoner before he hurriedly returned to his office, to find an +unexpected client awaiting him.</p> + +<p>John Davidson, the marshal, had a friendly habit, the legacy of a +country bringing-up, which his acquaintances found both useful and +agreeable. Our tired Emily, trudging to Shagarach's with the heavy +message of a day's failure, must have agreed with them heartily. At +least, she did not decline his invitation when the kindly old gentleman +drove up behind her and urged her to share his seat in the carriage.</p> + +<p>"I am bringing him some evidence now," said Emily in answer to the +marshal's first question, after he had settled her according to his +liberal ideas of comfort and clucked his horse to a gentle trot.</p> + +<p>"Evidence—no need of evidence, miss. If Shagarach has your case, that +will be prima-facie evidence in itself of your sweetheart's innocence."</p> + +<p>"He is a wonderful man. But do people like him?"</p> + +<p>"Like him? Well, 'like' is a medium word, you see, used for medium +people. He's a good deal of a sphinx to us all, my dear. But aren't you +a brave girl to be tramping the streets for your sweetheart? Don't mind +being called sweethearts, I hope? That was the old-country word when I +courted Elizabeth. But I believe young folks now call it fiancee, +inamorata—French words and Italian, as though they were ashamed to +speak it out in good old English."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we prefer sweethearts a hundred times. But I see Mr. Shagarach's +sign."</p> + +<p>The marshal handed her out with old-fashioned gallantry, threw his +horse's head-weight on the curbstone and accompanied her upstairs. +Neither Aronson, nor Jacob, the office boy, answered his knock, but a +throaty falsetto, somewhat the worse for wear, was intoning an +evangelical hymn within. Strange quavers ad libitum and a constant +beating of the foot, occasionally heightened to a break-down stamp, +intermingled with the air. It was only by giving a rap with his whole +clenched hand that the marshal was able to arouse the attention of this +musical inmate.</p> + +<p>"Evenin', Mr. Davidson. Keepin' house, you see."</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Jupiter." Then to Emily: "This is Pineapple Jupiter."</p> + +<p>"Cullud gospel-preacher, missus. Belong to the mission upstairs. Buy a +mission paper, missus?"</p> + +<p>His complexion was as black as a coal shovel, but everything artificial +about him made the antithesis of the swan to the raven. His suit was of +bleached linen, his shirt bosom, choker and spotless cravat, all the +color of snow. Even his wool was wintry and the rolling eyes and +brilliant teeth gave his ensemble the effect of a pen-and-ink sketch, or +one of those black-and-white grotesques that recently captured a passing +vogue.</p> + +<p>"When will Shagarach return?" asked Davidson, but a light step on the +stairs, which Emily knew to be his, rendered an answer needless. The +lawyer bowed with his usual stateliness and ushered them in.</p> + +<p>"Remain outside till Jacob comes, Jupiter," he said. The negro salaamed +deferentially.</p> + +<p>"As a result of today's inquiries," Shagarach folded his arms, "two +desirable witnesses are missing. The peddler, as I surmised, is not a +peddler; and the incendiary, who could assist us materially in our +researches, still remains in the Arnold mansion."</p> + +<p>Emily's face was puzzled at this enigmatic opening.</p> + +<p>"That is to say, he was not seen by any one coming out. I believe, +however, that he succeeded in getting away unobserved, as I think I had +the pleasure of meeting him this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"The incendiary?" cried Emily, and the marshal echoed her.</p> + +<p>"At the county jail."</p> + +<p>Emily's heart fluttered. Had Shagarach become a convert to the belief in +Robert's guilt? And if so?</p> + +<p>"You know Harry Arnold?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I have never met him." She colored a little, for she was not descended +from the Brewsters of Lynn. "But it seems to me your argument against +him is inferential, Mr. Shagarach." Twenty times she had gone over it on +her pillow the night before.</p> + +<p>"Were the a priori case against Mr. Floyd as strong, you would have more +reason than you have to be apprehensive, Miss Barlow," said Shagarach, +in that ringing tone of his, from which all the sap of emotion seemed +purposely wrung out, leaving only a residuum of dry logic.</p> + +<p>Immediately he began writing a letter, as if to terminate the interview, +and John Davidson reached for his hat, casting a glance down at his +carriage in the street. Then with an effort Emily unburdened herself of +the portentous message which she had come to deliver.</p> + +<p>"I have done my best," she said. "But Bertha Lund is not to be found."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>A KISS IN THE DARK.</h3> + + +<p>Bertha Lund's aunt, Mrs. Christenson, kept a boarding house for Swedes, +on a street near the water front. By virtue of an intelligence-office +license she was also empowered to obtain places in domestic service for +newly imported Frederikas and Katherinkas. But the Swedish housemaid is +one of those rare commodities in which the demand exceeds the supply. So +there had been no crowded gallery of sodden faces around the +waiting-room when Emily called Thursday morning before going to work, +but only two or three laughing maidens who chatted with the boarders. +All had the bloom of a winter apple in their cheeks and their blue eyes +sparkled with reflections of the sea. Mrs. Christenson was making terms +with a lady in an inner room.</p> + +<p>"You wish for a servant?" she said, coming forward pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"My business is with Miss Bertha Lund, your niece. I believe she is +lodging here."</p> + +<p>"My niece is gone," answered the landlady, unceremoniously turning her +back and shutting the door with that emphasis which is feminine for +profanity. Then her voice was heard, pitched a little higher, as she +interpreted the silvery Swedish of the girl within, for the benefit of +her future mistress.</p> + +<p>"Something must be wrong," thought Emily. But there was nothing for her +to do but retreat, somewhat hurt and a great deal troubled. She had +reached the head of the stairs when one of the domestics in the +waiting-room came forward sympathetically and in her pretty, broken +English explained Mrs. Christenson's conduct. Bertha, it seems, had not +returned home since the night of the trial. Search had been made for +her, but without result. From what the girl said, though this was put +guardedly and in an almost inaudible whisper, Emily inferred that +Bertha, who was naturally quick-tempered, had chafed under her aunt's +imperious discipline and had probably gone to board with some friend, +registering herself for employment meanwhile in one of the other +intelligence offices. Once before she had manifested the same impatience +of restraint and had disappeared into the country for an entire summer.</p> + +<p>It was still possible, even probable, that she could be found if search +were instituted at once. Bertha had only a day's start of her pursuer, +and it was not likely that she had secured a situation to her taste so +soon. Emily formed the heroic resolve to scour the intelligence offices +herself. Finding the list in the directory incomplete, she boldly +visited police headquarters, from which licenses are issued, and copied +the name and address of every keeper in the city.</p> + +<p>With a letter from one of the police commissioners and a minute +description of Bertha at her tongue's end, Emily had passed from office +to office, braving discourtesy and even insult. As this was the busy +season her truancy from the studio would have to be made up by lamplight +work, which meant ache to her weary eyes, and the unwonted climbing of +stairs and trudging about for hours soon exhausted her small stock of +strength. But Emily was less concerned over her personal sacrifice than +over the failure of her inquiries. By 4 o'clock her task was still +uncompleted. The rounds of the offices had not been half-made. Still no +Bertha could be found, no girl answering her description or dressed as +Bertha had been dressed at the trial having applied for work on the +previous day. With a cloud of despondency forming over her heart, only +lightened by a dim hope of consolation from Shagarach, she had turned +her steps in the direction of his office when John Davidson overtook +her.</p> + +<p>"Not to be found!" echoed the marshal.</p> + +<p>"When was she seen last?" inquired Shagarach, calmly.</p> + +<p>"The evening of the trial," answered Emily. "She hasn't returned to her +aunt's, where she was lodging, since then."</p> + +<p>"Why, I saw the girl talking with McCausland," said Davidson.</p> + +<p>"When?" asked the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"Tuesday evening. Everybody else had gone and Miss Barlow and I were +alone in the ante-chamber. McCausland put his head in, as if he wanted +the room, and I noticed two women behind him. One was the housemaid and +the other was——"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"True enough. 'Twa'nt no need to tell you, was it?"</p> + +<p>The marshal's eyes grew big with admiration.</p> + +<p>"Merely a guess. Bertha Lund is a government witness, and McCausland has +a habit of keeping his witnesses under cover, especially when they are +poor and he is fighting wealth or influence. However, we have a right to +know all Bertha knows. Could you find out if she is living with the +Arnolds?" he said, turning to Emily.</p> + +<p>"They are out of town, but I'll make inquiries," answered the resolute +girl.</p> + +<p>"This may be of use." Shagarach handed her the note he had rapidly +written. It was unsealed and addressed to the warden of the state +prison. When the young girl was settled again to John Davidson's +satisfaction in the seat of his buggy, she opened the envelope and read +its contents aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My Dear Sir: The bearer, Miss Emily Barlow, is assigned to +important duties for the defense in the cause of Commonwealth vs. +Floyd. I shall esteem it a favor if you will grant her admission to +the defendant as my personal representative at all times when she +may apply to you. Respectfully yours,</p> + +<p class="right">"MEYER SHAGARACH,<br /> +"Counsel for the Accused."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Well, that was clever, wasn't it?" said old John Davidson, and for the +rest of the ride he entertained her with anecdotes of Shagarach's most +memorable victories, as well as other fascinating relations. For the +marshal, among his many virtues, was a famous traveler, being one of the +handful who can boast of having set foot in every state of our union. He +may not have been a marvel of detective cunning, as McCausland had +intimated, but Emily had forgotten all about her fatigue and was in an +agreeably hopeful frame of mind when he set her down before her house +door in the plain side street.</p> + +<p>That night Robert Floyd slept in a state prison cell. The atmosphere of +the place oppressed him. Everything, down to the very keys and padlocks, +was more massive than at the county jail. Led along a narrow corridor by +tenanted cells, whose inmates came to the bars and greeted him, or +crouched in the inmost recesses, he was reminded of a menagerie of +dangerous beasts. At the door of his own cell the revulsion had seized +him like an epileptic fit and he had wrenched himself loose from the +jailer. In an instant four vise-like hands were tightened on him and he +was flung bodily into the apartment. The iron door swung to with a clang +and he heard the jailer's footsteps receding.</p> + +<p>"Coo-ee! Ducky, don't ee like ee c'adle?"</p> + +<p>"He's a lifer, sure!"</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Johnnie. You'll never get out any more."</p> + +<p>"I move a resolution of sympathy for our newly elected associate. All in +favor, curse Longlegs!"</p> + +<p>There is a passage in Bach's "Passion" music where the infuriated Jews, +being offered the choice of pardon for Barabbas or the Savior, shriek +out the name of the robber. Robert remembered thinking that up to then +he had never heard anything more devilish than the roar of rage with +which the multitude express their preference for "Barabbas!" But the +chorus of curses from the convict pack that greeted the sobriquet of +"Longlegs" was like an uproar from still lower deeps, where spirits more +hideous than the deicides may be confined.</p> + +<p>This is not the normal temper of prisons, by any means. But the +Georgetown prison had been for months in a state of incipient mutiny and +the brewing storm was now threatening to break. Among the grounds of +complaint alleged against the present warden was his retention of the +obnoxious turnkey, "Longlegs," who was loathed as a "squealer," because +he could not be bought. It was further alleged that the men's tobacco +rations had been unjustly diminished one-half, such a thing as gratitude +for the allowance of this luxury at all not entering their minds. The +teams that carted goods from the workshops had recently been put in +charge of prison employes, and a useful means of communication with +outer friends thus cruelly cut off. In the eyes of the "solitaries" and +"hard-labor" men their bill of rights had been monstrously trampled +upon, and there was ample cause for the deposing of Warden Tapp and the +establishment of anarchy in the institution. Only the "lifers" were for +peace.</p> + +<p>"Half a plug is better than no smoke, boys," said John Bryant, who had +killed his wife, humorously. But he had served fourteen years already +and lived in hopes of a pardon some Thanksgiving day for his good +behavior.</p> + +<p>After exhibiting so clearly their position "against the government," +Robert's fellow-lodgers began to put inquiries to himself.</p> + +<p>"Say, freshy, what's your name?"</p> + +<p>Robert was too exasperated, too disgusted, to answer.</p> + +<p>"He's tongue-tied."</p> + +<p>"Wants his supper."</p> + +<p>"Look out for a spy, fellers. That ain't true blue."</p> + +<p>"Mum's the word."</p> + +<p>It was evident that Floyd's refusal to make free had branded him at once +with the stamp of unpopularity. But the young man had other thoughts to +occupy his mind. He was pondering upon his own terrible plight and upon +Shagarach's visit. Fully an hour must have passed in these reflections, +for it was very dark, when they were disturbed by a low remark from his +left-hand neighbor.</p> + +<p>"Say, chummy, I hain't one of these 'ere bloomin' mutineers."</p> + +<p>It was a wheezy voice and Floyd remembered to have heard at intervals +from that quarter one of those racking coughs which distress the +listener almost as much as the sufferer. The man seemed to be in the +rear of his cell and to have his mouth to the wall. Robert said nothing, +but his interest was languidly aroused.</p> + +<p>"Say, get into the hospital, Dobbs," remarked a voice that was beginning +to be familiar to Robert.</p> + +<p>"I 'ave been in the 'ospital, you unfeelin', bloomin' coves," replied +the asthmatic prisoner.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ee's Henglish, ee his," said some one, whereupon there was a faint +storm of laughter. Robert's sympathy was enlisted on the side of the man +called Dobbs. His uncle had been an Englishman and the national feeling +was strong in the nephew. Speaking as low as possible, so that the +others might not hear, he said to Dobbs:</p> + +<p>"You are an Englishman? This is bad company you've got into."</p> + +<p>"Lord, me boy, Hi know that—a scurvy job lot o' bloomin' ordinary coves +as I'd cut dead if Hi was a gentleman of fortune. But you see Hi +hain't. Being only Bill Dobbs, Hi can't afford to preach hinnocence, and +choose me hown 'ouse-mates, like a juke."</p> + +<p>The cough choked his utterance for awhile and evoked further +remonstrance from the yawning crew around him.</p> + +<p>"What is your sentence?" asked Robert.</p> + +<p>"Height years for burglary—if they can 'old me," and Bill Dobbs +chuckled knowingly, like one who had tested the fragility of prison +walls before. "W'ich, bein' a slippery fish, is a question Hi 'ave been +considerin' seriously."</p> + +<p>"Why did you leave England?" asked Robert.</p> + +<p>"The climate is gettin' so warm," answered the cockney. "W'y, the gulf +stream is comin' so near us there it would almost boil a turkey. +Hawfully bloomin' 'ot, you know, chummy. I'm a-winkin' at you."</p> + +<p>"Especially about Scotland Yard, I suppose. You're a professional +burglar?"</p> + +<p>"Not always, young man. Hi 'ad a Henglish mother once, w'ich I shall +never forget 'ow she 'eard my prayers. And hevery day Hi dressed myself +up in my blue blouse and breeches, and my dinner pail (w'ich wasn't +hempty) under my harm, and hevery bloomin' bobby I met says Hi to him, +says Hi: 'Hi'm Martin Thimblethorpe, from the west country, and can you +tell me w'ere's Regent row?' Blarst me if they wouldn't point their +fingers this way and that way and follow my departing footsteps with a +look of pride, as much as to say: 'There goes a honest Hinglish +workingman; see 'is hindependent hair."</p> + +<p>"But you never worked very hard, I fancy, with your blouse and your +dinner-pail?"</p> + +<p>"'Ard? Hi fancy Hi did."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?"</p> + +<p>"Jeweler's 'elp."</p> + +<p>"That is, you sold your plunder to a fence?"</p> + +<p>"Fence? Wot fence? Hi 'ad an accommodatin' friend in the business, who +asked no impertinent questions and paid me 'alf price for my +contributions—w'ich was bloomin' low figures, considering Hi never +accepted hanything cheap. If there's one class Hi 'ate, positively 'ate, +young man, it's them bloomin' shoddy gaffers wot sport a genteel +reputation on plated spoons and paste."</p> + +<p>"You always discriminated against such people?"</p> + +<p>"Halways! Ho, it used to do my 'eart good," continued Dobbs, chuckling +at the reminiscence, "w'en they wrote up one of my nocturnal visits (Hi +halways make my collections in the quiet hours of the hevenin') as 'ow +the leavin' of the plated ware and the abandonin' of a temptin' case of +hartificial diamonds shows the 'and of the solitary cracksman. There's +appreciation, Hi used to say! There's fame! You 'it it 'appily, young +man. Hi always discriminated."</p> + +<p>"Martin Thimblethorpe, then, was the solitary cracksman, and your real +name is Dobbs?"</p> + +<p>"Bill Dobbs. Wot's your line, chummy? Fashionable embezzlement? Hi +admire that line. It's genteel and the perquisites is liberal +accordingly."</p> + +<p>Floyd was getting interested in spite of himself. These first-hand +experiences of a professional burglar were life, and in spite of the +fellow's utter villainy and vulgarity (he could almost see his cunning +leer through the walls) they had a spice of romance that held him. But +their colloquy was interrupted just here by a sound of footsteps and the +approach of a light, which set the whole ward raving again.</p> + +<p>"Shut up your screeching," came a voice of command, at which the +mutinous crew subsided, and Robert heard apologetic remarks.</p> + +<p>"It's Gradger."</p> + +<p>"It isn't Longlegs."</p> + +<p>"We thought it was Longlegs."</p> + +<p>Gradger, for some reason, was a favorite with the men. He went straight +to Floyd's cell and pointed him out to Emily Barlow.</p> + +<p>"Emily!"</p> + +<p>"Robert!"</p> + +<p>That was all they could say for awhile.</p> + +<p>"My darling," cried Robert, who was the first to recover command of +himself. He was indignant to think that she, too, should be forced into +these surroundings. "Why have you come here?"</p> + +<p>"Only to be with you for a few moments, Robert. I thought of you all +friendless and lonesome."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, dear. But you must not remain. Go away quickly and do +not come here again."</p> + +<p>It was the old, natural instinct to screen the purer half of our race +from degrading contact with things we ourselves must meet.</p> + +<p>"But why should I not visit you, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"Because this is hell and you are an angel."</p> + +<p>He drew her to him and kissed her through the bars. Instantly the sound +was re-echoed a hundred times, distorted and vulgarized, throughout the +ward. In the silence which followed Emily's first words, the sweethearts +had forgotten their audience of thieves and cutthroats, to whom every +syllable was audible. Hierarchs of sin, virtuosos in infamy, all the +demon in their souls seemed roused by this innocent pledge of mutual +faith between youth and maiden, and even the stern threats of Gradger +could not silence their outbreak of hideous derision.</p> + +<p>Emily started back as red as fire.</p> + +<p>"Go, darling," cried Robert, between his set teeth, while shouts of "Ta, +ta, Robert," "Kiss me, Emily," intermingled with the foul ribaldry +generated in minds shut away from all purifying touch of womanhood, +taunted the fleeing girl and roused her imprisoned lover's passion to +frenzy. He could have strangled three of them single-handed.</p> + +<p>"Better call daytimes, miss, when the men are working in the shops," +said Gradger. He had not taken Emily for a girl who herself had to work +daytimes in a shop.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the storm raged louder and louder, and several turnkeys were +called to quell the disturbance and carry the ringleaders away to the +"block." But the more it volleyed around him the cooler grew young +Floyd. His resentment gradually hardened to a kind of pitying scorn, and +when the last oath died away it was with sweeter thoughts that he had +indulged for three bitter nights that he laid his head on the pallet and +drowsed into oblivion. His pillow lay close to the point of the wall +where Dobbs liked to do his talking, and while the midnight bell was +ringing he thought he heard the cracksman whisper:</p> + +<p>"The young lady stretched it, chummy. You 'ave one friend 'ere. Let 'em +screech their bloomin' lungs off."</p> + +<p>But this may have been a dream.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>SIMPLE SIMON.</h3> + + +<p>"The appointment you heard them make. I missed the rendezvous."</p> + +<p>"Harry Arnold said Wednesday was his locky day——"</p> + +<p>"Lucky day," corrected Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"His lucky day," said Aronson, "and if the old lady put up he would +break the bank."</p> + +<p>"That I understand. A gambling tryst. The old lady is his mother. Put up +means to pay his money. But the place—what was the name of the place?"</p> + +<p>"When they left each other Arnold said: 'Wednesday at the Tough-Coat,' +and Kennedy said: 'All right, Harry.'"</p> + +<p>"Repeat that word."</p> + +<p>"Tough-Coat."</p> + +<p>"Repeat it again."</p> + +<p>"Tough-Coat."</p> + +<p>Still Shagarach looked nonplused. The syllables conveyed no meaning +whatever. Yet Aronson felt sure of the substantial accuracy of his +version.</p> + +<p>"Very well." The lawyer dismissed the subject, sent Aronson off on +irrelevant business and gave a few hours of attention to his other +clients. The law's delay had not infected Shagarach. Whatever the matter +he undertook, he was punctual as the clock in its performances, though +not, in the ordinary sense of the word, a methodical man.</p> + +<p>Early in the afternoon an unlooked-for visitor took his place among +those waiting in the outer room. Jacob hastened to give him the chair of +precedence, and announced his name to Shagarach, then in closet +conference with an honest-appearing bookkeeper, whose acquittal on a +charge of forgery he had just procured.</p> + +<p>"I will see Mr. Rabofsky next," said the lawyer to Jacob.</p> + +<p>The man so called was a short, bulky Hebrew, of 60-odd winters (one +would prefer reckoning his years by the more rigorous season). His nose +was like an owl's beak and his beard spread itself luxuriantly over his +face, plainly undefiled of the scissors. The hair was indeterminately +reddish and gray and his eyes were the color of steel. Shagarach bowed +him into his private room, the caller strutting like one accustomed to +homage.</p> + +<p>Although the door was closed behind him as usual, Rabofsky glanced +suspiciously around and spoke in the Hebrew jargon—that grafting of +foreign idioms on a German patois which his tribe has carried all over +eastern Europe, and latterly, via Hamburg, into the cities of America.</p> + +<p>"It is a long time since we have met, kinsman Shagarach," he said.</p> + +<p>"A long time since I have had that honor," replied the lawyer, bowing +with the Hebrew's respect for age.</p> + +<p>"Not since your respected father's funeral, I believe. He was one of my +friends, whose memory always remains to uplift me—a glory to our race +and religion."</p> + +<p>"My respected father's friends are my friends to the end of my days."</p> + +<p>Shagarach's father had been a rabbin or expounder of the sacred books. +Great was the scandal when Rabbi Moses' son abandoned daily attendance +at the synagogue and gave himself over to the ways, though not to the +society, of the gentiles. His mother, with whom he lived, still kept up +the observances of the law, baking the unleavened bread at the paschal +season and purchasing the flesh only of the lawfully butchered ox. Her +son neither praised nor blamed, but she knew he was no longer of +Israel's sects; not even of the mystical Essenes, among whom his father +might be counted, and whose study is the unpronounceable name of God. +Others of his people who lacked a mother's indulgence knew this, and it +was rarely that one of the orthodox children of Israel brought his +worldly troubles to Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Your health is strong under Jehovah, I trust," continued Simon +Rabofsky.</p> + +<p>"Have you come to inquire about my health?" asked Shagarach. The old +man's prelude, beginning so fitfully and far away, threatened to prolong +itself interminably.</p> + +<p>"Nay, a small affair of consultation which it shall be richly worth your +while to advise upon," answered the other, craftily.</p> + +<p>"State the facts with brevity and clearness."</p> + +<p>"Speedily, kinsman Shagarach, speedily." Again he looked cautiously +around. "You are aware that out of the savings of my days of hard labor +I occasionally permit the use of small sums to my friends."</p> + +<p>"You are a money-lender? That I know. One of my clients desires a loan +of you. Which is it?"</p> + +<p>"Not one of your clients, kinsman Shagarach."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold."</p> + +<p>Not a muscle of Shagarach's well-schooled countenance quivered, though +the old Jew's eyes almost pierced him as he uttered the name. Opposite +as the two men were in every trait, a substratum of affinity came out in +this deadlock of their glances. On both sides the same set lip, the same +immobile forehead, trained by centuries of traffic to conceal the +fermentation of the powerful brain within.</p> + +<p>"I am not acquainted with the lady," said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"But you are acquainted with her estate under the will of her +brother-in-law."</p> + +<p>Thoroughly aroused now to his subject, Rabofsky had abandoned his +roundabout manner and pushed his words rapidly forth in an indistinct +growl.</p> + +<p>"Slightly so. State the facts."</p> + +<p>"I will. Yesterday there came to my office a lady, all veiled, and asked +me for $10,000. 'That is a large sum,' said I. 'You have it,' said she, +'and I want it. I will pay for it.' 'Yes, indeed, you shall pay for it,' +I said to myself, but aloud I only asked her: 'What security could you +give me if I should go about among my friends and trouble them and +trouble myself for your service?' 'The security of my name,' she +answered, proudly, like a queen commanding her scullion. 'I am Mrs. +Arnold, widow of the banker, Henry Arnold, and a daughter of Ezra +Brewster of Lynn.' 'Oh, madam,' said I, 'I am Simon Rabofsky, husband of +Rebecca Rabofsky, and a son of the high priest Levi, who is twice +mentioned in the talmud; but I could not borrow $10,000 without pledging +something more substantial than my great ancestor's name.' Then she +sneered a little under her veil, the proud unbeliever, and took out her +rubies and diamonds and watch—a glittering heap. 'Keep these until I +return you the money,' she said. 'This is not enough,' said I, examining +the stones. 'Have you nothing more?' 'My son's interest in the estate of +the late Prof. Arnold will cover your paltry loan 500 times over.' 'I +will reflect upon the subject,' said I. 'Call again in two days.' So I +came to consult kinsman Shagarach."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Has her son any interest in Prof. Arnold's estate?"</p> + +<p>The question had come point-blank at last and Shagarach found himself +less prepared to answer it than he could have wished.</p> + +<p>The Arnolds were financially embarrassed, possibly ruined, by Harry's +infatuation for the gaming-table. This was to be inferred from the +conversation with Kennedy over-heard by Aronson. Their real estate must +be mortgaged to the limit, perhaps beyond its shrunken value, or Mrs. +Arnold would not be begging a loan at a money-lender's shop. Family +jewels were invariably the last resort of declining fortunes unwilling +to abandon cherished appearances. Should he advise the loan and let +Harry cast it away, as he seemed likely to do, in his ambition to "break +the bank?" Such a step might place the young man in his power.</p> + +<p>For the standing of the will was still uncertain. Evidence might be in +existence sufficient to uphold the destroyed document. In that event +Mrs. Arnold's promissory note to Rabofsky would be worth no more than +the value of the securities he held. Robert's statement was positive +that Harry was disinherited. This opened up a new view to Shagarach.</p> + +<p>It would be fatal to the interests of Floyd if the will should be +ignored and half the estate allowed him as heir-at-law. Such a parade of +the profits of the incendiary's crime could not fail to rearouse a burst +of public indignation which would work its way into the jury-box. +Shagarach determined then and there to strive for the upholding of the +will, though it should mean the ruin of the Arnold fortune and the loss +to Robert Floyd of $5,000,000.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," he answered. Something was due to Rabofsky.</p> + +<p>"You have waited a long time. You have been thinking. What do you +think?"</p> + +<p>"It is a difficult part of a difficult problem. My advice——"</p> + +<p>"You will not charge your respected father's friend unreasonably?" put +in the Jew.</p> + +<p>Shagarach knew that Rabofsky was a pharisee of the strictest sect and +had not been his father's friend. He knew also that reasonableness of +charge was not one of his own eccentricities, and probably would not be +exemplified in the loan to Mrs. Arnold. But he replied:</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I shall consider that when the work is done."</p> + +<p>"Now, kinsman Shagarach."</p> + +<p>"Not now. I cannot foresee the amount of labor, the number of +consultations, involved," said Shagarach, resolutely. "Do you wish my +advice?"</p> + +<p>"I shall not pay the charge if it is unreasonable," growled Rabofsky.</p> + +<p>"For the present I advise you to lend only what you can with safety on +the pledges. I will see Mrs. Arnold about the estate and confer with you +further after our interview."</p> + +<p>At that moment Aronson opened the door, his eyes dancing with +excitement. He panted, as if he had just run upstairs.</p> + +<p>"Meester Shagarach," he broke in, but stood awed in the presence of +Rabofsky, who was a potent man in the Ghetto.</p> + +<p>"Escort Mr. Rabofsky to the stairs," said Shagarach, approaching +Aronson, so that the latter might have an opportunity to whisper his +message. He was none too soon, for a young man had already entered the +door of the outer room.</p> + +<p>"Kennedy," whispered Aronson.</p> + +<p>It was Harry Arnold's friend.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>BROWBEATING EXTRAORDINARY.</h3> + + +<p>"Will you take in my card? I'm in a deuce of a rush," said Kennedy to +Aronson when the latter had dismissed Simon Rabofsky. Shagarach read his +name, daintily engraved in the form to which the weather-vane of fashion +had at that moment veered and was imperatively pointing. It introduced +"Mr. Arthur K. Foxhall."</p> + +<p>"I will see the gentleman in a few minutes," said he. Shagarach must +have transacted an almost incredible amount of business in the interim, +for his waiting-room was cleared of clients when "Mr. Arthur K. Foxhall" +was at length admitted.</p> + +<p>"I received this communication from you. My lawyer informs me that it +contains matter defamatory per se." He tossed a letter down on the table +at which Shagarach was sitting, with his arms folded as usual. "But +before taking action on the matter I thought I would give you an +opportunity to explain."</p> + +<p>"The note is in English, is it not?" said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"It might pass for such," replied young man supercilious.</p> + +<p>"Then it needs no further explanation. The sooner you and your lawyer +begin your action the better pleased I shall be." Shagarach began +writing a letter coolly, as if the matter were at an end, but his +visitor, either in nervousness or anger, tapped the polished tip of his +shoe with his cane. It was certainly a most aggressive-looking weapon, +with its knob carved into a scowling bulldog's head.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen"—he emphasized the word—"men of honor," he paused again, +"do not use language of others which they cannot defend, either before +the courts of law or by giving personal satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen and men of honor do not fabricate lies after taking a solemn +oath to tell nothing but the truth," answered Shagarach, without +glancing up from the note he was scribbling.</p> + +<p>"The third person protects you. You use the coward's refuge, innuendo, +because you dare not address the charge to me directly."</p> + +<p>Shagarach picked up his letter, which the visitor had thrown down.</p> + +<p>"I have taken particular pains to be direct as well as explicit over my +own signature. I find that I have accused you, Arthur Kennedy Foxhall," +he emphasized the middle name, though it was only initialed in the +address, "of deliberate perjury in the case of Commonwealth vs. Bail. My +letters do not as a rule require marginal annotations or parol addition +to make their meaning clear, and I am credited with sufficient prudence +to foresee their consequences before writing them."</p> + +<p>Shagarach folded his arms again and his great eyes pierced Foxhall—or +Kennedy as he was generally called. It was the family name of a rich +relative who had adopted and supported him.</p> + +<p>"No," he added, slowly, "this is hardly a case for prosecution or for +personal satisfaction. The duello is out of date."</p> + +<p>"My valet might object to the opponent I assigned him," said the +self-styled gentleman and man of honor. Shagarach's retort was swift, +yet uttered without the twitch of an eyelash, as though he were simply +recalling his visitor to the original business.</p> + +<p>"His master lied in order to prove an alibi for Charles Munroe——"</p> + +<p>Kennedy's chalky face flushed faintly.</p> + +<p>"If the sword is out of fashion the cane is not," he cried, lifting his +formidable bulldog.</p> + +<p>"The principal witness against my client in the Bail case," continued +Shagarach, raising his voice and controlling Kennedy with his eyes, "and +himself the beneficiary of the check which my client was accused of +forging."</p> + +<p>"You got him off. That was enough. Are you trying to blackmail us for a +heavier fee?"</p> + +<p>"The case was a conspiracy instigated by Charles Munroe and abetted by +his friends, among whom Arthur Kennedy Foxhall was the most conspicuous +for his zeal."</p> + +<p>"You scum of a shyster! Do you think you can jew me into a dicker?"</p> + +<p>Shagarach arose and walked to the window. He was not an equestrian, but +natural perception taught him the useful rule to turn his horse's head +when he starts to run away. Facing suddenly about, he said:</p> + +<p>"I am a Jew, true. Perhaps that is why I do not poison myself with +opium."</p> + +<p>The young man's cheek grew pale again. The cane dropped and he sunk in +his chair.</p> + +<p>"Am I to be prosecuted for that also?" The anger in his tones had +flickered away to a feeble peevishness. "How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Because you are wearing a light overcoat with the mercury at 80," +answered Shagarach, who had glanced at the thermometer in his window. +"Because you have the glazed eye of a man in fever, and because you lie +like an oriental!"</p> + +<p>This time Kennedy made no protest against the insult. He was succumbing +to the strain placed upon his shattered nerves by the remorseless man +across the table.</p> + +<p>"There is your cause of action," said Shagarach, tossing back his +letter. Again he dipped his pen in the ink preparing to write.</p> + +<p>"What do you want of me?" asked Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Shagarach had half-filled the sheet. He was stamping the +envelope when the next question slowly came.</p> + +<p>"Why do you follow up the matter? Your client is safe?"</p> + +<p>"But the community is no longer safe when perjurers strut about, +masquerading as the sole guardians of honor."</p> + +<p>He folded his arms once more and looked straight at his man. In another +the gesture might seen theatrical, but it was Shagarach's natural +attitude in thought, like the bowed head and lowered eyes of the +philosopher burrowing into the depths of things, or the uplifted gaze of +the poet leaving earth for the stars and sunset. The lawyer's interests +lay in the horizontal plane, and the faces of fellow-men were his study.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am reputed inexorable to perjurers. It is true. They rarely +escape me unpunished. As a consequence, witnesses prefer to tell me the +truth, which is an advantage to my clients, of whose interests I am the +devoted servitor."</p> + +<p>"And you will ruin me to gratify this—this——"</p> + +<p>"I will procure your indictment for perjury and conspiracy in the case +of Commonwealth vs. Bail."</p> + +<p>Kennedy trembled like one with an ague. But stronger men than he had +yielded as abjectly to Shagarach. He was a blood of high standing, with +a fortune as well as a reputation to lose. The chances of a felon's +succeeding to the property of old Angus Kennedy, the millionaire, who +had adopted him, were relatively slight.</p> + +<p>"What is the penalty for perjury?" he asked, in a random way, as if at a +loss what to say or do.</p> + +<p>"Imprisonment at hard labor."</p> + +<p>"It is not punishable by fine?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, broken only by the rustling of Aronson's papers in +the outer room. Then Shagarach spoke.</p> + +<p>"You have an appointment with Harry Arnold for next Wednesday evening."</p> + +<p>Kennedy started up. His smooth face grew cadaverous and the helpless +look of a kneeling suppliant came into his eyes, which were riveted on +the great, wide orbs of his tormentor.</p> + +<p>"At a gambling resort," continued Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"I am not a gambler," Kennedy's voice was hollow, his expression +piteous. Shagarach studied him a moment. Probably he was speaking the +truth. The evil passions are jealous and absolute monarchs. Seldom does +more than one of them reign at a time.</p> + +<p>"But Harry Arnold is."</p> + +<p>"Harry is plunging heavily."</p> + +<p>Shagarach was satisfied at last. An adequate motive for Harry's deed was +clearly in view. It was not the most heinous crime which had been +committed to gratify the gamester's passion.</p> + +<p>"I wish to be with you on that occasion."</p> + +<p>"It will be hard," answered Kennedy, his face clouded with consternation +and a torrid flush of something like shame sweeping over it. "The +Dove-Cote is too well guarded."</p> + +<p>"The Dove-Cote!" Shagarach was betrayed into an ejaculation of surprise. +This was the "Tough-Coat" which Aronson's imperfect articulation had +disguised.</p> + +<p>"It may be hard, but it is not impossible."</p> + +<p>"Not impossible, no."</p> + +<p>"Well-known men are seen there at times?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>Kennedy smiles.</p> + +<p>"And your escape from prison depends upon my obtaining entrance."</p> + +<p>The smile had faded away.</p> + +<p>"Why do you wish to be there?"</p> + +<p>"My reasons are my own. However, I will make a limited confidant of you. +I am at work upon a cause which logical study does not perfectly +elucidate. That frequently happens. I must see my man off his guard, +when he is most himself. My visit to the Dove-Cote will be a +psychological study."</p> + +<p>"They will compel me to vouch for your good faith."</p> + +<p>"You may do so. Nothing seen or heard by me there will ever be revealed. +I go, as I have told you, to study a soul, not to gather facts. The +facts are already mine."</p> + +<p>"Where shall I call for you?"</p> + +<p>"Here."</p> + +<p>"At 8 o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"Very well. There is one condition attached to our bargain. You shall +not reveal this appointment to Harry Arnold."</p> + +<p>"He will be there——"</p> + +<p>"But he does not know me. We probably shall not meet. Other—gentlemen, +as you call them—will be there."</p> + +<p>"Miss Barlow," said Aronson, at this moment opening the door.</p> + +<p>Kennedy had arisen to go, but turned curiously when he heard the sweet +voice from without.</p> + +<p>"Only a moment, Mr. Shagarach."</p> + +<p>The lawyer stepped out and conferred with her. She had run down in her +lunch hour, full of a new project which she burned to carry out, but +like everything else, she had thought it best first to submit it to +Shagarach. His approval was given coolly, she thought.</p> + +<p>"Some one of the park policemen may have seen him."</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"If not, how can you explain those four hours of forgetfulness—I mean, +of course, to the satisfaction of a jury?"</p> + +<p>"It is not unprecedented. I have an explanation, or the germ of one. +However, pursue your inquiries. They may prove of value. And, when you +visit Floyd, occasionally wear a water lily."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It was the flower he brought you that evening."</p> + +<p>Emily caught the impertinent stare of the manikin within just as she was +turning to leave.</p> + +<p>"Understand, Kennedy," said Shagarach, "if Arnold is informed of this +agreement, directly or indirectly, our contract is broken and I will +spare no pains to lodge you where you belong."</p> + +<p>His tone made the weakling shudder.</p> + +<p>"Why do you desire to conceal it from Harry?" he asked, obstinately.</p> + +<p>"Draw what inference you choose."</p> + +<p>Shagarach returned to his desk and Emily was uneasily aware that the +youth whom she had seen in his office passed her twice in the crowd +while she was making her way back to the studio. But Arthur Kennedy +Foxhall was too perturbed that day to practice with success even the +easy arts of the professional lady-killer. His pursuit of Emily only +registered on his memory a face which was to haunt him in his drug-fed +dreams.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>GNAWING OF THE RAT'S TOOTH.</h3> + + +<p>"Hello, Bobbs," called the solitary cracksman. "Put your hear to the +chink and let's 'ave a palaver."</p> + +<p>The "chink" was that hollow spot in the rear of the cell, where by +pressing his ear against the wall Floyd could hear communications from +Dobbs, inaudible to the rest of the prisoners.</p> + +<p>Robert wondered not a little at the persistent friendliness of the +fellow. He felt conscious of lacking the touch of comradeship. He might +even be called ascetic, were not the stigma precluded by his passion for +music and his love of landscape. Long botanical tramps with his uncle +had given him an acute feeling for the moods of nature, and in his +violin playing a deep sensibility found outlet through the practiced and +sensitive fingertips. But in general he had little palate for the +bouquet and effervescence of life, and was credited, therefore, with +less readiness of sympathy than his cousin, who responded quickly to +all fleeting impressions of pleasure.</p> + +<p>While Harry, as adjutant of his crack cadets, was seen prancing on +parade in all the bravery of gold lace, his sword hilt resting on his +saddle, his mustaches twisted to the curl of an ostrich feather, a +masterpiece of poise and splendor, Robert would be found in dun +civilian's garb, shoulder to shoulder with the multitude on the +sidewalk, studying the significance of the pageant. This strenuousness +acted as a bar to popularity. Harry could count twenty friends to +Robert's one. People called him by his given name at the second or third +meeting. Women, in particular, circled about him like moths about a +taper. But Floyd, who shunned no man's eye, sought no woman's. This may +have been why the one girl to whom he had given his heart believed his +nature to be of sterling gold.</p> + +<p>There was much in the prison life to quicken the thoughts of so serious +an observer, but all his attempts to record the impressions had ended in +failure. He soon realized that no man can at once live and write. Our +deeper experiences need to be mellowed by distance, just as we must back +away to a certain focus before we can feel the sentiment of a painting. +There was nothing left but to bide his time as patiently as possible, +occasionally beguiling the long hours by conversation with Dobbs.</p> + +<p>This scoundrel had an unctuous manner which was hard to resist. His +quaint, infectious chuckle and preeminence in crime made him a favorite +among the inmates of the ward—a popularity which he generously used to +secure for Robert a certain immunity from insult. The young man could +not help feeling grateful for this. Besides, the man's incurable asthma, +which he attributed himself to "hexposure to cold night blarsts in the +performance of perfessional duties," entitled him to sympathy. Indeed, +he was often removed to the hospital for days at a time. During these +intervals Robert remarked the cessation of a curious grating noise which +seemed to come from his neighbor's cell.</p> + +<p>"Blood's thicker than water, Bobbs. You and Hi are Henglish, you know. +These 'ere bloomin' coves get red-'eaded over nothing. Don't catch me +mutineerin' and violatin' the rules. Ho, no."</p> + +<p>This was true. So far as outward behavior went, Dobbs was an exemplary +prisoner.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Dobbs, my name is Floyd," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"Ho, you don't mind bein' called Bobbs, chummy. That's cute for Robert. +Hi found out your name. We hall know wot you're jugged for. It's harson, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"'Ow did you set it?"</p> + +<p>"I am as innocent of the charge as you are." Robert's tone was curt. He +felt vexed to be the subject of discussion among this crew.</p> + +<p>"That's just wot I told the judge, chummy, w'en ee politely hasked me if +Hi 'ad anything to say. But it didn't work, chummy. Hi'm a-winkin' at +you, Bobbs."</p> + +<p>The invisible wink probably expressed incredulity, but Robert did not +care to debate his own case with his neighbor.</p> + +<p>"Hi knows it's a delicate matter, and some folks Hi wouldn't trust, +neither. But Dobbs is your friend, Bobbs, and ready to prove ee's true +blue. Do you know I like the sound o' them two names. Dobbs and Bobbs. +Suppose we go into business together.</p> + +<p class="center">"DOBBS AND BOBBS<br /> +"ROBS FOBS.</p> + +<p>"'Ow's that for a partnership sign?"</p> + +<p>Dobbs exploded in a paroxysm of laughter and coughing over his own +cleverness as a rhymester. The fit was continued so long that his +neighbors began to protest in their ungentle fashion.</p> + +<p>"Say, Dobbs, get into your coffin, quick," cried one. The same whose +voice sounded familiar to Robert though he was unable to place it. It +was a thick, uncouth utterance, as though the speaker's natural brogue +were assisted by the presence of a ball of yarn.</p> + +<p>"'Old your bloomin' breath for Longlegs," answered Dobbs.</p> + +<p>The passage of the hated turnkey caused a diversion in his favor. +Longlegs was a tall man of remarkably bony strength. The convicts were +only collectively brave against him. When not gathered in packs they +avoided his stern visage as a lone wolf slinks away from the hunter. His +right name was Hawkins, but almost nobody within these precincts escaped +a sobriquet. Warden Tapp was "the Pelican," Turnkey Gradger was "Gimp" +and a particularly vile denizen went under the name of "Parson." Dobbs +explained his own escape quaintly.</p> + +<p>"You see, chummy, Dobbs his a nickname halready. You can't forshorten it +no more."</p> + +<p>The visitor who accompanied Hawkins shared the unpopularity of his +escort.</p> + +<p>"Whoop, da, da, da!"</p> + +<p>"He's a yellow aster."</p> + +<p>"Lend me your monocle, Cholly, and don't be wude."</p> + +<p>But the tall, blond-bearded man with the monocle sauntered leisurely +along, looking into every cell until he reached the end of the corridor. +Then he turned back and stopped before Dobbs, while Hawkins clanked his +keys beside him.</p> + +<p>"If God writes a legible hand, that man's a villain," he quoted from the +old-time actor; "what name do you go by?"</p> + +<p>"Bill Dobbs."</p> + +<p>"Hand me out that pen and ink and I'll draw your picture."</p> + +<p>"W'ere?"</p> + +<p>"On your thumb nail. The right one. That's it."</p> + +<p>It seemed scarcely half a minute before Hawkins was heard exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"That's a stunning likeness."</p> + +<p>"Take away this 'ere lookin'-glass o' mine, Longlegs, and bestow it on +the poor. Wot use 'ave Hi for it w'en Hi carry my hown himage on the +hend of my bloomin' thumb?"</p> + +<p>"You've a face of great power and cunning," said the artist, "but +there's one thing you lack."</p> + +<p>"Wot's that?"</p> + +<p>"Reverence. Some day I'll use you for a mask of Iago that I've had in +mind."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Wot's your name, stranger?"</p> + +<p>"Tristram March." It was our artist friend, rummaging for types in this +out-of-the-way corner.</p> + +<p>"You've a sort of a soft lip about you and a delicate horgan of hodor. +But there's one thing you lack?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Starch. Hi'm a-thinkin' Hi'll copy my make-up after you next time Hi +play 'Amlet to the queen's Ophelia."</p> + +<p>Tristram's good-natured laugh was the last thing Robert heard as he +sauntered away.</p> + +<p>A sculptor, friends called him if pressed for a definition. Yet in truth +he had never yet executed a figure of life size, being a modern instance +of talent without ambition, dispersing and dividing its strength. He +modeled, painted, rhymed, composed—a many-faceted reflector of +impressions; but everything he did was done by halves and the most +finished of his products were only brilliant sketches. His sister +Rosalie's single gift, besides her beauty (which, to be sure, entered +into it as a primary element), came to her less by nature than by ardent +aspiration. But critics had compared her Rosalind to a perfect rose, +blown into a bulb of glass; and she was still a patient learner, +standing tiptoe on the vestibule of her art, with an untold future +before her.</p> + +<p>"'Ow did Hi begin?" said the cracksman, when the confusion had subsided.</p> + +<p>Robert was again at the chink, like some penitent whispering through a +grating to his father confessor. "Hi never began. Hi was born wicked. +Wicked Willie they called me w'en Hi wasn't old enough to toddle halone. +And 'ere's 'ow Hi earned it, Bobbs."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"You see, my mother, who was a hinnocent woman and a Christian, took me +out on 'er harms to see the lord mayor's procession, the lord mayor o' +Lunnon wot 'as all the wittles to eat, you know. And w'ile they was all +preoccupied admirin' 'is lordship's gold buttons, wot was Wicked Willie +a-doin' of but leanin' forward in 'is mamma's harms and pluckin' a +hear-ring w'ich ee liked, hout of a grand lady's hear. 'Ow!' says the +lady, w'en it 'urt; and Wicked Willie 'ad 'is 'ands slapped, w'ich Hi +say ee richly deserved, seein' as 'ow ee bungled the bloomin' job."</p> + +<p>"From the cradle up you were a thief," said Robert, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Ho, them bantam games don't count."</p> + +<p>"When did you first begin professionally?"</p> + +<p>"Do you count a gunniff a perfessional in this 'ere country?"</p> + +<p>"A gunniff? What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know wot a gunniff is, Bobbs? W'y. Hi'm amazed. Hi'll 'ave to +present chummy with a Century dictionary in sixteen volumes w'ich we'll +be hable to do w'en we get out of 'ere, w'ich won't be long. Hi'm +a-winkin.'"</p> + +<p>All the time that he spoke Robert heard a low scraping noise, softer +than the rasping he had noticed in the evenings. Apparently it was close +to his ear.</p> + +<p>"A gunniff is a juvenile institution peculiar to our bloomin' hold +Hengland."</p> + +<p>"Leave out some of your bloomings, won't you, especially about England."</p> + +<p>"W'y not, chummy? Ain't it in the dic? Is it a wulgar word?"</p> + +<p>Robert did not reply, but he thought how many words as sacred and +beautiful as this have been profaned to foul uses or cheapened to the +vapidity of a Frenchman's "Mon Dieu."</p> + +<p>"Hi beg your bloomin' pardon, Bobbs. If it's wulgar, Hi drop it, and +with your leave Hi'll resume my hinterrupted hautobiography."</p> + +<p>"You call yourself a gunniff?"</p> + +<p>"Gunniff in general, but more particularly Hi was a snatcher, w'ich +takes precedence of the mob by reason of the difficulty of 'is duties, +of the taker as well as of the blokie and the moke."</p> + +<p>"What's the English for blokie and moke?"</p> + +<p>"The Henglish? W'y, Hi'm amazed. Don't tell me you bilked 'em all so +'andily on settin' that 'ouse afire. Hi won't believe it of a chummy as +hasks me wot a blokie and a moke is."</p> + +<p>"I never heard the words before."</p> + +<p>"W'y, the mokes do the scrappin' wen the gent 'as been relieved of 'is +pocketbook, w'ich is too heavy for 'im to carry, by the willin' and +accommodatin' little snatcher, w'ich was me."</p> + +<p>"You began as a pickpocket?"</p> + +<p>"Pickpocket? Wot does that mean? Hi never 'eard that word. We were +hexpress boys. Is pickpocket the bloomin' Americanese for that? Hi'm +a-winkin' at you, Bobbs."</p> + +<p>This conclusion was invariably the prelude to a burst of laughter, which +was so droll and self-satisfied that it put Robert in good humor in +spite of everything.</p> + +<p>"Four of us, Bobbs, and that makes a mob. First we picked out our gent, +always a hold gent or a bloomin' swell, a-standin' in the crowd. Four of +us playin', rompin', friskin', about 'im, as hinnocent little fellows +will, bless 'em all, w'en, hall of a sudden, one bumps up against the +bloomin' gent's pocket not with 'is 'ands, you know? The bloomin' gent +might fancy ee was a hobject of hinterest to us if ee used 'is 'ands, +w'ich ee hisn't, ho, no! That's the blokie wot does the bumpin'. Ee +wears a thin shirt and a huncommonly hintelligent spine w'ich can feel a +'ard lump in a gent's pocket surprisin'."</p> + +<p>"The blokie ascertains where his purse is located?"</p> + +<p>"And the snatcher, w'ich was Wicked Willie, relieves 'im of it gently."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"'Ow? By makin' a hopportunity. There's nothin' in this world like +makin' a hopportunity for yourself, Bobbs. And if two little fellers get +a-scrappin' and jostle a hold gent hover, and a crowd comes and the hold +gent gets hinterested in separatin' the little fellers, and givin' them +a moral lecture, 'ow's ee a-goin' to know w'ere 'is valuables went, +unless ee reaches to present 'em with a 'alf-crown apiece, w'ich he +don't."</p> + +<p>"Is that common in London?"</p> + +<p>"Run into the ground, Bobbs, completely wulgarized. No self-respectin' +gent would bring up 'is bantams in that line nowadays. But hafterward, +w'en Hi was alightin' my 'Avana cigars with the old lady's ten-pun +notes, Hi always looked back on my rompin's with the mob as the +beginnin's, 'umble but 'onorable, of a great and useful career."</p> + +<p>During the talk it had seemed to Robert that the cracksman's voice was +coming nearer.</p> + +<p>"What's making that noise, Dobbs?"</p> + +<p>"Wot noise, chummy?"</p> + +<p>"That little scraping."</p> + +<p>"You can 'ear it?"</p> + +<p>"It's close to the chink."</p> + +<p>"That's a rat's tooth gnawin'. Hi'm a-winkin' at you, Bobbs."</p> + +<p>"Are you cutting into the wall?"</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, chummy. Dobbs 'as given hall the confidence so far, and +Bobbs 'as given none. 'Ow is Dobbs to know Bobbs is true blue?"</p> + +<p>This was a puzzler. Robert did not feel prepared to abet prison-breach +yet, if that was the cracksman's aim, though his own feeling toward the +authorities was anything but submissive.</p> + +<p>"Hi'm 'urt, Bobbs. Hi've a sensitive nature and a large bump of +curiosity, both of w'ich is offended by my chummy's lack of confidence +in me. But Hi'll prove Hi'm true blue, wotever Bobbs says. Chummies is +chummies and bobbies is bobbies, there's the distinction Hi draw. Do you +'ear the tooth?"</p> + +<p>The gnawing sound became louder at Robert's ear.</p> + +<p>"That's a hinstrument Hi hown w'ich Hi wouldn't show to the Pelican +'imself, but Bobbs shall see it and feel it if he likes."</p> + +<p>"Is it a file?"</p> + +<p>"A wery little file."</p> + +<p>"How did you smuggle it in?"</p> + +<p>"Just in a little plug o' smoke, Bobbs, w'ich a friend sent me for my +'ealth, w'ich is poor, as my bloomin' associates around me 'ere +frequently observe. Nobody'd look for a little rat's tooth laid +crossways in a little plug o' smoke, with the 'andle alongside of it, +would they, Bobbs?"</p> + +<p>"Are you sawing the bars?"</p> + +<p>"Ham I? It's all done."</p> + +<p>"You've sawed them through?"</p> + +<p>"And poor little hinnocent Bobbs never 'eard me."</p> + +<p>Dobbs went off in a peal of laughter.</p> + +<p>"But how do you hide the cuts in the bars when any one comes?"</p> + +<p>"Wot'll stop a leak in a gas-pipe? Soap. Wot'll 'ide a slice in a sawed +bar? Gum."</p> + +<p>"Gum?"</p> + +<p>"You see, chummy, the wentilation is poor in 'ere. There's a green +mildew on my floor and the bloomin' spiders is too silent to be sociable +company. But you never 'eard me 'ollerin', Bobbs."</p> + +<p>Indeed, he always lay low during the outbreaks. His methods were more +secretive. He was the villain by trade.</p> + +<p>"But my sympathy is with the bloomin' mutineers hall the time. So I pick +away with my rat's tooth w'en the others is 'ollerin' and even green +little hinnocent Bobbs cawn't 'ear me."</p> + +<p>The rasping sound illustrated his meaning.</p> + +<p>"Ee won't trust me, but Hi trust 'im. We'll see who can keep a secret, +and who leaks."</p> + +<p>There was a sound as if something had been slid out of the wall on the +other side and of a sudden Dobbs' whisper became startlingly distinct.</p> + +<p>"Honly a few minutes, Bobbs. Hi 'old the plaster in my pockets, and the +rat's tooth in my fingers w'ile Hi gnaw and gnaw." The tool began +working rapidly and dexterously. In a short time Dobbs spoke again:</p> + +<p>"Tap 'em till you feel it 'ollow, and shove on the 'ollow spot."</p> + +<p>Robert tapped the wall.</p> + +<p>"Shove 'arder."</p> + +<p>Robert gave a stiff push with his elbow. The brick was loosened and gave +way.</p> + +<p>"Now, catch it, chummy."</p> + +<p>Slowly the Englishman shoved the brick toward Robert, till it protruded +from his side of the cell. It would have fallen on the bed if Robert had +not caught it. After the brick came a hand and the striped sleeve of a +convict's arm. It was a characteristic hand, broad, with spatulate +fingernails and a black star on the fleshy ball between forefinger and +thumb. But the cracksman must have fallen out with his own likeness as +Iago, for his thumb-nail was clean as a whistle. Between the fingers lay +a tiny file of rarest workmanship. Its teeth were set almost as sharply +as those of a saw, and the steel was tempered to the hardness of +adamant.</p> + +<p>"'Ow's that for a tooth, Bobbs?"</p> + +<p>Floyd took it for a moment, but a step was heard coming along the +corridor. It was Longlegs.</p> + +<p>"Quick, Bobbs, put back the brick."</p> + +<p>Dobbs' voice grew hoarse with excitement. Robert replaced the block on +his side, and heard the convict doing the same on the other. As Longlegs +passed, Dobbs fell into a tremendous spasm of coughing. The turnkey +hastened to the end of the corridor, jangling his keys as if deriding +the derision with which he was greeted all the way. He had run his +gantlet too often to heed the jeers and grimaces he met. There was a +sound as if he were unlocking the farther door and then relocking it +from the outside.</p> + +<p>"That's a very useful cough," whispered Dobbs to Floyd. It had ceased +all of a sudden. "It drives undesirable acquaintances about their +business and it procures me admission to the 'ospital, w'ich is a +sociable and communicative quarter. Hi'm a-winkin'."</p> + +<p>Robert was beginning to understand things. The cracksman was +malingering. It was through the hospital that he communicated with his +friends outside.</p> + +<p>"And Hi 'ope that Dobbs 'as given ample proof to Bobbs that ee his +deservin' of 'is confidence."</p> + +<p>Robert looked down and started at the temptation before him. The file +lay in his hand.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>A TRIP TO HILLSBOROUGH.</h3> + + +<p>The life of Emily Barlow during this balmy month of summer might be +described as an oscillation in criss-cross between her home and the +studio in one direction, and Shagarach's office and the state prison in +the other. For in spite of Robert's protest she had returned several +times to pour the sunlight of her sympathy into his cell, and the +convicts, either because the latent manhood in them went out to a brave +girl doing battle for her lover, or because Dobbs had exercised his +influence in her behalf, offered no repetition of their first affront.</p> + +<p>The point of intersection between these two much-traveled routes was a +certain down-town corner, where Emily was already becoming a familiar +figure to the policeman who escorted ladies over the crossing. A more +disagreeable feature of her passage of this point was the frequent +appearance there of Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. But Emily, like other +golden-haired girls, was accustomed to rude glances from men, and had +learned to tolerate them as we accept turbid weather, muddy streets and +the other unavoidable miseries of life.</p> + +<p>She had been riding in the steam car fully fifteen minutes before she +could determine in what direction the hostile influence lay. It could +not be the mere uncertainty of her journey. Even if Bertha were not with +the Arnolds at Hillsborough, it did not follow that her sweetheart was +lost. At first broadly pervasive, like an approaching fog, the malign +presence had gradually begun to locate itself near her, and it was with +a sudden shock, like the first splash of a long-delayed shower, that she +realized she was under observation from the passenger in front.</p> + +<p>He had never turned around since they had left the station. To all +appearances he was buried in a magazine. There was not even a sidewise +position to indicate that he was keeping her within the field of his +vision. Yet Emily knew that every sense of the man was alert in her +direction, and that by a sort of diffused palpation, like that of the +blind, he was aware of her slightest gesture. She thought of moving back +to escape the oppression, or forward into another car. But the station +platforms on either side lay in full view of the windows, and she felt +that the relief would be only temporary. He would follow her out.</p> + +<p>Who was the stranger? She was certain she had never seen his round, +shaven face before, yet she felt that it was some one whose fortunes +were bound in with hers, some one whom she would recognize, when his +name was uttered, as a familiar. All efforts to dispel this dim fear +were fruitless. She tried to gaze out at the skimming landscape, but +some subtle force gripped her muscles and turned her head to the front. +She closed her eyes, but the image still floated before her and she knew +it was there to thwart her purpose and work her lover harm.</p> + +<p>Fully fifty minutes of the ride had been rendered wretched to Emily by +these doubts and fears, when the conductor entered to collect the +tickets for Hillsborough. The man in front seemed to jerk himself out of +his fit of absorption. He fumbled for his oblong blue card, on which +Emily espied the lettering "Hillsborough." But the hand which delivered +it struck a numbness in her heart. It was broad and fleshy, with the +fingernails which are said to betray the professional criminal, and a +star worked in black ink on the protuberance between forefinger and +thumb. Robert had described this peculiarity in his cell-acquaintance, +Bill Dobbs. If it were he, this was a strange situation in which to find +the solitary cracksman. Perhaps it was one of his "hospital days."</p> + +<p>"Hillsborough! Hillsborough!" came the announcement from both ends of +the car, followed by the usual banging of doors. Emily started for the +rear exit, which was the nearer. Once alighted, she walked leisurely +forward along the platform. A side glance upward revealed Bill Dobbs +just leaving his seat and passing to the rear, exactly in her footsteps. +When he caught her eye he smiled. It was true. He was pursuing her. Her +spirits sank, and she did not quicken her pace. The engine stood +champing like an impatient horse beside her, for she was almost abreast +of the tender.</p> + +<p>"All aboard!" the uniformed trainmen were crying. Emily glanced around. +Bill Dobbs was just entering the station door, apparently taking no more +notice of her than of the drivers soliciting his custom. But she knew +that her least movement was under his cognizance. With a quick jump she +placed her foot on the step, and, catching a conductor's hand, remounted +the moving train. A backward glance, as she sunk into her seat, +discovered Bill Dobbs sauntering up the road.</p> + +<p>An interval of regret seized Emily when she reviewed her conduct calmly. +Had she, indeed, escaped some unknown danger? Or was she the victim of a +girl's foolish illusion? She was beginning to chide herself as a prey to +superstition when the realities of her predicament suddenly forced +themselves upon her by the reappearance of the conductor.</p> + +<p>"What is the next station, please?"</p> + +<p>"Elmwood."</p> + +<p>"How far is that?"</p> + +<p>"Two miles."</p> + +<p>Two miles. To be carried two miles beyond Hillsborough into the +neighboring township! Possibly the Arnold estate lay midway between, but +it was more probable that she would be footsore and spent before she +reached the house where Bertha was supposed to be living. There was an +extra fare to pay, a brief whirling glimpse of woodland and meadow, and +then the engine slacked up again before a cottage-like, rustic station.</p> + +<p>A circle of 12-year-olds desisted from their romp to watch the sweet +lady approaching them.</p> + +<p>"Little boy, could you direct me to the Arnold mansion?" she said to the +oldest.</p> + +<p>"Arnold mansion? Don't know any Arnolds round here."</p> + +<p>"They live in Hillsborough. How far is that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know," put in a tot in tires. "That's the lady that has the +gardens way over on the Hillsborough line."</p> + +<p>"'Bout five miles from here, isn't it, Chester?" said another.</p> + +<p>"Can't I get a carriage to drive me there?" Emily felt equal to five +miles or twenty, now that she was once started, but if feasible she +would have preferred to let some four-footed creature do the walking.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Chester, "you see the coach is up at the academy and I +guess it won't come down till the game is over. You might get a wagon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, somebody may give me a ride. Which way does Hillsborough +lie?"</p> + +<p>"Follow this road straight along, till you come to the bridge. That's +the Hillsborough line and I guess anybody over there will tell you."</p> + +<p>Emily thanked her guides and sped off on her long trudge. Behind her she +heard the boys' shrill chirps, mingled with the light soprano of +girlhood, running up and down the bright gamut of pleasure. How +melodious their joyous inflections were, compared with the harsh +syllables she was accustomed to hear from the children of the pavements. +How much richer and deeper this country stillness than the everlasting +murmur of the city, which makes silence only a figure of speech to the +dwellers within its walls.</p> + +<p>But is not all silence figurative and relative, thought Emily, a mere +hint at some magnificent placid experience, only possible in its purity +to the inhabitants of outer space? Even the countryside was not still. +Plump sparrows, dusting themselves in the road, never ceased their +brawling. The shy brown thrush swerved across her path at intervals and +bubbled his song from the thickets. The meadowlark left his +tussock-hidden nest to greet the world proudly from the pasture rock, +and far away the phoebe's plaintive utterance of his lost love's name +pierced the sibilance of the trees.</p> + +<p>"There's a loam for you," said an old gardener, spading an oval plot on +a lawn. His bulbs and potted sproutings were arranged at one side. +"Feel. 'Twouldn't soil a queen's hands. Dry as meal and brown as a +berry. Same for two feet down."</p> + +<p>Emily took up a handful to please the old man. It crumbled between her +fingers like the soft brown sugar which grocers display in crocks, +though not, as youthful customers sometimes think, to be scooped and +paddled with by idle hands.</p> + +<p>"I can see roses in that, miss," said the gardener, turning up a deep +spadeful for her inspection. But time was precious and she shortened the +commonplaces, breaking away toward Hillsborough.</p> + +<p>All that was visible of Elmwood was a cluster of cottages about the +station and a few outlying farms. A brick building crowning its highest +hill was probably the academy to which her guides had referred. On both +sides the country opened out in great reaches of level fertility, groves +of dark trees rising at intervals where the pools lay that nourished +their roots. Now they sprung up by the roadside and overarched her with +drooping boughs.</p> + +<p>Looking upward, as she walked, almost alone, Emily felt herself the +center of a greater mystery, embracing, as it were, that in which her +sweetheart was entangled. Nights of vigil had begun to overstring her +nerves. That strange doubling of impressions which attacks us in such +moods, making a kind of mirage of the mind, came over her. Everything +about her seemed familiar, as old as her infancy, as the world itself. +Elmwood! She had babbled the name in her cradle days, her earliest +rambles had been through its grassy paths. Yonder silver-birch, whose +delicately scalloped foliage rose and drooped in long strings, as if the +foamy spurt of a fountain should be frozen in its fall, had it not +printed itself on her memory somewhere a thousand times before? The +three urchins passing her from behind, surely their faces were not +strange.</p> + +<p>It may be Emily was right about the urchins and that there was no +mirage in her recollection of them. She had been present on the morning +when Ellen's body was found and they may have stood by her side in the +crowd.</p> + +<p>"I'm stiff, Whistler," said one of them in the broad drawl of the city +gamin.</p> + +<p>"Don't expect to be limber after ridin' twenty miles on a car truck, do +yer, Turkey? What place is this, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"I'll stump yez to come over in the swamp and get some little frogs," +said urchin number three, who was no other than our crabbed young +acquaintance, Toot Watts.</p> + +<p>Emily wondered, as she saw them disappear down in the meadows, whether +they had really been her fellow-passengers all the way from the city. +How dingy they were! Not a point of color except the peachy cheeks of +Whistler and the golden glow at the end of Turkey's cigarette.</p> + +<p>When she reached the academy playground she thought she must have +covered two miles. There was a game in progress between two baseball +clubs of rival academies and the sight of sportive youths and cheering +onlookers was welcome to her after so long a spell of solitude. She was +unhappily ignorant of the rudiments of that most scientific of games. +"Fly" and "grounder" to her were simply undistinguishable terms of a +barbaric technical jargon. But the sparkle of eager eyes and the motion +of active limbs, set off by graceful costumes, was, perhaps, more +apparent to her than if appreciation of the spectacle had been +overwhelmed by interest in the match.</p> + +<p>What breeding in the salute, in the very tones, when one of the +outfielders, chasing a hit out of bounds, begged pardon for jostling +against her ever so little. For a moment, admiring the liberal swing of +his arm, as he made the long throw home, though the most womanly of +women, she envied men the bodily freedom which they deny to their +sisters. Presumably the play was successful, for its result was greeted +with plaudits, and the club afield closed in toward the plate.</p> + +<p>Beyond the ball ground, under a clump of willows, Emily was surprised +to come upon her three fellow-passengers once more. They must have cut +through the meadows on the other side of the academy. The grove made a +screen completely hiding them from the playground, and there was no one +else about. Against a rocky wall three bicycles were resting.</p> + +<p>"Let's take a ride, fellers," said the one who had been addressed as +"Turkey."</p> + +<p>"Cheese it. There's somebody comin'," protested the Whistler.</p> + +<p>"Come on. I'm sick of this. Them fellers can't play a little bit."</p> + +<p>"On'y a little ride around. They'll never know," added Toot.</p> + +<p>Turkey boldly led the way, mounting like a veteran. Toot followed +quickly, and finally the Whistler, finding himself abandoned by his +comrades, swallowed his scruples and joined them. His was a girl's +wheel, but he overtook his companions easily.</p> + +<p>"Boys! Stop!" Emily found herself calling out a remonstrance. All three +turned their heads at this shrill command, but it only made them speed +away more rapidly. The road was downhill here, and the pedals whirled +around like the crank-shaft of a flying locomotive. Should she turn back +and give the alarm? It was a good stretch for limbs already weary and +with an unknown number of miles before them. Besides, this was probably +nothing worse than a boyish prank. If only city-street boys were like +country-academy boys, she sighed. Perhaps they would be if they all had +natty uniforms to wear and a bicycle apiece. No doubt the gamins would +soon turn about, although they acted as though her outcry had frightened +them; and the last she saw of them they were pedaling for dear life +toward the city, twenty miles away.</p> + +<p>Circumstances were to be greatly altered when Emily met these young +racers again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>STAMPEDE AND AVALANCHE.</h3> + + +<p>Is there in all the world a sight more wholesome and comforting to the +tired wayfarer than a loaded hay-cart? When Emily spied one ahead of her +she felt a little throb of pleasure in her bosom and at once hastened +her step to overtake it. The farmer was asleep on the seat, with a +sundown over his face.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had better wake him," thought Emily. "Won't your horse run +away?"</p> + +<p>"Run away?" The peaked old face was wide open of a sudden. "Guess not, +miss, not with that load on. Dobbin ain't no pony. Step aboard? How far +are you baound?"</p> + +<p>"I am looking for the Arnold mansion."</p> + +<p>"Arnold mansion? This is just the kerridge you want to take. Mrs. +Arnold's a putty close neighbor of aours."</p> + +<p>Grateful for the offer, Emily climbed into the creaky seat under the +fragrant, overhanging load.</p> + +<p>"You b'long in Foxtaown, I s'pose?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm from the city."</p> + +<p>"All the way from the city? Well, I declare. I thot I knew all the +Elmwood leddies. I s'pose things are putty brisk in taown these days?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. We always have plenty of excitement. Too much, I fear. Some of +us miss the quiet you enjoy out here among the meadows."</p> + +<p>The rustic meditated upon this a moment, chewing a straw.</p> + +<p>"Speakin' of medders, haow's hay sellin'?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, really," answered Emily. She was not informed on this +utilitarian side of the subject.</p> + +<p>"Just been shavin' my ten-acre lot daown the road. Did most o' the +mowin' ourselves, me and Ike, that's my brother, with the Loomis boy. +But he ain't good for much except forkin' it on. You wouldn't s'pose +there was a clean ton o' hay on this wagon, would you?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," answered Emily. This was true. She would not have ventured +any supposition at all as to the weight of the hay.</p> + +<p>"Good medder-grass, too."</p> + +<p>"Do you live in Hillsborough?"</p> + +<p>"Aour haouse jest abaout straddles the line, but wife goes to meetin' in +Elmwood."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she likes the services better?"</p> + +<p>"Nao. You see the Elmwood parson takes all our eggs, and wife thinks +'twouldn't do to spile a payin' customer. Woa! Here comes wife's nephew, +Silas Tompkins."</p> + +<p>"Evenin' uncle," nodded the young man in the buggy.</p> + +<p>"Evenin', Silas. Been down to the pasture?"</p> + +<p>"Yaas."</p> + +<p>"Well, haow are the oats lookin'?"</p> + +<p>"Comin' putty green, Uncle Silas," drawled the other, speeding by.</p> + +<p>Emily was wondering if a life of agricultural labor always gives such a +vegetable cast to people's minds, when a clatter of hoofs behind caused +her to turn her head. The cavalier was clothed in velvet of a soft, rich +bulrush-brown. Just as he passed them his eye caught something afar and +he shouted to the farmer:</p> + +<p>"Here's a runaway! Hug the right of the road!"</p> + +<p>They were turning a bend, but across the angle through the bushes a pair +of coal-black horses could be seen heading toward them. The farmer's +jerking at the reins was comical but effective. In a twinkling he had +his nag squeezed against the wall which bounded the narrow road.</p> + +<p>"Get up, Aladdin!" whispered the rider, and the horse, a powerful +roadster or steeplechaser, yet with limbs like a stag's, cantered +forward, as if to meet the wild blacks. But suddenly his master turned +him about and began trotting gently back, keeping to the other side of +the road and turning his head over his left shoulder toward the +approaching runaways. As they slewed around the bend their coachman was +flung from his seat into the grass border of the roadside.</p> + +<p>"Rosalie!" exclaimed the waiting cavalier, cutting his horse over the +flanks. It bounded away abreast of the team. Emily remembered a vague +whirl of spangled reins and a frightened face of rare beauty blushing +through its silver veil.</p> + +<p>"He's killed!" she cried, dismounting and running toward the coachman. +But the grass was like a cushion in its midsummer thickness, and he had +already picked himself up uninjured, save for bruises and a tattered +sleeve.</p> + +<p>"It was the gobbler frightened 'em," he said, starting off at a lame +dog-trot after the retreating carriage. Emily turned just in time to +witness a rare exhibition of coolness and skill. The chestnut had kept +abreast of the blacks with ease. At the right moment his rider, clinging +to the saddle and stirrup like a cossack, reached over with his left +hand and caught the reins of the foaming pair. Then gradually he slowed +up his steeplechaser, jerking powerfully at the bridles. The added +weight was too much for the runaways to pull, and all three were ambling +peacefully when they faded from sight in a cloud of dust.</p> + +<p>"I guess we'll start for hum," said the farmer. Emily was standing with +her finger on her lip, unconscious of his presence.</p> + +<p>"Putty slick on a horse, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Young Arnold. He kin stick on like a clothes-pin, I tell yew."</p> + +<p>"Is that Harry Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"'Tain't no one else."</p> + +<p>Emily remembered how his expression had changed when he recognized the +lady in peril as "Rosalie," and felt like asking the farmer if he knew +her. But Griggs (she now learned his name) was prosing on about his new +barn, and she relapsed into silence. The rest of their road was an +avenue of elms. Through their interstices smiled the calm blue of the +late afternoon sky, tempered by contrast with the green of the foliage. +It was the first time she had ever observed this rare harmony of colors.</p> + +<p>"Woa! There!" said Griggs. "I'll set you daown here. The Arnolds' house +is up yonder over the hill. They ain't p'ticler friends of aours, but +the help come over and buy wife's cream."</p> + +<p>"Have they a girl in help named Bertha Lund?"</p> + +<p>"I s'pose wife knows the women-folks. I don't," replied the old man, +energetically reaching for his rake.</p> + +<p>"A new servant, this is."</p> + +<p>As if to answer her question, there came a loud bark from the little +woody knoll on the right of the road, and a great St. Bernard came +bounding down. It was Sire, who had recognized Emily. She knew that he +had been left in Bertha's charge and probably the housemaid was behind +him.</p> + +<p>"Sire! Sire!" her cheerful voice was heard calling through the +stillness. How fresh she looked with her soft country bloom and a golden +tan.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Miss Barlow?" cried Bertha, opening her eyes in amazement. A +cream pitcher in one hand revealed her errand, but Farmer Griggs was +already half-way to his new barn, which lay fifty yards off the left of +the road.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Bertha," answered Emily, fondling Sire, who seemed almost to know +that she bore him a message from his master. "I have come all the way +out to meet you."</p> + +<p>"How is poor Mr. Robert?"</p> + +<p>"Not very well contented with his present quarters."</p> + +<p>"He is still in jail? Ah, poor young man! What a shame! And Ellen gone, +too! It was the beginning of trouble for all of us when the old +professor died."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't easy to find you, Bertha. You didn't leave your address with +Mrs. Christenson."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I did not." Bertha gave an independent toss of her head. "I had +no wish to be chased by her and coaxed to come back, and I'm very well +satisfied where I am, with my $5 and light duties and out of the city +and as kind treatment as if I was a visitor."</p> + +<p>Emily thought she might understand the reason of this bountiful +hospitality.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Shagarach, the lawyer, who is defending Robert, suggested that I +come and see you. You were so near the fire when it broke out, he +thought that you might know something that would help our side."</p> + +<p>"That I'll tell heartily. They sha'n't tie my tongue."</p> + +<p>"You don't believe Robert set the fire?"</p> + +<p>"No more than I did or Sire."</p> + +<p>Emily looked at the dog, who was crouched before them. He had lifted his +head at the mention of his name.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Sire, you know the solution of all this mystery, don't you? And +you'd tell it if you could."</p> + +<p>Sire barked an answer to this appeal and turned his head away, blinking, +as old dogs do.</p> + +<p>"But who could have done it, Bertha?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody in all the world. It just happened, like the other fire before."</p> + +<p>"Was there another fire before?" asked Emily, all eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Two or three years ago we had a fire in the study."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the professor had just gone upstairs a minute and when I went in +the big waste basket was blazing up."</p> + +<p>"There wasn't much damage then?"</p> + +<p>"If I hadn't opened the window and thrown it out on the sidewalk the +whole house might have been burned. Why, the study was nothing but a +tinder-box with the books on the shelves and magazines and papers always +thrown about."</p> + +<p>"After the fire had once started, I can see how it would spread. But the +mystery is, how did it start? You never followed the first fire up?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed we did. The professor was careful to follow it up, but they +could find nobody then and they'll find nobody now. It was just the will +of heaven."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could have told about this other fire at the examination, +Bertha."</p> + +<p>"I had it in my mind to tell, but the little thread of a man made me so +cross with his nagging, it all flew out of my head."</p> + +<p>"Robert—was Robert in the house when the other fire happened?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I remember calling him, and he flew downstairs four at a time and +stamped out the sparks on the carpet."</p> + +<p>"What time of day was it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not good to remember time. It was daytime, I know."</p> + +<p>"Forenoon or afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Bertha's knitted forehead brought no clarity to her recollections.</p> + +<p>"I've forgotten, Miss Barlow. I know it was the hot summer time, but +forenoon or afternoon, that's all gone from me now."</p> + +<p>"But you will try to bring it back, Bertha? It may be important. Mr. +Shagarach is a wonderfully wise man who could build up a great +explanation out of a little thing like that. You will tell him all you +know if he comes to see you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be as free-spoken as I choose, and forty inspectors won't stop +me."</p> + +<p>"Could you describe the study again, Bertha, just as it looked when you +were dusting it, with Robert standing over the hearth?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you know the room, Miss Barlow—square, high-studded, with two +windows, the professor's desk at one and the bird cage before the other. +Shelves and books all round, hundreds of them, and magazines and papers +scattered about. Chairs, pictures, the safe and the professor's things +just as he left them—his slippers on the floor, his spectacles and +bible on the desk, his dressing-gown over the back of the arm-chair——"</p> + +<p>"And a waste-basket?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, the big waste-basket always beside his desk. The professor had +so much writing to do."</p> + +<p>"Was it full?"</p> + +<p>"All full of black wrapping paper that came off of his books. The +professor got so many books."</p> + +<p>"And his safe with the papers in it?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody ever touched it but the professor. At least, I never meddled +with it."</p> + +<p>Emily noticed the emphasis Bertha laid on the first person, but an +unwelcome interruption prevented further disclosures.</p> + +<p>The knoll which Bertha and Sire had descended made a grade like the +pitch of an old gable roof. Toward the top a tempting tussock of clover +lay in sight, scenting the atmosphere and titillating the nostrils of +the horse attached to Farmer Griggs' hay-cart. Dobbin was ordinarily a +staid and trustworthy animal, who might be left alone for hours; but on +this occasion his carnal appetite overmastered his sense of duty and led +him gradually higher and higher up the grade toward the odorous herbage. +The first hint the two girls had of the peril which was imminent was +when they heard the voice of the farmer shouting from the barn.</p> + +<p>Turning in that direction, they beheld him running toward them, hat in +hand, as if racing for a guerdon, and brandishing a pitchfork. Whether +they or some one else were the object of his outcries they could not in +the confusion of the moment determine. But the doubt was speedily +settled by the occurrence of the very catastrophe which Farmer Griggs +was hastening to avert.</p> + +<p>Dobbin had just climbed within reach and was relishing the first morsel +of his stolen supper, when suddenly the top of the hay load, which was +tipped up to an exceedingly steep angle by his ascent of the knoll, slid +down like a glacier and deposited itself at the feet of the startled +girls.</p> + +<p>But this was not all. From the midst of it the figure of a man, badly +shaken but unhurt, arose and straightened itself out.</p> + +<p>Both girls gave a shriek in unison. Emily recognized, to her +astonishment and dismay, the face of her train companion, the supposed +Bill Dobbs. But Bertha's surprise was quickly converted into merriment.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. McCausland, what a tumble!" she laughed, just as Farmer Griggs +arrived.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>REPORTING TO HEADQUARTERS.</h3> + + +<p>"McCausland!"</p> + +<p>Emily bit off the exclamation just a moment too late. This, then, was +the interesting convict who had tried to worm himself into Robert's +confidence. This was Shagarach's vaunted opponent, the evil genius +arrayed against the good, in mortal combat for her sweetheart's life. +With Sire worrying his heels, Bertha holding her side in unchecked +laughter, and Emily eying him with an expression of amazement gradually +turning to scorn, the detective looked for a moment as if he would have +resigned his whole reputation to be elsewhere. But suddenly he righted +himself and led the horse around to the road, snatched Griggs' pitchfork +and was tossing the spilled hay back into place before the fuming farmer +realized what he was about.</p> + +<p>"This is Miss Barlow," said Bertha. "But I suppose you don't need an +introduction."</p> + +<p>"We were fellow-passengers on the train coming down."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me, after that, we servants are the only keyhole listeners."</p> + +<p>"Mr. McCausland makes eavesdropping a science," added Emily, who was not +at all disposed to spare him.</p> + +<p>"There!"</p> + +<p>The inspector had finished his task. As the old farmer led his recovered +property back to the barn he never relaxed his hold on the bridle and +vented his wrath all the way on the offending beast. When he had +disappeared inside his barn, they could still hear him scolding.</p> + +<p>"Tarnal idiot! Yer fool, yer! I'll shorten yer fodder for yer! I'll +teach yer to stand! Woa!"</p> + +<p>"Eavesdropping! What nonsense!" said McCausland, smiling. Shorn of its +mustache his face looked more ferret-like than ever and one could excuse +Tristram March's estimate of its owner's villainy. "I had to leave +Hillsborough on the 6:21, and natural impatience led me to follow the +lazy girl who went after the cream for my supper."</p> + +<p>"It took you a long time to make up that fib," retorted Bertha, but she +took the hint and went over to the farmhouse to fill her pitcher.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will join me at lunch, Miss Barlow. You may be taking the +same train and I shall have the pleasure of your company to the station +in Mrs. Arnold's carriage."</p> + +<p>"No, I thank you. I will not trouble Mrs. Arnold either for lunch or for +the carriage."</p> + +<p>"Or, Mr. McCausland?"</p> + +<p>"Or Mr. McCausland."</p> + +<p>Emily spoke in a tone which was meant to convey that there were too many +unforgiven injuries between them to permit her to accept favors from +either of them. She looked at her watch. It was 5:30.</p> + +<p>"There is no other conveyance from here and the station is three miles," +urged the inspector, with good humor.</p> + +<p>"I can walk there in an hour."</p> + +<p>"You must have walked a part of the way from Elmwood."</p> + +<p>"Please do not press me, Mr. McCausland."</p> + +<p>He muttered something about "spunk" as he looked after the girl's slight +figure retreating. Then he gallantly relieved Bertha of her foaming +pitcher and sauntered with her back to the Arnold mansion.</p> + +<p>When Emily reached the Hillsborough station she was indeed a footsore +girl, fully convinced that country miles are as indefinite as nautical +knots, but in the few moments she had to spare before the train came by +she purchased a lunch of fruit, which refreshed her a little. Before +they were well out of the station Inspector McCausland came up and asked +permission to occupy the seat at her side.</p> + +<p>During her walk Emily had come around to a gentler view of the +detective's behavior. She could not look back on the afternoon's events +without a certain complacency. For the true aspect of the case against +Robert, as a grand chess duel between the criminal lawyer and the +detective, was gradually dawning upon her, and surely in the discovery +of Bertha's hiding-place and the unmasking of Bill Dobbs, white, her +champion, had gained two positive advantages over black, the enemy's +color. Besides, loyal as she was to her sweetheart, with that singleness +of heart which we sometimes call womanly prejudice, there was a genial +persistency in McCausland few could resist. So she forbore to fire upon +his flag of truce and assented to the request.</p> + +<p>They talked for the most part of irrelevant matters, and she herself did +not like to broach the subject of all subjects. Only once did he appear +to glance at his official relation to her.</p> + +<p>"The fisherman, Miss Barlow, doesn't enjoy the death struggles of the +mackerel in his nets," he said. "But he is obliged to see that they do +not escape."</p> + +<p>"Then you do disagreeable work from a sense of public duty?"</p> + +<p>"And for the support of my family," he added. "But as we've arrived at +the city perhaps I'd better return these now."</p> + +<p>So saying, he laid Emily's watch, pocketbook and brooch in her lap. +Dumfounded, she felt of her bodice, where these articles should be. The +neck-clasp was missing, the watch-pocket empty. McCausland had picked +her pockets while they were conversing.</p> + +<p>"Set a thief to catch a thief," said the detective, still smiling, but +raising his hat with respect. Emily smiled herself, less at the prank he +had played than because she thought she had good reasons to be cheerful. +But she did not communicate them to Richard McCausland, alias William +Dobbs.</p> + +<p>It happened that her course through town took her by Shagarach's office. +It was nearly 7:30, but there was a light in his window still, and an +impulse seized her to convey the glad tidings of her successful journey +to the lawyer. So she picked her way across the street and tripped +light-heartedly up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"You bring good news, Miss Barlow," said Shagarach, a little heavily. He +was standing at the window with his hands in his pockets and his back +turned, but there was power in his very carelessness. If he could not +pick pockets he could master men.</p> + +<p>"How could you know?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I simply heard you coming. There is mood in a footstep," he answered, +facing her and offering a chair, while he sat himself at the table with +his arms folded expectantly. Through the open window where he had been +standing Emily felt the cool evening air, dim with dew it held in +suspension; and far away the hill-built capitol of the city, printed +darkly against the blood-orange sunset, seemed lifted into the uppermost +heavens, at an immeasurable height from earth. Had this been the object +of Shagarach's contemplation?</p> + +<p>"What is the result?"</p> + +<p>"Bertha is found again."</p> + +<p>"At Arnold's?"</p> + +<p>"At Arnold's."</p> + +<p>Knowing his taste for brevity, she condensed the story of her day's +wanderings, not omitting, however, the incidents which seemed to connect +McCausland with the pretended English cracksman.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of the narrative she perceived an unwonted wandering of +attention in her listener. A trio of street minstrels, with flute, +violin and harp, had set up a passionate Spanish dance tune, just far +enough away to afford that confused blending of harmonies which adds so +much to the effect of carelessly rendered music. Shagarach's eyes had +left Emily's face and strayed toward the window. Twice he had asked her +to repeat, as though he were catching up a lost thread. At last he arose +abruptly and shut down the sash, muffling the minstrelsy at the height +of its wildest abandon.</p> + +<p>"Our street troubadours distract you?" asked Emily.</p> + +<p>"The violinist is a gypsy," said the lawyer, shutting his eyes. Emily +remembered this saying afterward, and even now she began to understand +why a certain compassion, mingled with the fear and admiration which +this man so gifted, but so meanly surrounded, aroused.</p> + +<p>"That is all?" he said. She thought it amounted to a good deal. "I fear +Miss Barlow may not descend the stairs as gayly as she mounted them."</p> + +<p>"What have I done? How have I blundered?" she asked herself.</p> + +<p>"To have caught McCausland napping was a pleasant diversion, but of +little practical value. He is merely playing the nest-egg game."</p> + +<p>"The nest-egg game?"</p> + +<p>"Dressing up as a convict, locating himself in the adjoining cell and +confessing some enormity himself so as to induce his bird to lay. The +trick has an excellent basis in psychology, since the second law of life +is to imitate."</p> + +<p>"And the first?"</p> + +<p>"To devour. You think that crude?" he added, noting Emily's look. "Ah, +fact is crude, and we must never shirk fact. But since Floyd is innocent +it could have availed McCausland little to continue his harmless efforts +to wheedle a confession out of him—which I presume you will now +interrupt."</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily," answered Emily, who would by no means be sorry to +prolong the joke at the expense of the subtle inspector.</p> + +<p>"But that our discovery of Bertha's hiding-place should be known to +McCausland is a little unfortunate. She may be removed at once, this +time beyond our reach."</p> + +<p>"Is he so suspicious a man?"</p> + +<p>"When fighting wealth."</p> + +<p>"But we are not rich."</p> + +<p>"You forget the $5,000,000 and McCausland's point of view."</p> + +<p>Emily colored slightly. This was the bitter fruit of her wasted +afternoon, her six miles' walk, her long fast. But she kept these things +to herself. And Shagarach did not look at all perturbed. John Davidson +had told her that he was accounted by some a trifle slack in the +preparation of his matter, trusting overmuch to his power in the +cross-examination to bring out the truth. His record, however, showed +that he did not overrate his own skill. As certain clever exhibitors, +blindfolded, will take the arm of a reluctant guide, and, by noting his +resistances, compel him to lead them to some article in hiding, so +Shagarach followed the windings and subterfuges of unwilling testimony, +bringing witnesses at last face to face with the truth they had striven +to conceal.</p> + +<p>"Our cause has assumed a novel aspect," said the lawyer, opening a +drawer and producing three or four letters. "I am the victim of an +anonymous correspondent."</p> + +<p>Emily glanced at the envelopes. Their penmanship appeared to be that of +an illiterate person, the "Shagarach" in particular bearing a strong +resemblance to the four priceless if illegible autographs which are the +only relics left us bearing the immediate personal impress of the man of +Stratford.</p> + +<p>"The earlier epistles merely threaten me with death in its least +desirable forms if I do not surrender my brief for Robert Floyd. The +writer appears to cherish a grievance against your friend. Had he any +enemies?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Very well. It appears I was to suffer martyrdom for his sake. Today's +mail, however, discloses a change of policy. The handwriting is the +same, but sloped backward to disguise it."</p> + +<p>He passed a letter over so that Emily might read the wretched scrawl.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Mr. Shagarach: I mean to let you know that I have discovered +a important klew which will save your cliant. Pleeze be at the +bridge, the Pere leading over to the island Fort, at 8 o'clock (8 +P. M.) sharp To-morrow, and I mean to let you know my klew for +nothing. If you do not cum, yore life is not worth living. You will +be torn into on site."</p></blockquote> + +<p>A rude skull and crossbones was figured in place of a signature.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think the writer's brain has a flaw in it?" asked Emily.</p> + +<p>"Possibly. There is something not entirely consistent in the promise to +rend me in two if I do not accept his assistance."</p> + +<p>"Or hers?"</p> + +<p>"You do not recognize the handwriting?"</p> + +<p>"It might be that of any very ignorant person. There is almost no style +or character."</p> + +<p>"Rather masculine. It may be some irresponsible being, as you say. But +there is a singular accent of sincerity in the earlier letters; a +genuine hatred of Floyd."</p> + +<p>"You will not venture to the meeting-place at that hour?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly fear Mr. Skull-and-Crossbones."</p> + +<p>Shagarach drew a delicate revolver from his lowest drawer. It lay like a +toy in his small white palm, but Emily could not repress a shudder.</p> + +<p>"You do not value my advice. You ask it, but you will not follow it?"</p> + +<p>"The chance of seeing and studying my correspondent is too good to be +lost."</p> + +<p>"Do you really read minds, Mr. Shagarach?" asked Emily.</p> + +<p>"Not in the charlatan's sense, certainly not. But the dominant thought +in every man's soul—self, money, pleasure, fame—is written plainly on +his face. The trained psychologist can predict much from a photograph."</p> + +<p>Eight! The ringing bells recalled Emily to thoughts of home. Almost +simultaneously a knock on the door ushered in a visitor, who proved to +be Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. The opium-eater was feathered in peacock +fashion this evening, but no brilliancy of plumage could offset the +undervitalized appearance of his tenuous form and sallow cheeks. He +started on recognizing Emily and appeared confused, but lifted his hat +with a sweep meant to be grandly courteous.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon. Shall I be so fortunate as to have the privilege of an +introduction?"</p> + +<p>"I was just about to leave," said Emily, passing him without a glance. +"Good-evening, Mr. Shagarach."</p> + +<p>"Good-evening."</p> + +<p>Shagarach attended her to the door with the deference he habitually +showed, and she felt his strong presence like a zone of protection +thrown around her.</p> + +<p>"You are punctual, Kennedy," said Shagarach, returning to the newcomer. +He had clicked his desk to and donned a hat and coat while the other was +drawling out an answer.</p> + +<p>"The Dove-Cote is just about on."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Emily, as Shagarach predicted, had descended the stairs much +more doubtfully than she had mounted them. But she clung to her woman's +faith that even the interrupted conversation with Bertha might yield +items which would germinate at a later stage; and, empty though it were, +her victory over the great McCausland was one of those successes which +give cheer to a young campaigner.</p> + +<p>Sustained by these hopes, she rode home at last and related the whole +story of her day's adventures and misadventures to her wondering mother +over the supper that had been cold for two hours.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>INSIDE THE DOVE-COTE.</h3> + + +<p>"Here we are!" cried Kennedy.</p> + +<p>The sudden flood of light dazzled Shagarach's eyes. Glittering +chandeliers threw prismatic reflections upon the twenty or thirty +occupants of the room, many of them in full evening dress, like his +escort, and several adding the sparkle of diamonds to the iridescence of +mirrors and cut glass around them. Across one corner stretched an +arc-shaped bar, from which two colored waiters served liquors to the +patrons, while others at intervals disappeared behind curtains and +reappeared balancing platters of light delicious viands for the men who +chatted at the tables. These were octagon-topped and covered with plush. +The carpeted floor yielded like turf to the feet. The conversation ran +low. The servants whispered their requests and answers. It was an +atmosphere of stealth and suppression.</p> + +<p>The getting there had been a story in two brief chapters. This palace of +fortune owed its name to its location on the uppermost floor of one of +those tall, slender structures, like dominoes set on end, which +illustrate the reaching upward for space in our cities when horizontal +expansion becomes no longer possible. It fronted on a blind passageway +in the heart of the hotel district. Its proprietor was a jovial +man-about-town, rather prone than averse to the society of police +captains. On the ground floor a commercial agency conducted its business +quietly. Tailors rented the second and third flights, but the fourth +story was always unoccupied and never advertised for hire. Applicants +covetous of its advantages were frightened away by the rental asked. It +was at the head of the stairs leading from this landing up that Kennedy +had pressed the three white bell buttons in the massive door.</p> + +<p>The door immediately swung open, and the pair found themselves in front +of a second door, similar to the first except that the opaque panels +were replaced by glass. Through these the stairs could be seen beyond. +Kennedy repeated his signal, this time, however, reversing the order and +beginning with the lowest knob. A slide opened at the head of the +stairs, and the two men were the object of scrutiny for awhile. +Shagarach's sponsor was evidently persona grata to the sentinel, for the +second door now swung in and they were free to mount the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Sure it's true-blue, Kennedy?" said the sentinel, when they passed him.</p> + +<p>"Sure," answered the manikin, but his smirk was forced. "Wine, Sambo."</p> + +<p>Kennedy began breaking the ice in this manner for his companion.</p> + +<p>"Not a life-long votary of the fickle goddess, I should judge," remarked +a man introduced as Mr. Faught.</p> + +<p>"This is my initiation into her mysterious rites," answered Shagarach, +sweeping the room for Harry Arnold.</p> + +<p>"Ah, then, it is not too late for you to withdraw. The ceremonies are +trying. I myself am only a neophyte of low degree. Perhaps, being a +student of character, you have observed as much from my appearance?"</p> + +<p>"I should have known that you had not lost a fortune this evening, at +least."</p> + +<p>"There is one simple rule to escape that."</p> + +<p>"Not to bring one here?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely."</p> + +<p>Shagarach had indeed been contrasting Faught with the other habitues, +most of them men of fashion, still young in years, but middle-aged in +the lines of their faces. Several beardless youths appeared to be +college students. Two or three wore the style of confidential +bookkeepers or bank cashiers. As many more were flush-faced veterans, +with wrinkled pouches under their worldly eyes and gray mustaches of +knowing twist. Against such a gathering, smiling, but irritable withal +underneath from the nervous tension, the large man of bland visage and +ironical phrase certainly struck a discordant note.</p> + +<p>"Come to the altar and I will explain our ritual."</p> + +<p>They moved toward the table in the middle of the room, which was the +center of all interest. If men appeared to be chatting absently in a +corner, their heads were constantly swiveled this way, their ears caught +the announcement of every result.</p> + +<p>"None of that, Perley. It was on Stuart's spot," cried a harsh voice +from behind the table.</p> + +<p>"The needle was on the line," protested Perley, reckless-looking and +sadly young. "I say, the needle was on the line, Reddy."</p> + +<p>He had missed the prize by a hair. Perhaps the bill he had laid down for +this turn was his last. But a friend led him away, still muttering, by +the arm, and the gap in the circle which his removal made was quickly +closed. The man called Reddy gathered the pile of bills together, +separated a small portion, which he swept into the till, and passed the +remainder to Stuart.</p> + +<p>"Reddy runs things," whispered Faught, not so low but that the +bank-tender heard and looked the newcomer over suspiciously. "Comes from +the west, a desperado. Just the man to keep them down."</p> + +<p>"The bad blood breaks out sometimes?"</p> + +<p>"Would if there wasn't a strong hand at the needle."</p> + +<p>There was certainly nothing weak about Reddy. He sprawled sidewise in +his chair, with his left elbow on the table and his right arm free for a +variety of uses—a big-boned ruffian with a sandy face and an eye +apparently riveted on the disk before him, but really sweeping in the +whole compass of the room. Overhanging eyebrows veiled these furtive +glances. As a rule he spoke quietly, in a sepulchral bass, warning the +players to adjust their stakes more evenly on the spots, or announcing +the winners of the prizes. The recent jar with Perley was something +uncommon in the mute and decorous chamber over which Reddy presided.</p> + +<p>"It's a new game—roletto; simple as odd or even," explained Faught. +"The circle is segmented off into black and white rays, or spots, as we +call them——"</p> + +<p>"And red?"</p> + +<p>"Those are used, too. You see, they are numbered like the others. But +they are specially colored for the game with the bank. In the ordinary +game some one proposes a stake and puts it down on its lucky number. +Then the rest follow suit. Would you like to try this round? It's only a +$10 trick."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>Shagarach laid his stake down on one of the spaces.</p> + +<p>"That starts it. See them join in. Twenty-four spaces, black and white, +and twenty-three filled. My ten spot quits it out. Now thank your stars +if you see that bill again."</p> + +<p>The gamblers stood near while Reddy reached toward the needle. A squad +of grenadiers at attention would not be more rigid. They were frozen +with suspense. But something paralyzed Reddy's wrist. He had caught the +full glance of Shagarach. It was several seconds before he twisted the +pointer. For several more it spun around, gradually slowing up and +coming to a rest over Shagarach's number.</p> + +<p>"Twenty!" called Reddy.</p> + +<p>"Mine!"</p> + +<p>Shagarach coolly smoothed out the bills and folded them in his pocket, +while the unsuccessful players eyed him greedily. Eleven-twelfths of the +stakes went to the winner, and 2,000 per cent would be considered a fair +profit in any speculation. But the return to the bank was still more +liberal, being the steady harvest of two-spots. It was easy to see how +the luxuries and free accessories of the Dove-Cote could be provided.</p> + +<p>"Try again," said Faught, shaking Shagarach's hand.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that is enough for an experiment," answered the lawyer, a +little undecided still whether Faught were a decoy of the establishment.</p> + +<p>"A hundred dollars even I come out whole to-night!" cried a voice at the +door. It was Harry Arnold.</p> + +<p>"A little quieter, gentlemen," said Reddy, tapping on his desk. "This +isn't the stock exchange."</p> + +<p>"It's a more respectable place," answered Harry, surrendering his wraps +to a servant.</p> + +<p>"I take you," said several, picking up the gantlet he had thrown down. +Faught had spoken first and Kennedy was chosen stake-holder. Shagarach, +meanwhile, had retired to a table in the corner and ordered some wine.</p> + +<p>"One thousand to ten I break the bank," called Harry as loudly as +before.</p> + +<p>"I will debar any man who uses that tone again," said Reddy, never +moving a muscle. His eyes were as cold and steady as the barrels of two +Derringers in the hands of a Texan train robber, and the young bravo, +though his lip curled, did not reply. His second bet was taken and the +game resumed amid its former silence.</p> + +<p>The losers repaired to the sideboard now and then and renewed their +courage with stimulants, but one or two who called for brandy were told +that no strong liquors were allowed. The little outbreak over Perley's +protest showed the wisdom of this rule. Harry Arnold's purse seemed to +be well lined to-night, for he led the play higher and higher.</p> + +<p>Shagarach held his wineglass toward the chandelier, so as to shield a +searching glance at the young man's face. Under the artificial light it +was brilliantly beautiful, the face of a man who could say to almost any +woman "Come" and she would follow him to the ends of the earth.</p> + +<p>"Do you know young Arnold?" asked Faught of Shagarach, who had just +lowered his wineglass. He began to take some notice of this large, quiet +man, who, all unobserved, was making the rounds of the room.</p> + +<p>"By sight," he answered, suppressing a yawn. "You took his bet, I +noticed?"</p> + +<p>"Only a hundred, and as good as mine already. He's bucking the reds."</p> + +<p>"Gad, Harry, you have nerve," Kennedy's pipe was heard exclaiming.</p> + +<p>"I see you don't understand," continued Faught. "There are four red +spots, you remember. Ordinarily these are not used. In the common game +it is impossible for the bank to lose, though one of the players may +win."</p> + +<p>He smiled in allusion to Shagarach's maiden try.</p> + +<p>"But sometimes the bank condescends to take a risk. Then the stakes are +high. Each player lays a thousand opposite one of the four reds. If the +needle stops over white or black, Reddy scoops the pot. But if it favors +a red the man on the spot opposite gets $5,000 from the bank and the +others quit whole. You see it's perfectly fair. Twenty blacks and whites +and four reds, that makes the odds five to one against the players. So +the bank, if red wins, quintuples the stakes all round."</p> + +<p>"But the bank twists the needle," said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all open and above board."</p> + +<p>"Do you see Reddy looking down?"</p> + +<p>"He is watching the checker board."</p> + +<p>"Why not a mirror under the table?"</p> + +<p>"What would it show?"</p> + +<p>"Two slender bar magnets crossed under the disk. His foot can rotate +them so as to underlie any four of the spots; and the needle is of +steel." Faught opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" an exclamation burst from the crowd.</p> + +<p>"That's number one," Harry Arnold was heard exulting. Followed by +Kennedy and the taker of his second bet, he crossed over to the bar.</p> + +<p>"Has Arnold set the place on fire?" asked Shagarach. It was said during +a pause of the hum and he raised his voice. In one of the facets of his +wineglass he saw Harry, who had just passed him, start and turn, but it +was impossible to tell whether the expression of his face had altered. +Certainly it was no more than a glance and he took no notice of +Shagarach. The lawyer's low stature diminished at a distance the effect +of his splendid head and eyes, which were so powerful at short range. On +the present occasion, if disguise were at all his purpose, this +insignificance was useful.</p> + +<p>"He has beaten the bank," said Faught.</p> + +<p>"A Pyrrhic victory," answered Shagarach, "and a Parthian flight." His +companion rose and sauntered behind Reddy, but either the mirror was +hidden or the bank-tender was too wary to be caught. Suddenly his harsh +voice was heard again.</p> + +<p>"Put that down, Perley."</p> + +<p>Every one looked in the direction of the youthful gambler, who had been +the center of the dispute when Shagarach and Kennedy entered. He had +brooded moodily since his loss, sitting alone at a corner table, and was +just raising a revolver to his temple when Reddy's command checked and +bewildered him. Instantly Harry Arnold, who was nearest, wrenched his +wrist and some one else secured the weapon. Perley writhed like a +madman, so that it took several minutes to quiet him. When at last his +contortions were helpless his spirit seemed to give suddenly and he +burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Shagarach felt a deep pity in his breast. The youth looked weak rather +than wicked. Possibly others, whom he loved, would suffer by his +recklessness this night. An aversion to the whole tinseled exterior, +gilding over soul-destroying corruption, came upon him and he longed +for the sight of something wholesome and pure—if only a basketful of +speckled eggs or a clothes-press hung with newly lavendered linen. But +his purpose in coming was still unfulfilled, so he merely stopped the +youth as he was passing out in dejection, accompanied by a friend.</p> + +<p>"I was luckier than you," he said, taking out the roll of bills he had +won. "Will you accept my first winnings as a loan?"</p> + +<p>Perley halted irresolutely.</p> + +<p>"They amount to $200 or so. You may have them on one condition."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"That you go immediately home."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Perley.</p> + +<p>From now on the play became more and more exciting, as the champagne +began to work in the veins of the gamblers. Once again Harry Arnold won, +then lost and lost again. Still he laid down bill after bill from a +bulky roll, sometimes leading at the simple game, oftener challenging +the bank. As luck turned against him (if luck it were) his temper +changed. He grew hilarious, but at the same time savage. Once or twice +his differences with Reddy promised to culminate in a serious quarrel, +but each time the coolness of the experienced bank-tender prevailed. +Shagarach paid no attention to Kennedy, little to Faught. He was +studying the soul of Prince Charming.</p> + +<p>When Harry came over and demanded brandy and struck the bar with his +clenched fist because he could not have it, every one knew that his wad +of crisp bills had shrunken to almost nothing. But still he would not +surrender.</p> + +<p>"The whole pile," he cried, laying the roll down opposite a red spot. It +was the same one he had played all the evening. Reddy counted the money +coolly.</p> + +<p>"A thousand is all we go," he said, returning one bill to Arnold—the +last poor remnant of Rabofsky's loan.</p> + +<p>"I challenge you to play higher. I dare you to give me my revenge."</p> + +<p>"There's only a hundred over and you'll need more than that to settle +your outside bets with," answered Reddy, as if victory for the bank were +a foregone conclusion. Three others, carried away by the force of play, +put down stakes of $1,000 each and all of the reds were covered. Reddy +snapped the needle with his forefinger as carelessly as a schoolboy +twirling a card on a pin. Four necks craned over, four lungs ceased to +draw breath, while it slowly, slowly paused.</p> + +<p>"Mine!" exulted Harry, stretching forth his hand; but Reddy intercepted +it.</p> + +<p>"The bank!" he growled.</p> + +<p>"It's on the line," said Harry, flushing.</p> + +<p>"By the rules I am judge, and I say the bank!" Reddy lowered his voice +to its most sepulchral register, while Harry raised his to a shriek.</p> + +<p>"Between man and man, but not between a player and the bank. I leave it +to these gentlemen if it wasn't on the line."</p> + +<p>"Always," answered Reddy. He snapped the needle again. Whether the +bar-magnets below had been carelessly adjusted, whether the pointer had +really rested over the line, that was a matter upon which arbitration +was now rendered forever impossible. Then he reached for the money.</p> + +<p>"You swindler!" shrieked Harry, striking at his face across the table. +Instantly Reddy's right hand, the free hand, opened a drawer and +presented a cocked revolver. His finger was on the trigger to pull, when +Shagarach gave the shout of warning.</p> + +<p>"Spies!" he cried. It was a word to strike terror. Perhaps it saved +Harry's life.</p> + +<p>During the confusion, observed of none but Shagarach, a whistle had been +heard from the outside, and the quiet man, Faught, had passed over to +one of the windows. There were only two, and these were protected by +iron shutters, which closed with a latch. The first sound heard was +Faught lifting the latch and throwing the shutters apart. A uniformed +man dropped into the room, followed by another and another. Faught +rushed behind Reddy and the second window was soon opened. All the +officers carried lanterns and clubs.</p> + +<p>"The first man who moves his little finger dies," said the foremost of +the invaders, advancing. His tone was easy and his pistol covered Reddy. +The whole room looked toward the desperado as if expecting him to do +something. He turned his revolver's muzzle quickly as if from Arnold to +the officer, but instantly his right hand was knocked up by Faught. With +his left he pressed an electric button for some daring purpose. Then the +pistol shot rang out, a moment too late, and the room was in total +darkness.</p> + +<p>The slides of the officer's lanterns, however, were opened at once, and +in a jiffy the door was guarded. Through the yellowish light Shagarach +could see tussling groups and hear cries of anger and pain. He himself +was seized and handcuffed. Presently the uproar quieted down and the +voice of the spokesman was heard ordering one of the negroes to light +up.</p> + +<p>But it was a different sight that met Shagarach's eye when the +chandeliers blazed again. The roletto table had disappeared, probably +carried downstairs by a trapdoor at Reddy's touch of the button. This +was the use for which the vacant fourth story was reserved. All around +among the smaller tables the gamblers stood like lambs, trembling and +pale in the grip of the law. In the middle of the floor lay Reddy, the +blood bubbling from a pea-sized hole that divided his left eyebrow and +gathering in a thick pool on the carpet. McCausland's bullet had flown +true to its target.</p> + +<p>Only one of the gamblers was missing.</p> + +<p>"He must have climbed out of the window," said Shagarach, sotto voce.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>LEX REX.</h3> + + +<p>Stupefaction is a weak word to express the feelings of Saul Aronson when +a messenger awakened him at 1 o'clock Thursday morning with a request +from Shagarach that he would come to police station No. 5 at once. The +attorney's assistant was never a sluggard, but the celerity with which +on this occasion he scrambled into his street clothes would have done +credit to a lightning-change artist.</p> + +<p>The police captain received him courteously, explaining, as he conducted +him to Shagarach's cell, his hesitancy about discharging the lawyer +without permission from McCausland, who had maliciously disappeared. +Both he and Shagarach were agreed that the most judicious course was to +accept a temporary release on bail, and later to secure a quashing of +the charge by an explanation to the district attorney. So Aronson set +out again to secure bail, and at 4 o'clock had the joy of seeing his +master pass down the station steps with his bondsman.</p> + +<p>It was fortunate that the affair turned out so well, for the very next +day had been set down for the hearing in the Probate court on the +settlement of Benjamin Arnold's estate.</p> + +<p>Hodgkins Hodgkins, Esq., flanked by the other two members of the firm of +Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins—namely, his brother and his nephew—was +already on his feet to address the court when Shagarach, as +representative of Robert Floyd's interest, arrived and pushed to the +front. Except for the fact that he was Prof. Arnold's oldest +acquaintance in the city, it was hard to understand the selection of +Hodgkins for the responsible position of executor over a property of +$10,000,000.</p> + +<p>A tall, withered specimen of nearly 70, thin-whiskered and jejune of +speech, you would have looked instinctively for the green bag at his +side if you had met him on the street. "Whereas" and "aforesaid" and a +dozen other legal barbarisms disfigured his rhetoric and the trick of +buttoning his coat with an important air over documents mysteriously +shuffled into his breast pocket was as natural to him as crossed legs to +a tailor.</p> + +<p>But all this pomp, ridiculous as it was, gave no promise of the +disloyalty that was to follow. From the first words of his address it +became evident that Hodgkins Hodgkins, Esq., was there not to execute +the will of his friend but to oppose its execution. Like many another +intrusted with the same office, he had transferred his allegiance from +the forgotten dead to the living who had bounty to bestow. Mrs. Arnold, +sitting among the spectators, alone, might well congratulate herself +upon a clever stroke in engaging the services of the quondam executor +for her son.</p> + +<p>"As counsel for the petitioner, Mr. Harry Arnold," said Hodgkins, +ahemming huskily, "I desire to explain to the court briefly my relation +to the case. As your honor has been informed, I enjoyed the privilege of +the testator's—or, more properly, the intestate's—acquaintance during +a period of nearly fifty years. During that period nothing, I believe, +ever occurred to mar our mutual trust and confidence. Up to six weeks +ago the deceased had never expressed any desire to alter the natural +distribution of his property after his death. Up to that time, although +approaching his seventy-ninth birthday, my honored friend had been +entirely satisfied, entirely satisfied, I repeat, with the prospects of +a division of his estate according to the laws of descent in this +commonwealth."</p> + +<p>"A statement which we deny," broke in Shagarach, sotto voce. Hodgkins +was a little nonplussed.</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand that Brother Shagarach, representing, I presume, +the interests of the other nephew, refers to some previously existing +testament?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I refer, your honor, to oral expressions of an intention to +will his entire property to the nephew who lived with him, Mr. Robert +Floyd."</p> + +<p>"There was a will drawn, which is not extant, I believe?" inquired the +judge.</p> + +<p>"There was a will drawn," answered Shagarach, "but since unfortunately +destroyed, by which Floyd was disinherited."</p> + +<p>"I opine, then"—Mr. Hodgkins frequently opined—"that Brother Shagarach +concedes the destruction of the document and is here——"</p> + +<p>"To argue for its upholding."</p> + +<p>The whole firm of Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins looked as if a +thunderbolt had struck them at this announcement. Shagarach was throwing +away Robert's share, amounting to $5,000,000.</p> + +<p>"We were not aware of this intention," said the senior member, after a +consultation, "and as to the alleged oral expressions of a purpose to +leave the—the accused nephew sole legatee—er—er in any case we should +have contested such a will on the ground of undue influence. Six weeks +ago," Hodgkins was now frowning as formidably as possible, "I received a +letter from my honored friend, informing me that he had made a will and +requesting me to assume the function of sole executor—a request which I +felt it a duty, as well as an honor, to accept."</p> + +<p>"May I see the testator's letter?" said Shagarach, breaking in.</p> + +<p>"I trust the court will accept my assurance——"</p> + +<p>"It is no question of your word. I desire to see the terms of your +appointment as executor, and request that the letter be read."</p> + +<p>"As the first step toward establishing the existence of a will," said +the judge, "upon which, I believe, both parties, all parties"—there +were several other lawyers present—"are agreed——"</p> + +<p>Hodgkins and Shagarach bowed.</p> + +<p>"The letter had best be read in evidence."</p> + +<p>There was a great diving into green bags for awhile among the Hodgkins +firm, at the end of which the senior member read the following letter:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Friend Hodgkins: You are the only one of your cursed tribe to whom +I ever got nearer than swearing distance, and our intimacy began +before you were admitted to the vulpine crew. Here I am, a +youngster of 78, anticipating death by thirty years at least and +indulging in the folly of will-making. Can you conceive anything +more absurd? I might as well think of getting insured so early in +life. But I was always excessively cautious, you know—hence my +odium advocatorum, I suppose. Can you superintend the job? Most of +my hoard goes elsewhere, but there will be some for the executor to +distribute, and you will find legal pickings in it that will pay +you. Write at once.</p> + +<p class="right">"BENJAMIN ARNOLD."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This eccentric epistle raised a smile among the lawyers, but Shagarach +was busily occupied drafting a verbatim copy while Hodgkins continued +his plea.</p> + +<p>"I was remarking," he repeated, one of his favorite introductory +formulae, "that upon receiving this request I made haste to indite a +favorable response, as I felt bound in duty and honor——"</p> + +<p>"And the prospect of pickings," added Shagarach, sotto voce, still +copying the letter. The senior member glared.</p> + +<p>"It is needless to relate the unfortunate circumstance, in which Brother +Shagarach's client is so deeply implicated, which has relieved me of +this welcome if laborious trust. The will under which I was to serve in +the capacity of executor has been destroyed—destroyed, presumably, by +the party whose hopes of a fortune is cut off, and we stand here to-day +facing the same status which existed up to six weeks ago. I say the +same—I am in error. There is an important, a melancholy difference. Six +weeks ago my friend's nephew was not an accused and all but a convicted +murderer."</p> + +<p>Hodgkins paused, as if expecting a rejoinder from Shagarach, but the +latter appeared profoundly absorbed in a telegram which Jacob had just +brought him.</p> + +<p>"The property now stands in no man's name. There is no person to whom +its dividends, its rents, its interest, constantly becoming due, can +safely be paid. Under the laws of descent its title vests equally in the +heirs-at-law, the nephews of the deceased. But there is need of an +administration, in order that the two shares may be apportioned in a +satisfactory manner. I need not again allude to the circumstance which +renders a joint administration improper and impossible, the circumstance +which explains the absence of Brother Shagarach's client——"</p> + +<p>"I do not see Brother Hodgkins' client in the courtroom," Shagarach +retorted to this sarcasm. As he spoke his eye fell on Mrs. Arnold's +haughty face.</p> + +<p>"It is certain, however, that he is not occupying a felon's cell," +answered Hodgkins. "Briefly, your honor, there is only one course open. +An administrator is urgently needed for this immense estate. In the +absence of a will, the heirs-at-law, being of age, would naturally be +selected, but under the circumstances I respectfully suggest that the +younger of the two nephews is debarred and that your honor's choice +should fall upon the elder, a college graduate, a young man who moves in +the highest social circles, and who has not, I believe, the honor of an +acquaintance with the inmates and turnkeys of the state prison."</p> + +<p>Hodgkins had hardly sat down after this acrid peroration when Shagarach +was on his feet.</p> + +<p>"I have only a few words to say at present. The case is by no means so +simple as my learned brother imagines. My learned brother assumes that +the physical destruction of the will has involved the extinction of its +contents. So mature an advocate does not need to be reminded that parol +proof of the contents of a will, of its accuracy in technical form, and +of its existence unrevoked at the time of the testator's death, are +equivalent in law to the presentation of the document itself.</p> + +<p>"We have in the court-room today a number of witnesses who will testify +to the contents of the will. We have the witnesses who signed it to +prove its compliance with statutory requirements as to form; and I do +not understand that Brother Hodgkins denies that the paper was in +existence until destroyed at the Arnold fire."</p> + +<p>"You object, then, to the issuance of administration papers to Mr. Harry +Arnold?" asked the judge.</p> + +<p>"Emphatically. We desire to uphold the will. Brother Hodgkins has +introduced evidence as to the making of a will in the letter which he +read. I should like to put in evidence now the testimony of the three +witnesses to the signature."</p> + +<p>When the three witnesses had sworn to Prof. Arnold's acknowledgment in +their presence of the will, to their own attestation of his signature, +and to the date, June 7, of these occurrences, another lawyer, who +appeared to act in concert with Shagarach, briefly announced his +guardianship of the interests of the heirs of Ellen Greeley, a legatee +in the sum of $1,000. After recounting the long and meritorious services +of the dead domestic, he called upon her sister to testify to several +conversations in which she had referred to the professor's generous +remembrance of her in his will.</p> + +<p>"It is proper to state at this point," said Shagarach, "that the other +servant, Bertha Lund, is not represented here by counsel, but there is +evidence to show that she was remembered in the same manner as her +colleague."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Christenson was thereupon called and deposed, exactly as Ellen +Greeley's sister had done, to the several conversations in which Bertha +had referred to her employer's liberality.</p> + +<p>"Until yesterday evening," said Shagarach, "Bertha Lund was employed in +the country house of Mrs. Arnold at Hillsborough. A telegram, however, +sent to the station-master at that place, brings the answer that Miss +Lund took the outward-bound train at 5:21 this morning, being alone and +accoutred with a large baggage trunk. I doubt, therefore, if this +important witness as to the contents of the will can readily be found."</p> + +<p>While he made this statement Shagarach searched Mrs. Arnold's face. Her +gaze shifted and she perceptibly whitened. Then the rise of still +another lawyer, also seeming to act in concert with Shagarach, drew +attention to the court. The new attorney represented, as he immediately +informed the judge, certain charitable institutions which had been +remembered under the clauses of the will—namely, the Duxborough +institution for the blind, of which the professor, who had himself been +operated on for cataract, had been throughout his life a conspicuous +supporter; the Woodlawn home for consumptives, the dipsomaniac hospital, +the Magdalen reformatory, the asylum for idiots and the Christian +orphanage. Letters were read from Prof. Arnold to the superintendents of +each of these institutions, requesting them to accept legacies of +$20,000 each under the will which he had just drawn. The letters were +couched in a stereotyped form and all dated alike.</p> + +<p>But the most significant testimony of the day was contained in the last +document which this attorney presented—a letter.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Silsby himself," he explained, "is detained from attendance at this +hearing by important scientific labors in the west."</p> + +<p>The mention of Dr. Jonas Silsby's name caused the eyebrows of the +Hodgkins firm to elevate themselves unanimously in a manner which +amusingly accented the facial resemblance of the members. Jonas Silsby +had been a pupil of Prof. Arnold and was at present the most +distinguished arboreal botanist in the country. Along with some of his +master's eccentricities, such as vegetarianism, he had imbibed much of +his independence and noble honor. He was, moreover, Robert Floyd's most +intimate friend, bridging, as it were, by the full vigor of his +fifty-odd years, the great gap of half a century which separated the +boyish nephew from his octogenarian uncle.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arnold's quick smoothing with her finger of an imaginary loose +lock—the characteristic feminine gesture of embarrassment—did not +escape Shagarach's lustrous glance. The letter was worded as quaintly as +the other:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My Dear Jonas: Rob has gone back on me, God bless him, the rogue, +and you've got to take my dollars. I know you don't want them, but +I'm going to commit inverse larceny just the same. I'll grab you by +the throat and stuff your pockets with gold, though you bellow +like an ox. You know what it's all about. We've talked it over +often enough. And I want it called the 'Arnold academia,' too. If +agriculture stops going to the dogs in this country through the +preaching of the dons my hoard keeps in shoe leather, then I want +the credit of it for my ghost downstairs. It'll need some comfort, +Jonas. But don't suppose I dream of quitting you yet, my boy, and +don't expect all of the pudding I've baked. There will be some +plums for the asylums, and some for the servants, and Rob, the +young rogue, has got to be provided for, willy-nilly. This is only +a hint, but verbum sap. We'll talk it over when you come east +again, with your pouches full of seeds. Here's good luck to you, +Jonas. It is God's world, anyway, and not the devil's. Your old +friend,</p> + +<p class="right">"BENJAMIN ARNOLD."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Dr. Silsby explains," added the lawyer, "that the allusion in the text +to an academia refers to a cherished project for elevating the position +of the American farmer. The idea was to establish a great agricultural +university. It had been a frequent subject of discussion between them, +and nothing could be more natural than that Dr. Silsby should be +selected as president of the institution."</p> + +<p>"And trustee of its funds," added Shagarach, looking at the senior +member of the bewildered firm of Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins. Then the +court adjourned for lunch.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>TWO STEPS FORWARD AND ONE TO THE REAR.</h3> + + +<p>At the afternoon session Mrs. Arnold was found at her place, still +unaccompanied by her son. Five lawyers had already outlined their +standpoints to the judge, but still there were new complications in +store. Lawyer Howell was Shagarach's earliest opponent, the Goliath of +his first great duel. He contented himself with stating his intention to +attach Floyd's share of the property in behalf of the insurance +companies and proprietors who had suffered loss through the crime with +which he was charged. He was of opinion that the evidence offered to +uphold the will lacked particularity and was insufficient——</p> + +<p>"Brother Howell is not here as associate justice." Shagarach was on his +feet in a flash. "His opinions are impertinences, too manifestly +dictated by his interests. Naturally the insurance companies and +burned-out proprietors desire to break this will, in order that Robert +Floyd may take the $5,000,000 which he does not want and they may join +the hue and cry of the other conspirators against an innocent man."</p> + +<p>Howell was protesting against such a suggestion, when he was interrupted +by a roar from one of the learned brethren who had been impatiently +waiting his turn.</p> + +<p>"I speak for the murdered girls," he cried, "whose pure young blood +stains the hands of that guilty monster, and in the name of their +bleeding corpses and young lives, ruthlessly done to death, I utter my +protest against the imputation of innocence to their slayer."</p> + +<p>The auditors, who had begun to drowse over the technical details of the +case, were stirred to attention at once by this declamatory opening. +Even Saul Aronson, sleepy from his restless night, checked a yawn midway +with his fingers and turned around. The new speaker was a middle-sized, +burly man, whose most conspicuous feature was a projection of the flesh +beneath the outer corners of his eyebrows, so as to bury the eyes and +give his whole face an expression almost Mongolian in its cunning. His +clothes were seedy, and his remarks punctuated by amber-colored shots at +the cuspidor. Altogether it was a decidedly rakish craft and the look on +Judge Dunder's face was by no means propitious.</p> + +<p>"It is an axiom of law," said the orator, waving his hand and executing +a demi-volt toward the spectators, "that no man can take advantage of +his own tort. I hereby accuse Robert Floyd of the murder of my +clients——"</p> + +<p>"Who are your clients?" interrupted the judge.</p> + +<p>"Mary and Florence Lacy, two virtuous maidens, the sunshine of a happy +home, the pride of a loving and admiring circle of friends"—just here +came one of the orator's punctuation points, which produced a sadly +antithetical effect—"the comforts of a bereaved mother's heart——"</p> + +<p>An old lady in the audience burst into tears. Presumably it was Mrs. +Lacy. This tribute to his eloquence warmed the orator to a mighty +outburst.</p> + +<p>"Woe, I say, to that ruthless hand! Perdition gripe that marble +heart——"</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly make your statements relevant?" The judge's manner was +arctic. "We are considering the disposition of Benjamin Arnold's +estate."</p> + +<p>"I beg to interpose." Hodgkins had seen a ray of hope in the utterances +of the last two speakers. Slack, the grandiloquent, was a bibulous +shyster, who made a precarious livelihood by imposing on just such +victims as Mrs. Lacy, but at this juncture he might prove a useful ally. +"Brother Slack is not unnaturally, I may say most creditably, carried +away by his feelings on behalf of his clients; and I, for one, heartily +join him in opposing the efforts which have been made here today to put +the means of redress for those—er—unhappy victims beyond their +reach—or, rather, to reduce them to a paltry $20,000."</p> + +<p>"Twenty thousand dollars!" shrieked Slack. "Who dares insult the +sanctity of human life by estimating its value at such a bagatelle. I +say not $20,000,000 would recompense that weeping mother for the loss of +the children of her bosom."</p> + +<p>With pointed finger he held up the grief of the now blushing and +embarrassed woman to the curious gaze of the crowd. Then, wearied of his +vulgarity, and confident of a case already complete, Shagarach rose and +immediately drew all eyes and ears.</p> + +<p>"Brother Slack has unwittingly uttered the strongest argument of the day +in favor of the request which I make—a request, be it understood, for +postponement only, until sufficient time elapses to permit the contents +of this will to be demonstrated. Brother Slack assumes the guilt of my +client in a criminal cause now pending. Brother Howell assumes it; +Brother Hodgkins, in asking you to exclude him from the +administratorship, also assumes it. This is a new doctrine of law, to +adjudge a man guilty without according him an opportunity for defense. I +ask your honor to consider the stigma which the choice of Harry Arnold +as sole administrator would cast upon Robert Floyd, and the prejudice it +would work him in the cause I have mentioned.</p> + +<p>"But, aside from this, I ask you to consider the chain of evidence +presented as to the will itself. Let us keep in mind that will is only +legalized wish. I am aware that great particularity is required in such +cases as ours. But when your honor reviews the statements of Martha +Greeley, of Mrs. Christenson, of the six superintendents of institutions +of charity, and of Dr. Silsby—yes, and I will add the letter to Brother +Hodgkins, who, it now appears, was to stand as executor only of that +small residue of the estate which did not go to the founding of the +Arnold academia—when your honor reviews these I am convinced that you +will agree that the disposition of this vast property is not a matter to +be hastily determined.</p> + +<p>"My brother has referred to the supposed advantage reaped by Floyd from +the destruction of the will. Floyd is not here to speak for himself, but +he has contended consistently that the reduction of his legacy to +$20,000 was made at his own request, and that even that small sum was in +excess of his wishes. Read as I read them, the expressions of endearment +in the letter to Dr. Silsby support this statement. They are not the +language of an irate testator, used in reference to a disinherited heir. +Allow me, moreover," Shagarach was now looking straight at Mrs. Arnold, +"to point out that Robert Floyd was not the only gainer by the +destruction of Prof. Arnold's will. What atom of evidence has been +adduced to show that the testator remembered Harry Arnold?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arnold started and reddened at the mention of her son's name. Then +she put her handkerchief to her lips and coughed nervously. Shagarach's +glance was just long enough to avoid attracting general attention toward +her.</p> + +<p>"For these reasons I ask that your honor schedule a second hearing of +this important cause, to take place after a complete survey of the +evidence shall have demonstrated that not Robert Floyd but another is +responsible for the death of Mary and Florence Lacy."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arnold's trembling was painfully apparent, and there was nothing in +Hodgkins' feeble and desultory reply to give her hope.</p> + +<p>"I will take the matter under consideration," said Judge Dunder, when he +had closed, and Shagarach knew that a severe blow at Robert's +reputation, as well as a timely relief to the Arnold purse, had been +prevented by that morning's work.</p> + +<p>There were fewer clients than usual in the office when he returned. One +of them, a large man, immediately arose.</p> + +<p>"I am Patrolman Chandler," said he.</p> + +<p>"What can we do for each other?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, perhaps." The policeman drew an envelope from his pocket and +showed a lemon-colored glove inside. "Will that help you any?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. It has a story?"</p> + +<p>"A short one. That glove's been in my pocket ever since I was taken to +the hospital when the girl fell on me. Never thought of it; hardly knew +it was there. Had broken bones to think of, you know."</p> + +<p>"I read of your bravery at the fire."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! Well, here's the history of that article. I know Floyd; have +known him ever since I took that route. Things look blue for the boy, +but I never heard harm of him before, and says I to myself, yesterday +when I found the glove, perhaps Mr. Shagarach can turn this to good +account, and perhaps he can't. It's worth trying, and if it saves +Floyd's neck, why, it's no more'n I'd like to have him do for me if our +positions were just right about."</p> + +<p>"That's the golden rule, stated in the vernacular. Where did you find +this?"</p> + +<p>"On the stairs in the Arnold house."</p> + +<p>"After the fire?"</p> + +<p>"When I went into the house at the beginning."</p> + +<p>"How was it lying?"</p> + +<p>"About the middle of the staircase, I believe."</p> + +<p>"A little to the left, with the fingers pointing to the door?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly—close to the wall."</p> + +<p>"It is a right-hand glove. He was carrying it in his left hand and +dropped it when running downstairs." Shagarach said this sotto voce, as +if to himself.</p> + +<p>"Who? Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"The incendiary."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I ever saw young Floyd with gloves on except in +winter. Seems too loud for him anyway—more like some swell's."</p> + +<p>"You will leave this with me?"</p> + +<p>"Glad to, glad if it helps you," said the officer, rising to go. +Shagarach took his hand and thanked him, then tried on the glove and +studied it for fully five minutes before admitting his regular clients. +If it were Floyd's the case had neither gained nor lost. But he felt +that the kid was too fine, the make too fashionable, for the eccentric +young radical, who, as Chandler had noticed, never wore gloves except +for protection against the cold. There was no hint of identity about it. +Had it belonged to Harry Arnold? If so, how did it happen to lie on the +stairs of his uncle's house immediately after the fire?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The island fort was a many-angled specimen of ancient masonry, following +the shore line of an islet in the harbor. It was useless now. No flag +streamed from its pole. Passing vessels no longer saluted it, only a +lame old sergeant being about to protect the property. By an arrangement +with the local authorities it had been converted into a pleasure-ground +and connected with an adjacent peninsular of the city by a pier or +bridge of half a mile's length. This was the rendezvous mentioned by the +anonymous correspondent.</p> + +<p>When Shagarach stepped from the car on his way to meet Mr. +Skull-and-Crossbones he found that he was early. It still wanted twenty +minutes to the appointed hour. The humanity of the district was just +rising from its supper tables in teeming tenements to enjoy the cool +liberty of the twilight air, and Shagarach listened to the sayings of +the multitude whose current he found himself stemming. They were flowing +to an open-air concert at some point behind him. The correspondent had +timed his evening well for a lonely conference.</p> + +<p>As he approached the pier the crowd thinned and at last he found himself +walking near the water alone. Ships were putting into port, with red and +green caution lights hung aloft. The sea, now violet, melted into the +sky and a gathering dimness subdued everything to one tone. Only the +black tree-masses and the outlines of the houses stood out somberly +distinct.</p> + +<p>"We violate nature," said Shagarach to himself, "with our angular, +unsightly houses, but she puts her own fairer version on all at +last—mosses the manse, curves the beach, litters the ruin, bathes the +hard carpentry and mason work of the city with soft twilight balm." He +looked back upon the sad accumulation of misery, amid whose foulest reek +he was doomed to live. A greenish tint hung over it where the sunset had +sunk. It was a rare hue for the heavens to wear—something bizarre yet +beautiful, like yellow roses.</p> + +<p>Thus far Shagarach had walked alone. Leaning over the railing on the +right, he saw three boys fishing in a dory below. One of them was just +lighting a lantern, for the thick dusk had begun to gather. The +penetrating silence favored their occupation and he paused a moment to +watch the silver-bellied mackerel slapping their bodies in the basket. A +little farther on an oafish monster stood against the railing on the +left. Shagarach thought he leered mirthlessly when their eyes met.</p> + +<p>Then at the middle of the pier he came to a closed gate, shutting off +access to the island.</p> + +<p>"No admission to the fort after 7 p. m.——" He had started to read the +placard, when suddenly he felt himself seized from behind. A hand over +his mouth throttled the outcry he launched. It was too late to reach +for the revolver. A brief, fierce trial of strength and he found +himself forced over the railing into the water. The shock, to one who +had never entered the ocean before, was icy as death.</p> + +<p>His senses did not depart from him. He made an effort to lie still on +the surface and to hold his breath. A hideous face projected over the +railing, printed itself on his memory, and then disappeared. He knew +that he clutched his assailant's cap in his right hand, and that the +lights of the city were dancing before him as he rose and sunk. Then the +only thing he felt was the gurgling of the deep, dark water nearer, +nearer, nearer. How to fight it off? His hands wildly strove to push it +away. All the sweetness of the world he was leaving flashed through him +in one pregnant second, whereupon his resolution yielded. He opened his +lips to utter the fatal "Help!" of the drowning man, and the element +rushed in and made him its own.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>THE BREWING STORM.</h3> + + +<p>Friday was to be the last day of Warden Tapp's tenure, and Robert was +aware that the convicts had determined to celebrate his removal by some +demonstration of their joy. Everybody was dissatisfied with his +government—the public, his deputies, his charges, alike. Stalking about +with that inveterate preference for his own company which had won him +the nickname of "The Pelican," he gnawed his huge mustache in a manner +that seemed to betray that he was not oversatisfied with the results +himself.</p> + +<p>The prison which he had taken from his predecessor, as orderly as any +barracks the world over, he left to his successor (a military man) +slovenly, rebellious and tunneled with secret avenues of communication +to the outside world. He had begun with leniency and a smiling face. +Vice, indolence and a thousand weedy growths flourished up under his +elevated chin. When he awoke at last his rigor in uprooting them was +intemperate and ineffectual. Several felons escaped. A riot broke out +and the warden had been helplessly holding the reins behind a runaway +horse ever since.</p> + +<p>He had flogged men for not saluting when he passed, yet he was hooted at +every time he showed his head to the crowd. He had strung three +brushmakers up by the thumbs for idling, yet every shop except the +harness-makers, in spite of free labor, showed a deficit for the last +half-year. The cells were so littered with storage that it was almost +impossible to enter them. Contraband tobacco, gift books, tools, bird +cages, shirts and shoes smuggled from the workshops, even knives and +revolvers, were found in them.</p> + +<p>The "block," or dark dungeon, was always full. If some dozen of the +conniving deputies had been sent there, Warden Tapp might have had less +to extenuate.</p> + +<p>"It's quiet this evening," said Robert to Dobbs on Thursday.</p> + +<p>"That's the lull before the storm, my boy," said the cracksman.</p> + +<p>"You think we'll have trouble, then?"</p> + +<p>"Keep your 'ead in, my boy, when it rains. These 'ere coves 'll get a +wetting that'll spoil their Sunday duds. They 'aven't no hart."</p> + +<p>"No what?"</p> + +<p>"No hart, no hingenuity. They hask first and then try to take it. We'll +take what we want first—honly a little fresh air, Bobbs—and then we'll +hask for it, as a matter of form. Hi'm horfully punctilious on forms, +Bobbs."</p> + +<p>Dobbs chuckled at the prospect of writing a letter to the warden, +requesting his release from the safe distance of 3,000 miles.</p> + +<p>"Hi ain't the fool of the family, ham Hi, Bobbs?"</p> + +<p>"Who's that talking now, Dobbs?"</p> + +<p>"The thick-mouthed cove wot gets choked with 'is hown Adam's happle? +That's Quirk."</p> + +<p>"Quirk?" It was the familiar voice he had often tried to place, but +Floyd knew nobody named Quirk.</p> + +<p>"What is he grumbling for? Is he a ring-leader among the men?"</p> + +<p>"Ring-leader, ho, no. Ee lost 'is temper the first time ee saw 'is mug +in the quicksilver and ee's never found it since."</p> + +<p>This conversation had been conducted face to face in the dark through +the aperture formed by the removal of four bricks on each side of the +partition. Dobbs had already outlined a general plan to Robert by which +they were to escape. He was only waiting, he said, for his "chummy" to +"drop the sweet hinnocence game and hown up ee wasn't a lamb."</p> + +<p>"So you expect me to climb through that hole, Dobbs?"</p> + +<p>"If you won't gnaw your hown bars, you must."</p> + +<p>"It's too small."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll stretch her till she fits, as the 'aberdasher said when 'is +royal 'ighness' trousers didn't meet round 'is royal 'ighness' +waistband."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if even six will be wide enough. The bricks are only eight by +four apiece, and I think I'm more than sixteen by twelve."</p> + +<p>"Can a cat jump through a keyhole? No-sirree. But a corpuscle can wiggle +through a capillary."</p> + +<p>About 11 o'clock the next morning the entire prison force was summoned +to the rotunda to hear the farewell address of the warden. The rotunda +was a great round hall at one end of the bastile, or prison proper, +communicating through two double doors with the warden's office, from +which it was only a step to the street. Looking around at the desperate +gallery of 600 faces, all shaven, but ill-shaven, and most of them +brutal from the indulgence of hateful passions, Robert thought how small +a chance the forty keepers stood if that sullen herd should ever +stampede.</p> + +<p>But the walls of the rotunda were undressed bowlders of granite and the +windows all around were double-barred with iron rods that looked strong +enough to hold up a mountain. Only the rear doors were vulnerable at +all, and these simply led through the kitchen to the cells, or right and +left into the yard, at the end of which, and all along one side, +abutting the rotunda, were the workshops, while the other side was +impregnable with its twenty-foot wall.</p> + +<p>Flanked by Gradger and Longlegs, the Pelican rose to address his +mutineers. At his approach there was such a tremendous joggling in the +crowd, that for a time it looked as if the volcano would burst then and +there. But three spokesmen who had wriggled their way to the front +stepped forward with their hands clasped over their heads as a token of +peaceful intentions and requested the privilege of a word to the warden. +They were all marked men, undergoing long sentences and recognized as +dangerous criminals. The difference of type between them was conspicuous +as they stood in front of the surging crowd—Dickon Harvey, the Right +Spur and Minister Slick.</p> + +<p>Dickon Harvey was a diamond thief, polished in person and of fluent +address. Like those madmen in asylums whom the casual visitor finds +perfectly rational and indeed delightful companions, Dickon Harvey never +failed to convince callers at the prison of his moral sanity. He +admitted past misuse of undeniable talents, though stoutly denying the +particular crime upon which he was sentenced. His legends of early +temptation and ambition to reform had softened the heart of many a +philanthropist to pity. But his cold eye glittered with a point of light +sharp enough to cut the Koh-i-noor, and a turnkey of exceptional ability +was assigned to the ward which contained Dickon Harvey.</p> + +<p>The Right Spur derived his sobriquet from his position as head of the +rooster gang. There was little of what Dobbs called "hart" in his line +of work, which consisted simply in sandbagging and garroting picked-up +acquaintances or passers-by. But in the crude occupation of the footpad +he had displayed a brute daring that had surrounded his name with +associations of terror, and this diabolical halo had been brightened and +enlarged by his turbulence in jail. He was middle-sized and +barrel-built, with the complexion of a teamster, a wicked smile and a +scar.</p> + +<p>Minister Slick's career would be pictured by a line more excursive than +the diagram with which Sterne represents the history of Tristram Shandy. +His criminal twist had begun just where most men's end. Up to the age of +forty he had been able to delude several congregations into a belief in +his fitness for the sacred ministry. His sermons had been noted no less +for unction than for orthodoxy, their only heresies being grammatical +ones. Then came a fall, sudden and irretrievable. In a few months he had +developed unusual skill as a confidence man, in which he was aided by a +certain oiliness of manner and insinuating ease of speech. He was tall +and dignified, with a long gray beard, which Tapp permitted him to wear +on account of a chronic quinsy, though his kennel-mates whispered this +was all in your eye—a strange location to be sure, for a clergyman's +sore throat—but minute veracity was never expected of Minister Slick.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Warden," said Dickon Harvey, "I am desired, with my +fellow-spokesmen, by the entire community, to tender you our deepest +respect upon your retirement from the office whose duties you have so +conscientiously fulfilled."</p> + +<p>Tapp's lips quivered. Was this irony or praise?</p> + +<p>"If you have not always met with success, if our interests and yours +have seemed to clash at times, believe me there are few among us who do +not appreciate that the fault is in the system and not the man."</p> + +<p>"The system, the system," there rose a murmur among the men, which died +away like a stifled cry when Longlegs raised his gun.</p> + +<p>"We have read with interest the article on 'Prison Discipline,' +contributed by you to the last number of the Penological Quarterly, and +the petition we present is, we believe, in line with most of the reforms +you suggest."</p> + +<p>"You desire to present me a petition. Of what value is that? Col. +Mainwaring enters to-morrow. It belongs to him."</p> + +<p>"A recommendation from yourself, Mr. Warden," answered Minister Slick, +"would surely have great weight."</p> + +<p>"What is the burden of your document?"</p> + +<p>Dickon Harvey removed a paper from his "budge."</p> + +<p>"A seriatim schedule of the reforms which we respectfully ask to be +enacted."</p> + +<p>"Take the paper to your office," whispered Longlegs to the warden, but +the obstinate official only flushed angrily at his presumption.</p> + +<p>"I will hear what you have to say," he said, weakly clutching at this +last hope of favor among the convicts. Dickon Harvey proceeded to read +his production.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"To the Warden of Georgetown State Prison: We, the undersigned, +being inmates of your institution and the chief sufferers by its +irregularities of government, hereby offer and present the +following schedule of reforms which we regard as necessary——"</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Necessary," emphasized the Right Spur, and nearly 500 heads wagged +approval.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Necessary to the quiet and welfare of the community.</p> + +<p>"1. That the grotesque, degrading, uncomfortable and unhealthful +striped garb which we are at present condemned to wear be exchanged +for a uniform of gray woolen goods.</p> + +<p>"2. That the practice of shaving, designed to destroy our +self-respect and efface all evidences of our former and better +identity, be abolished, and each man allowed free choice in the +matter of his personal appearance, which concerns himself so deeply +and nobody else at all.</p> + +<p>"3. That intervals of conversation be allowed among the whist +parties. (This was the local name of the shop-gang, who, under the +existing system, were compelled to work amid a silence as absolute +as that of a Trappist monastery.)</p> + +<p>"4. That the dunce-cap rule be suspended and workers who happen to +be unemployed for a few moments be allowed to sit at their benches +instead of standing face to the wall.</p> + +<p>"5. That the cat-o'-nine-tails and thumb-screw be abolished and +punishment limited to the block or extension of sentence, and that +the rules for shortening of sentence on account of good behavior be +made more liberal.</p> + +<p>"6. That the tobacco rations and weekly prune stew be restored.</p> + +<p>"7. That the cells be lighted until 9 o'clock with a gas-jet in +each, and reading or writing allowed.</p> + +<p>"8. That Ezra C. Hawkins, Kenneth Douglas, Murtagh McMorrow and +Johann Koerber be discharged for inordinate and unnecessary +severity and cruelty."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This article was greeted with a swell of cheers and taunts which Tapp +seemed impotent to quell.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"9. That favoritism and privilege shall be a thing unknown."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Another bellow greeted this, and Floyd knew from the glance that the +clause was a blow at himself. The cell he occupied was known as "the +parlor" from its greater width, its ventilation and its possession of a +reading-table and cupboard. There was jealousy, moreover, because he had +been allowed to do light work about the greenhouse (which he was +entirely competent to supervise, from his botanical knowledge) instead +of being put at a bench. They forgot that his status was different from +theirs. The labor was quite voluntary.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"10. That the indeterminate sentence be put into effect, so that +through the specious pretext of punishing crime, the abominable +crime of depriving peaceable and perfectly harmless citizens, who +have bitterly atoned for some past peccadillo and earnestly desire +to demonstrate their change of spirit to the world, be not +committed under the sanction of law."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Harvey handed the petition to Tapp. It was, on the whole, an enlightened +document. Two of the men who prepared it were probably as able as any of +the officials of the prison. Robert could see the different hands at +work in its composition. The "past peccadilloes" were Dickon Harvey's +"flim-flam" adventures, while the demands for more tobacco, for Hawkins' +removal and the reduction of his own "privilege" were a concession to +the ruffian element, represented by the Right Spur of the Rooster gang. +Yet several of the recommendations were as wise and sound as though all +the prison associations in the country had indorsed them.</p> + +<p>"Prisoners——" Tapp started to reply.</p> + +<p>"No gammon," interrupted the Right Spur, scowling, while a hundred other +scowls immediately gathered on the foreheads of his particular +followers.</p> + +<p>Tapp colored again. His obstinacy was aroused. He was not a timid man.</p> + +<p>"It would be a breach of courtesy toward my successor to offer him such +suggestions. I do not propose to recommend the discharge of employes +whose only offense is their fidelity to duty; neither do I propose to +constitute myself the spokesman of a mob of law-breakers."</p> + +<p>A hiss—the most hateful sound that issues from the human throat, with +its serpentine suggestions and its vagueness of origin—greeted this +challenge. The keepers gripped their guns, awaiting an order, but the +Pelican stood helpless, furious, perplexed.</p> + +<p>"To the shops!" he cried at last, and the triumphant convicts were +driven like a herd of cattle to their tables and tools. There were +muffled yells from the offenders buried in the block when they passed +it; and at dinner, when the men filed up to the kitchen slide and +carried off their platters of bread and pork, a dozen unruly boarders +were only subdued to moderate quiet at the rifle's point.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>A BATTLE IN THE ROTUNDA.</h3> + + +<p>At 2 o'clock the alarm bell rang out thirteen ominous notes. This was +the fire-box of the prison. The flames had broken out in the +wicker-workers' shop, where the younger and lighter convicts plaited +summer chairs, flower-stands and all kinds of basket articles. On a high +throne set against the middle of one wall sat Johann Koerber, the deputy +in charge, overseeing everything, pistol in hand. He was a Titan of 300 +pounds, who might have proved admirable in his proper work of putting +maniacs in strait-jackets. But his selection as overseer of the +work-rooms was another instance of Tapp's want of judgment. For all his +formidable strength, Koerber lacked the power to govern. The slenderest +boy did not fear him, while even "papa," the giant negro who loaded the +teams, stood in awe of "Slim" Butler, the lightweight deputy who had +charge of the harness-makers. Right under Koerber's eye, the match was +applied in several places, and almost before he smelled smoke the canes +and osiers were on fire.</p> + +<p>Then came the wild riot. In every shop but "Slim" Butler's the officer +in charge was overpowered before the alarm bell had ceased ringing. +Butler held his men down by sheer strength of will, until the sight of +others rushing about in the yard below drove the men at the windows to +frenzy, and with the loss of one of their number the brave deputy was +disarmed, mangled, crushed. Brushmakers, tailors, shoemakers, saddlers, +teamsters and handy men, all streamed from the workshop doors, making by +concert toward the wire pole in the middle of the yard. Here the Right +Spur was executing a dangerous but ingenious maneuver.</p> + +<p>Astride of the cross-bars of the pole, which he had climbed in full view +of a dozen deputies, he was cutting the thick telephone wire with a huge +pair of shears. The thing could be done in twenty seconds if his +confederates mobbed the keepers below, and it might mean a delay of +twenty minutes in the arrival of re-enforcements from the nearest +station. Stupefied and absorbed, the convict crew were gazing upward at +their chief on his perilous perch, when the tall form of Hawkins was +seen striding down from the bath-room entrance. The other deputies had +contented themselves with fronting the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, +rifles leveled, like a herd of musk-bulls with lowered horns defending +their females against wolves or men. Hawkins raised his rifle and fired.</p> + +<p>The bullet missed its mark and the crack of the powder roused the +convicts from their stupor. With a bestial cry and faces on fire, the +forward rank, pushed on by those behind, swept down on the group of +deputies. Chisels, mallets, hammers, tools and weapons of all kinds from +a wheel-spoke to a blunderbuss were brandished in their hands. One +volley and the deputies fled—all but Hawkins. Almost simultaneously, +it seemed, the second barrel of his rifle hurled its missile, the Right +Spur was seen to drop from his post, dragging the severed wire with him +to the ground, and "Longlegs" himself was felled, bleeding and +senseless, with a heavy bottle.</p> + +<p>The mob would have been glad to outrage his body, but time was precious +and Dickon Harvey had already sped to the north corner of the "bastile" +and was beckoning and summoning his men to follow. They rushed in his +wake, turned one corner of the bastile and then another, gave a great +shout of joy as they saw the wide outlet of freedom before them.</p> + +<p>The bastile was the great granite castle which contained the cells, a +continuation of the rotunda. It projected into the yard, leaving a wide +space at one end and at both sides. On the opposite side from that in +which the shops were located stood the greenhouses, where Robert Floyd +was accustomed to work whenever he wearied of writing. He had been +crouching under the slant glass roof of the conservatory, snipping off +the dead leaves, when the alarm bell sounded. The cries on the other +side of the bastile brought him out on the open grass plot, and he was +standing there, scissors in hand, when the convict pack swept toward him +around the angle 100 yards away. At the same time he heard the impatient +bells of the fire-engines jingling up the street.</p> + +<p>The riot had been ably planned. Over on this side of the yard stood the +entrance for teams. It was this point that the fire engines from without +and the convicts from within were making for together. The alternative +offered was that of letting the workshops burn or of emptying the jail +of its inmates. Outside there was a ponderous iron gate, guarded by a +deputy. Within this a stout one of oak wood, which a convict was +detailed to open and shut. This convict was no other than Minister +Slick, who had persuaded the warden to assign him to this light duty on +the score of advancing age and feebleness.</p> + +<p>Minister Slick's door was only open a crack. He was too cunning to give +the deputy outside a view of the convicts racing down the yard. Not +until the outer iron gate was swung back and the fire horses came +galloping along did he throw his own gate in, without any marked +evidence of "feebleness." The fire engine burst through; the convicts +were at hand. Before the heavy iron gate outside could be shut they +would be down upon its guardian and he would be swept aside like a +sapling before the moose.</p> + +<p>Floyd was quick to take in the situation and quick to choose his course +of action. The deputies were flying in every direction before the +victorious mob. A hundred yards can be covered in a very few seconds, +even by men who are not professional sprinters. The wooden gate must not +remain open.</p> + +<p>The fire engine shielded him from the gaze of Minister Slick, who had +drawn a revolver, but, not daring to attack the outside deputy alone, +stood awaiting the onset of his fellow-prisoners. Robert was upon him in +an instant and drove the greenhouse scissors into his neck, then thrust +him aside, swung the door to with a mighty shove and turned just in time +to dodge the rush of the maddened convicts.</p> + +<p>Fifty of them flung themselves against the gate. It groaned but held +firm. The original oak had buffeted winter gales fiercer than this, when +the sap was in its veins and its green leaves rustled about the +spreading branches. Like a wave of ocean breaking into foam against a +cliff the oncoming mob scattered and reeled back in indecision. Several +of them made at Robert, hurling their weapons at his flying form. Others +ran along the great wall, like tigers along their cage bars, as if +feeling for an opening. Only Dickon Harvey, from the moment that the +inner gate clanged, had stood still in the middle of the clashing +throng, turning his head to and fro and studying the situation. He was +not slow to make up his mind.</p> + +<p>"Out by the rotunda!" he shouted, waving his hand, and the whole rabble +was making for the rotunda before the fire-horses had rounded the angle +of the bastile at the other end of the yard.</p> + +<p>Now Robert, hemmed in by a broad line of 400 armed opponents, had +already chosen this outlet of escape for himself. He had foiled their +plan and it would go hard with him if he and they should remain within +these prison walls alone. There was a possibility that the flying +deputies had left the rotunda doors ajar, since they were so heavy as to +require several seconds to open and shut. So through the kitchen, up the +iron stairs and across the tiled floor of the rotunda he sped, with the +foremost of the pursuers almost at his heels. Only one deputy, Gradger, +opposed himself to his progress, gun in hand, and Robert eluded him with +the ease of a football dodger.</p> + +<p>Both doors were ajar, the outer one, however, only a dozen inches or +less. Perhaps twenty feet lay between him and safety. He had almost +flung himself upon the knob, when a man coming toward him from the +outside forestalled his purpose and drew the door to with a clang. It +was Tapp, who from his office, unable to rally his routed deputies, was +rushing to the scene of the riot, determined to retrieve by a last act +of courage the numberless shortcomings of his administration.</p> + +<p>Robert's predicament was fearful. The door barred egress, the dogs were +at his heels. Something of the cowering awe that benumbs the stag when +his legs at last tremble under him and he turns to face the baying pack +swept through his breast for an instant. But it was no more than an +instant, for the young man's blood was roused and it was not unmixed +with iron. With a leap at the knob and a mighty tug he drew the inner +door between himself and the criminals.</p> + +<p>A snarl, hardly human, burst from hundreds of throats when they saw this +last avenue closed. The thick glass of the door was splintered in a +jiffy and vicious hands, armed with bludgeons and cutting tools, +stretched through the bars at the traitor who had twice cheated them. As +green displaces yellow in the chameleon's coat, so a wave of revenge +suddenly swept aside the hope of escape in the temper of the crowd. +Fortunately the space between the two doors was so wide that Robert +could back away and avoid the blows intended for his vitals.</p> + +<p>But he had not reckoned on Dickon Harvey. Harvey had been the first to +hurl himself on the door that Robert drew between the convicts and +himself. Without a word, without a moment of hesitation, he had turned +back diagonally, the others making a lane for him, and thrown himself on +the turnkey Gradger. The struggle was fierce. Had Harvey been alone, he +would have gone down underneath in the bout. But he was not alone. +Twenty hands reached at the keeper and presently Harvey came pushing +through the others, waving a huge bunch of keys over his head with a +shout that the whole hall echoed.</p> + +<p>Robert looked behind him through the outer door. Tapp had disappeared +into his office. There was only the clerk and some idlers about and none +of these, if they could have opened the door, dared to exercise the +power. It was only a question of time when Dickon Harvey would find the +right key. He could see the weapons waving in bared right arms and the +shouts of the rabble once more had a hopeful ring. He said nothing, did +nothing. There was nothing to do. But a rippling in his cheek showed +that his teeth were clenching and unclenching. Instinctively he spread +his arms out, backing against the outer door, clutching the bars and +facing his hunters. It was the attitude of crucifixion.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Dickon Harvey was silent as death, but the shriek of exultation +told that his wrist had turned on the handle of the key. It fitted the +wards. Slowly, all too slowly for the convicts, all too quickly for +Floyd, the inner door was drawn ajar and the foremost men crouched to +spring. Then came a crash in the glass behind Floyd at his very ear. A +long tube of steel passed by his cheek, and, turning, he looked into the +eye of Warden Tapp sighting along the barrel of a rifle. The report rang +out and Dickon Harvey fell forward, the keys jangling at his feet. +Robert wrenched them from his unclasping hand. They were his only +weapon. He had lost the scissors.</p> + +<p>At the fall of Harvey the men recoiled for an instant. Quickly another +rifle, and another, and another were thrust through the bars behind +Robert, and he was cautioned to stand motionless. Like a mountebank's +daughter, whose body outlined against a board the father fringes with +skillfully cast knives, each missing her by only a hair, the prisoner +stood with his arms outspread, protected by the chevaux de frise of +protruding guns. Several of the defenders were kneeling and one thrust +his muzzle between the young man's legs.</p> + +<p>"Retire!" said Tapp. "Clear the rotunda!" The men sullenly stood.</p> + +<p>"One! Two——"</p> + +<p>Before the fatal "Three" was added they broke and turned. Then the +muzzles were drawn in, the door behind Robert opened and the warden, at +the head of half a dozen deputies and a dozen policemen who had just +arrived, charged in upon them. The odds were twenty to one, but with the +Right Spur lying senseless under the telephone pole, Minister Slick +wounded at the gate where Robert had stabbed him and Dickon Harvey dead +on the threshold to freedom, the rabble was merely a torso of Hercules, +formidable in physique but powerless without head or limbs. The clubs of +the officers made heavy thuds and the red blood starting here and there +splashed curious spots of color in the dingy crowd. At one stairway +Robert saw the tall form of Hawkins, bleeding but revived, thrashing +around with an empty gun barrel. Then the mob was driven down the +stairs, dividing itself into two portions in the right and left yards.</p> + +<p>"Open the team gate," cried Hawkins, leading the deputies and officers +to the left, through the kitchen, instead of to the right through the +bath-rooms, whither Tapp had started. This time the warden was content +to follow and the reason became at once apparent. The solitary fire +engine stood over against the burning shops, helpless without its hose. +From the outside several streams were playing on the buildings and the +firemen, mounting by ladders, were climbing along the roof. But access +from within was necessary if any headway were to be made. The engines +stood outside the gate, occupying the interval of delay by getting up +their fires.</p> + +<p>Hawkins stationed his men in a cordon across the gate and admitted the +engines and hose carriages and ladder trucks. One by one they dashed by +till as many as could be supplied with water from the hydrants in the +yard had entered. Then the tall deputy locked the others out, detailed +one squad to guard the rotunda and another to close all doors of the +bastile. With the remainder of the company, re-enforced by more +policemen and keepers, he began to corral his steers.</p> + +<p>In order to do this it was necessary that his own men should maintain +the solidarity of a phalanx, while deploying out like a line of +skirmishers from wall to wall. Spread over the width of the yard at one +side, they began their march with rifles and revolvers ready. The +stragglers fled before them. Their gait was slow. Turning the upper +angle, an ambush was to be feared, but the spirit of the convicts was +broken and they only hurled their weapons and fled. Hawkins wheeled his +line to the right, making the pivot-mark time, and passed along the end +of the yard, which was deserted. Turning the second angle, a more +desperate resistance was shown. Here all was confusion, the engines and +burning shops offering places of refuge, while the presence of the +firemen made it impossible to shoot. Hawkins halted his command.</p> + +<p>"All firemen in the yard fall behind this line!" he shouted. The firemen +left their engines, several of them only tearing themselves away by +force. Three were captured and held in front by the convicts. The +others, seeing this murderous purpose, could hardly be restrained from +rushing to their rescue.</p> + +<p>"Club guns!" cried Hawkins, and the breeches instead of the muzzles were +presented to the mob. But they seemed to dread this end of the weapon as +much as the other, for they released the firemen and slowly withdrew, +Hawkins' line continuing its Macedonian march. Suddenly from a thick +nucleus among the rebels, a spokesman started forward with a white +handkerchief tied to a pole. Hawkins motioned him back and the march was +continued. The men were penned up against the bath-room entrance, +leading into the rotunda and the bastile, where four deputies with +leveled rifles prevented escape. Hawkins had cleared the hydrants and +the firemen resumed their work.</p> + +<p>"Deputies at the bath-room door fall back and guard the stairs leading +up to the rotunda! The prisoners will file into their cells in the +bastile!"</p> + +<p>This was the last straw. A yell of rage burst from the mob. To be flung +back into their kennels with the bitter crust of disappointment to gnaw, +and the prospect of punishment for the day's misdoings, this was too +much to endure without a last resistance. They turned upon their keepers +with the courage of the beast at bay.</p> + +<p>"Now!" cried Hawkins, and his line rushed forward. The hand-to-hand +struggle of the rotunda was renewed more equally, for there were +resolute men in the mob, men reckless of life and maddened by the +goading around the yard. Nor was their accoutrement of iron tools +despicable. Dozens slipped through the line, and policemen as well as +convicts were seen staggering under blows. But the timid ones speedily +fled into the bastile, and, thinning the multitude, robbed it of that +consciousness of numerical superiority which had given it confidence. At +last not more than twenty desperadoes remained, backs to the wall, in +front of the line.</p> + +<p>"Club them down!" cried Hawkins.</p> + +<p>There was no choice but to obey. The men were of that mettle which +breaks but does not bend. One by one they were beaten to the ground.</p> + +<p>The whole of the afternoon was required to lock the mutineers up +properly. With the aid of those prisoners who had not joined the riot +the fire in the shops was finally put out and a good deal of the +property was saved. Only one life had been lost, that of Dickon Harvey, +but the hospital beds were full that night.</p> + +<p>When Warden Tapp called Robert to the office and thanked him in person +for his behavior at the team gate and in the rotunda there were tears in +the proud man's eyes. This was a shameful legacy of ruin and rebellion +which he was leaving to his successor.</p> + +<p>Passing out of the warden's room, through the rotunda, Robert heard the +familiar voice which had puzzled him so often.</p> + +<p>"Aisy, Misther Butler, aisy, for the love o' heaven," the uncouth fellow +groaned.</p> + +<p>Floyd turned and looked. "Slim" Butler, the overseer of the +harness-shop, was superintending the transfer to the hospital on an +improvised stretcher of the prisoner whom he had shot when his section +rose against him. His own head was bandaged and his clothes were burned. +The firemen had rescued them both with difficulty. But the face of the +prisoner caused Robert to start, for he recognized in the convict whom +Dobbs called Quirk his uncle's coachman, Dennis Mungovan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>THREE OF A KIND.</h3> + + +<p>"I've got him! I've got him! Take his other arm, Toot!"</p> + +<p>"Let go; she's tipping!"</p> + +<p>"Will I let go and see the bloke drownded? You're a spunky feller, Toot +Watts. Anybody'd think you never rocked a dory before yourself. Get up +in the stern, Turkey. Now pull her in to the bridge and hold on to the +logs. That'll balance her."</p> + +<p>With one hand the Whistler held the drowning man's arm, while with the +other he lifted his chin out of the water. It was a dangerous position, +leaning over the bow in this manner, but the man in tow was unconscious +and could not struggle. In a half-dozen strokes Turkey had brought the +dory's stern up against one of the piles of the pier. This support he +clasped with might and main, while Toot and the Whistler drew the body +over the bow. Both were breathing hard when it was finally boarded.</p> + +<p>"Turn him over," cried the Whistler. "You take the oars, Turkey, and row +like fury for the beach. Get the bloke's head around, Toot, up against +the bow. That's it. Now work his left arm up and down; I'll take the +right—not so fast—about like this. That'll make him breathe."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he's dead?" asked Toot in an awestruck whisper.</p> + +<p>"He ain't dead. I felt of his heart."</p> + +<p>"I seen a bloke at the bath-house that was in the water half an hour and +they brought him round," said Turkey, panting at the oars.</p> + +<p>"Keep the arm going, Toot. Never mind if you're tired."</p> + +<p>"Are we near the beach?" asked Toot. He was the youngest of the trio, +not much more than a child, in fact, and even the slum child, precocious +in many kinds of knowledge, does not peep without tremors behind the +veil of the mystery of mysteries. No one answered his query. An answer +was not necessary, for over his shoulder the white line of the surf +could be seen. When they got near the Whistler jumped to Turkey's side, +seized the right oar and gave the added impetus of his lithe young arms +to the headway of the boat. The water hardly rippled the glorious ribbon +of moonlight behind them and wind and tide were set toward shore. Under +these favoring circumstances the dory was carried high and dry upon the +sands.</p> + +<p>"Lift him out," cried the Whistler. Shagarach's body was laid upon the +beach, dripping and disheveled. "You run up to the refectory, Toot, and +tell the cop there to bring some whisky. Turn him over, Turkey, and let +the water run out. Now slap his cheeks. Slap them hard."</p> + +<p>"He's breathing."</p> + +<p>"How did he tumble in, I wonder? Gee, didn't he come down flopping?"</p> + +<p>"P'raps he was loaded."</p> + +<p>"Lucky he didn't hit on them rocks there."</p> + +<p>"He would if the tide was dead low."</p> + +<p>Neither the Whistler nor Turkey had checked their vigorous efforts to +resuscitate the limp body. Even the catching of their boat on a +high-crested wave did not seduce them from their work.</p> + +<p>"I'll swim after her," said the Whistler, watching the dory drift slowly +off the sands.</p> + +<p>Soon Shagarach's eyes opened and his lips muttered indistinctly. +Presently he moved his arms. How cool the air was! He had often longed +to lie like this on a soft, white sand, and let the shallow water play +over him, while he pierced with his gaze the deep blue sky. But the +stars were above him now—not pendulous tongues of flame such as +throbbed in the oriental heavens of his childhood, but the smoldering +embers of the northern night, paling in the moonlight. And whose were +those two strange faces thrust darkly over the golden disk?</p> + +<p>"Are you better, mister?" It was unmistakably an earthly tone, the voice +and accent of the city gamin, but warm with that humaneness of heart +which a ragged jacket shelters as often as a velvet one.</p> + +<p>"Take my coat, mister. You're shivering," said the Whistler, suiting +action to word, so that Shagarach found himself embraced by a garment, +not dry by any means, but more grateful than the soaked apparel which +was chilling his skin.</p> + +<p>"If you can get up, mister, and run around, it'll warm you. Toot'll be +here soon with some whisky."</p> + +<p>Shagarach gathered his strength to rise, but the effort was fruitless.</p> + +<p>"How did I come here?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"You fell over the bridge, right near us. We were fishing for smelts and +rowed over and saved you."</p> + +<p>"That was fortunate. I thank you," murmured Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Can't yer swim?" asked Turkey in a pitying tone, but Shagarach was +preoccupied with his recollections. He had made a mistake of judgment. +He should have declined the rendezvous. But who and what was the +assailant, the leering oaf he had passed on the pier? Was it some agent +of the Arnolds? The anonymous letters pointed to that source. They were +all seamed with allusions to the trial of Robert Floyd. And they formed +his only clew. Stay, the hat he still clutched in his hand. He raised it +feebly—for the mental energies of the lawyer were more elastic than the +physical—and his teeth were still chattering though his brain was +clear. It was a round, rimless cap of a common pattern.</p> + +<p>"Here comes Toot." The Whistler, who was all eyes, had been the first to +espy him, running at the top of his speed. Out of the darkness behind +him loomed the powerful form of a policeman.</p> + +<p>"The cop's comin', fellers. Here he is," cried Toot.</p> + +<p>"Gimme the whisky," said the Whistler. "Take a swig, mister. It'll warm +you up."</p> + +<p>Shagarach applied his lips to the bottle and took a sparing draught.</p> + +<p>"Well, how is the gentleman?" sang out the policeman, cheerily.</p> + +<p>"He's all right now," answered the Whistler, a strange uneasiness coming +over him.</p> + +<p>The officer stooped down to the man's face.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Shagarach——" Surprise prevented him from saying more and +Shagarach looked up at hearing his name.</p> + +<p>"You're not on the old beat now?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm on the park force till I get strong again. This is a bad +accident. Coming round all right, though, by the look o' things."</p> + +<p>"Yes, give me a hand and I'll try to rise."</p> + +<p>Officer Chandler's great hand swung Shagarach on his feet. For a moment +his knees sunk. Then he shook himself like a draggled dog. The liquor +was working its way to his marrow and banishing the deep-seated chill.</p> + +<p>"I owe my life to these boys," he said.</p> + +<p>"Hello, what are you stripping for?" asked the officer, turning around.</p> + +<p>"My dory," answered the Whistler. He had already reduced himself to the +minimum of wearing apparel and stood ankle-deep in the surf.</p> + +<p>The dory was twenty yards out, showing a dark broadside against the +moonlit waves.</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," laughed Chandler. "Give me your arm, Mr. Shagarach. +We'll furnish you a new outfit at the refectory. How did it all happen?"</p> + +<p>"One moment, till the boy comes back." Shagarach knew that his assailant +had had time to escape and that search for the present would be useless, +but he saw no advantage in keeping the incident to himself. So he +sketched the story of the letters, the rendezvous and the struggle, in +his curt, forcible style.</p> + +<p>"Find the head that cap fits and you'll do me a service," he concluded, +showing Chandler the headgear.</p> + +<p>"There was nobody on the bridge?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody but the oaf I described."</p> + +<p>"Wade out, Turkey," the Whistler was calling to his barefoot companions. +He seemed shy of putting his boat ashore. Since the arrival of the +officer all three urchins had become singularly distant and distressed. +Was this only the natural awe which slum children feel in the presence +of the police? Or was it conscience that made cowards of them all?</p> + +<p>"Come ashore, young feller. The gentleman wants to thank you," said +Chandler.</p> + +<p>"We must look for the fishing-pole under the pier," answered the +Whistler. It was true that he had thrown his rod away when they heard +the loud splash of Shagarach's body in the water. But his manner +indicated that while what he said might be true, it was not the fact. +Turkey and Toot also had shown unseemly haste in wading out to the dory +with the Whistler's outer raiment. The Whistler was digging the blade in +for his first stroke when Shagarach addressed him in a tone that made +him pause.</p> + +<p>"My young friends, I am too weak to thank you to-night. To-morrow is +Saturday. Could you call at my office in the morning, 31 Putnam street? +Mr. Shagarach. Can you come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered the boys, with more submission than gladness in +their voices. All the gamin's impudence melts at a touch of true +kindness. The boys waited a moment, then disappeared into the night, +while Shagarach, with the policeman's assistance, made his way through +the gathering crowd to the refectory.</p> + +<p>It was the misfortune of Jacob, Shagarach's office boy, to be the owner +of a most preposterous nose, the consciousness of which led him to fear +society and shun the mannerless multitude. Boys of his own age in +particular he dreaded, as a tame crow is said to fear nothing so much as +a wild one. So when our three mischiefmakers entered the office the next +morning and seated themselves till Mr. Shagarach should return, the poor +lad began squirming by anticipation in his chair as if its seat were a +pin cushion with the points of the pins protruding. As a matter of +defensive tactics, this was the worst possible attitude to take, as it +courted assault. But Jacob was not a strategist.</p> + +<p>Before long his torture began, first by side comments and giggles, +suppressed in deference to the decorum of the surroundings. Then he was +subjected to a running fire of personal questions, the tone of which +speedily began to mimic the muffled nasals of his own richly accented +responses. This would have been acute torment to a sensitive lad and a +spirited one would have ended the comedy by an appeal to arms. But poor +Jacob was stolid and peaceable. So his tormenters had things their own +way. The Whistler especially seemed to have neither conscience nor +reason in his make-up, but an enormous funny-bone which usurped the +functions of both. It was not until Aronson came in that Jacob was able +to make his escape.</p> + +<p>Saul Aronson was not a musical young man. If he yawned down the major +chord twice or thrice at bedtime this was the nearest he ever got to +singing. But when the Whistler raised his flexible pipe, at first +softly, then loudly, with wonderful trills, breaking into still more +wonderful tremolos, with staccato volleys, and ascending arpeggios that +would have put a mocking-bird to shame, it is no wonder that he gave up +the attempt to insert the metes and bounds correctly in a quit-claim +deed and contented himself with furtively watching the o-shaped orifice +from which this flood of melody issued. This was his occupation when +Shagarach's form, crossing the threshold, sent him back to his copying +and checked the Whistler in the full ecstasy of an improvised cadenza.</p> + +<p>"You have saved my life," said Shagarach to the boys when they had +followed him into the inner room. He used the plural number, but his +gaze seemed to be attracted to the Whistler, whose neatly brushed hair +told of a mother's hand, and whose restless blue eyes, fringed with +heavy dark lashes, centered a face oval, high-born and sweet, which gave +out in every contour the glad emanation of a youth which was natural and +pure. There was less in the others to make them distinctive. Turkey +seemed to be a hulking clod and Toot was wizened and shrill-voiced and +sharp.</p> + +<p>"You have saved my life. How can I repay you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want any pay," spoke up Whistler. "I on'y came here to tell you +about the fire."</p> + +<p>"What fire?"</p> + +<p>"Turkey said you was defending the bloke that set fire to the house on +Cazenove street."</p> + +<p>"Do you know something about that?"</p> + +<p>"We seen a blo—a man coming out of the house," answered the Whistler.</p> + +<p>"Then you come to make me still more obliged to you. But you must let me +discharge a part of my other debt first I have just come from the bank. +Here are fifteen double eagles. You will each give me your mother's name +and address and I will send her five."</p> + +<p>Turkey and Toot showed no reluctance in doing this, but the Whistler +still held back.</p> + +<p>"My mother doesn't want any reward," he said. All three of the boys had +just graduated from the Phillips grammar school, and could place their +negatives correctly when they chose.</p> + +<p>"This is not a reward. I only ask you to allow me to be your friend. At +your age I had never seen this amount of money."</p> + +<p>But still the Whistler blushed and shook his head till Shagarach +perceived the boy's principle could not be shaken.</p> + +<p>"You will give me your mother's address? Perhaps I may be able to get +you work. Wouldn't you like to go to work?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir." The Whistler's face, which obstinate refusal, even for +so honorable a scruple, had clouded with a trace of sullenness, +brightened at once and his blue eyes smiled. Shagarach copied the +address carefully and determined not to lose sight of the boy who knew +how to say no so decidedly.</p> + +<p>"And now——" he pushed the memorandum book aside. "I am defending +Floyd. What did you wish to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"We was the first at the fire," said Toot, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"And we found the body of the servant," added Turkey.</p> + +<p>But Shagarach's eyes never left the Whistler.</p> + +<p>"Just when the fire broke out," said the Whistler, "we were coming +through the alleyway side of the house."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"A big bloke—I mean a tall man—was running down the alleyway into +Broad street. I noticed him, because the alley was narrow and he knocked +me down."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"In the alleyway."</p> + +<p>"Near Broad street?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Ran against you and knocked you down?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and said: 'Darn it, get out of the way.'"</p> + +<p>"Was he running?"</p> + +<p>"Well, half-running."</p> + +<p>"We was running," added Toot; "'cause we heard them yelling 'Fire!'"</p> + +<p>"What kind of a looking man was it?"</p> + +<p>"A big, brown man, with a black mustache."</p> + +<p>"He looked like a dood," added Toot.</p> + +<p>"You didn't know him?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Would you know him again?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," answered the Whistler. "I seen—I saw him last week pulling a +single scull up the river."</p> + +<p>Shagarach remembered having seen a portrait of Harry Arnold displayed in +a fashionable photographer's showcase—shaggy cape-coat and fur cap +setting off his splendid beauty. Immediately he wrote the address on a +card, and, summoning Aronson, bade him obtain a half-dozen copies of the +photograph.</p> + +<p>"He was a handsome young man, then? About how old?"</p> + +<p>The three guesses varied from 21 to 27. Either of these ages seems +fabulously advanced from the standpoint of 14.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice anything about his hands? Were they bare or did he wear +gloves?"</p> + +<p>"His right hand was bare," answered the Whistler, "'cause his fingernail +scratched me when he thrun me—when he threw me down."</p> + +<p>Shagarach drew forth the glove which Chandler had brought him and was +studying it profoundly. Apparently he forgot the presence of the boys, +so deep was his meditation. Then at last he started out of the reverie, +thanked them again and with kind assurances of friendship shook their +hands in parting at the door.</p> + +<p>"Ain't he a dandy bloke?" whispered Turkey on the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't yer take it, Whistler?" said Toot.</p> + +<p>But the Whistler held his peace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>DEATHBED REVELATIONS.</h3> + + +<p>When Emily Barlow ran down to Shagarach's office at noon this Saturday +she was accompanied by her friend, Beulah Ware. Beulah Ware was as dark +as Emily was fair. In temperament, as in complexion, the two girls +offered a contrast, Beulah's carriage having the recollected dignity of +a nun's, while Emily's sensibilities were all as fine as those Japanese +swords which are whetted so keenly they divide the light leaves that +fall across their edges.</p> + +<p>"We should like to leave a note with the flowers, Mr. Aronson. Could you +furnish us paper?"</p> + +<p>Aronson was only too eager to furnish not only paper, but envelope, +ink-well and a ready-filled pen. When the young ladies went out he +thought a cloud passed over the arid chapters of his Pickering XII. This +was the note, pinned to a graceful bouquet, that Shagarach read on his +return:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My Dear Mr. Shagarach: You must have read of the riot yesterday in +which Robert behaved so nobly. But he is even more pleased with a +discovery which he made during the affair. It seems that one of the +wounded convicts, who has been passing under the name of Quirk, is +no other than the coachman, Mungovan, whom none of us could find. +Could you manage to call at the prison to-day? The poor fellow is +seriously injured and may have important evidence in his +possession. Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="right">"EMILY BARLOW."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The violets seemed to move Shagarach far more than the note, momentous +as its revelation might be. His hand trembled when he reached to clasp +the stems. Then he withdrew it and stood irresolute. A procession was +passing through the street below. From the window he could see the +tilted necks of a line of fifers. Was it a horror of music that made him +shut out these sounds so often? A dread of perfume and loveliness that +made him leave the room at once with brief directions to Aronson? The +casual observer would have said that he merely hurried to obey the +suggestion of Emily's note, for he took his way at once to the state +prison across the river.</p> + +<p>When Col. Mainwaring took hold of the prison that morning it was +expected that two out of every five of the convicts would have to be +bastinadoed before peace could be restored. Against the advice of all +the deputies, including Hawkins, he had summoned his wards to the +rotunda and outlined his course of action in a cool speech. The burden +of it was that he intended to begin with a clean sheet and to look out +for their interests rather than their sensibilities, or, as he expressed +it, "to give them hard words but soft mattresses."</p> + +<p>The matter and manner of the address had a tranquillizing effect and +some of the shops that day wore as quiet and decent an aspect as any +factory-room in the state. Moreover, as soon as it became known that the +colonel had resolved to adopt several of the reforms demanded in Dickon +Harvey's petition, even the moodiest of the ring-leaders felt that they +could submit without any hurt to pride.</p> + +<p>Stretched on a hospital cot, whispering with contrite eyes to a +black-robed clergyman, lay Dennis Mungovan. The look on his face was +peaceful and exalted. His hands were clasped. The groans of patients and +the odor of drugs which filled the chamber did not reach his senses. He +had just finished his deathbed confession and stood upon a secure +footing on the terra firma of faith, awaiting the summons from above.</p> + +<p>"A lawyer to speak with Quirk," announced the attendant.</p> + +<p>"Not Quirk, but Mungovan," said the clergyman, making way.</p> + +<p>"And must you lave me, father dear?" besought the patient, stretching +out his hands as a cold man in winter reaches toward the fire.</p> + +<p>"I have a wedding to perform, my son. Remember, your hours in this +valley of tears are few, and you have left everything worldly behind +you. Thank God, who in His infinite mercy has given you the grace of a +happy death."</p> + +<p>"I do, father, I do," cried the pallid sufferer.</p> + +<p>"And an opportunity to repent of your sins. God bless you. Good-by."</p> + +<p>The clergyman bowed to Shagarach and departed—from the deathbed to the +wedding service, from the grave to the cradle of life, so wide was the +compass of his ministrations.</p> + +<p>"You are dying, then?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Wid a bullet in me breast, misthur, that the doctors can't rache. Och, +they murdhered me wid their probin'. And all for what? All for nawthin'. +What was I to be mixin' in their riots for? Wirrasthrue! Wirrasthrue!"</p> + +<p>"You know Robert Floyd is in the prison here?"</p> + +<p>"Robert Floyd! For the love o' heaven, misthur, don't tell him it's me. +Tell him I'm Quirk. Och, that lie is a sin on me sowl."</p> + +<p>"The truth will be best when you are so near death," said Shagarach, +quietly. "Perhaps it would be better at all times. Besides, Mr. Floyd +knows you are here."</p> + +<p>"Misther," the dying man drew Shagarach toward him. "Misther! Do me a +favor for the love o' doin' good."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Will you do it—an' I'll pray for your sowl before the throne, so help +me——"</p> + +<p>"I will if I can. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Keep it from Ellen."</p> + +<p>"Keep what?"</p> + +<p>"My name, my disgrace. Never let the poor girl know. She was my wife."</p> + +<p>"Your wife?" Shagarach was puzzled a moment. "You mean Ellen Greeley?"</p> + +<p>"Ellen Mungovan, before God."</p> + +<p>"Ellen Greeley is dead. She perished in the fire."</p> + +<p>The man started up in his bed so violently as to burst the bandage of +his wound. His blood began to stain the linen and Shagarach was obliged +to call an attendant, who adjusted it and tucked the patient snugly in. +Still his glassy eyes were fixed on Shagarach and his muttering lips +seemed to say over the word: "Dead! Dead! Dead!"</p> + +<p>"She was burned to death in the Arnold fire. Robert Floyd is accused of +setting it and causing her death."</p> + +<p>"Burned to death!" The man's brain seemed bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know these things?"</p> + +<p>"Shure, how would I know them, misther, all cooped in here like a bat in +a cave?"</p> + +<p>"How did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"Och, the foolishness came over me, wid my head tangled in dhrink. What +does a man know in dhrink? He can't tell his friend from his inimy. And +me that had a dacent mother in the ould counthry and a dacent wife in +the new, look at this, where it druv me."</p> + +<p>"What crime are you charged with?"</p> + +<p>"Wid breakin' and enterin', misther; and, sure, it was the stableman put +me up to it that night I was full, and they got away and I was caught +wid the watches on me and I was so shamed of Ellen and me mother at +home, says I, I'll niver disgrace them, says I, and so I gev in me name +Quirk, and none of them could tell the differ."</p> + +<p>"When was it you were arrested?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"It's three weeks and three days yesterday, misther; that I know by the +scratches I made in me cell."</p> + +<p>"Can't you read?"</p> + +<p>"Only the big, black letthers, misther."</p> + +<p>This explained Mungovan's ignorance of Floyd's arrest. It seemed to be +an accident that the two had never met in prison. Though they occupied +cells in the same ward, their daily work carried them to opposite parts +of the yard, Mungovan's to the harness-shop under "Slim" Butler; +Robert's to the greenhouses near the team gate.</p> + +<p>"Misther!" The poor wretch clasped Shagarach's wrist and drew the +lawyer's ear to his lips again.</p> + +<p>"Misther, will you bury me where Ellen is buried?"</p> + +<p>"I'll see if that can be done."</p> + +<p>"Misther!" The man's eyes were glazing. "Look!" He fumbled with aspen +fingers in his breast, finally drawing forth an envelope. From this he +removed a ringlet of black hair, probably a love-lock of Ellen's. Then +he showed the inclosed writing to Shagarach. It was not addressed.</p> + +<p>"Read it," he whispered. "Ellen gev it me to carry."</p> + +<p>Shagarach opened the envelope and read in a servant-girl's painstaking +hand the following words:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The peddler has not come for two days, so I send you this by a +trustworthy messanger. As I rote you in my last, the professor said +in the study, 'Harry gets his deserts.' That was all I could hear +only he and Mr. Robert talked for a long time afterwards. The will +is in the safe in the study. If I hear ennything more I will let +you know, and please send me the money you promised me soon."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There was neither address nor signature to this document.</p> + +<p>"To carry where?" asked Shagarach, but the man's brain was all clotted +with a single idea.</p> + +<p>"Will you bury me by Ellen's side, misther, in the green churchyard +under the soft turf that the wind combs smooth like in my own dear +counthry? Will you bury me beside Ellen I disgraced so, misther? She'll +know I'm wid her there. Will you bury me, misther?"</p> + +<p>"I will. I will. Where did Ellen bid you carry the letter?"</p> + +<p>"The letther? Och, I carried the letther in me mouth. Sure, I wouldn't +be afther givin' up Ellen's letther to the warden."</p> + +<p>"I mean——" But the man was passing through the delirium that precedes +the last fainting calm. Several times his lips moved, murmuring "Ellen." +His fingers clutched the love-lock to his breast. Once he turned his +head and asked for "Father Flynn." But Father Flynn was ministering now +at another ceremony as opposite to this as laughter is to tears.</p> + +<p>Toward the end a smile of singular sweetness irradiated his rough face, +made delicate by the waxy color of death. Were his thoughts playing back +again among the memories of childhood, in the beloved island, perhaps at +the knee of that honest mother whom he feared to disgrace? Or were they +leaping forward to the joy of the cool bed under the churchyard daisies +at Ellen's side? Shagarach, holding the shred of paper in his hand, +brooding over the answer to his unanswered question, could only watch +the flickering spark in reverential awe.</p> + +<p>But he did not default his side of the pact they had made, he and Dennis +Mungovan, with clasped hands in the hospital alcove. At a great +sacrifice of time he sought out Ellen Greeley's sister, explained the +secret of Ellen's marriage and Mungovan's repentance for his follies, +and, with the help of Father Flynn, persuaded her to consent to an +interment of the couple together. He even went to the pains of +communicating the death to Mungovan's worthy mother, having obtained her +address from Ellen Greeley's sister and heir. But the circumstances and +place of the "accident" which killed him were humanely concealed.</p> + +<p>In return for all this solicitude the lawyer had an unaddressed and +ambiguous scrawl in his possession. Three facts were established in +relation to the person for whom it was intended. In the first place +whoever it was he knew that Harry Arnold had "got his deserts" under his +uncle's will. Secondly, he had employed Ellen Greeley as a spy upon the +doings in the professor's household. Thirdly, he was in league with the +missing peddler, who seemed to act as a go-between for Ellen and her +correspondent.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE NEST-EGG HATCHES OUT.</h3> + + +<p>"St! Bobbs!"</p> + +<p>The sound was at Robert's left ear. He had been dreaming of Emily +arrayed in bridal white and kneeling at his side before the altar of +joy. Uncle Benjamin in a clergyman's surplice was pronouncing a +benediction upon them. The good old custom of a nuptial kiss was about +to be observed, when the warning whisper and his prison nickname rudely +awakened him to his surroundings. The sweet vision melted into a black +reality, the wide arches of the cathedral contracting to narrow cell +walls and the loved faces of Emily and his uncle cruelly vanishing.</p> + +<p>"Bobbs! Do you 'ear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Robert rubbed his eyes as if to restore the illusion and his +answer was slumbrously indistinct.</p> + +<p>"Count that bell."</p> + +<p>A distant clock was giving out two strokes faintly but with vibrations +prolonged in the silence.</p> + +<p>"'Ear the hother coves snoozing."</p> + +<p>The deep breathing of the convicts grew more and more audible as +Robert's senses became sharper and he sat up on his couch.</p> + +<p>"Hi 'ear you, Bobbs. Hare you making your toilet?" inquired the +facetious cracksman.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Leave your bloomin' boots be'ind as a keepsake. We haren't +pussy-footed, me hangel."</p> + +<p>"All right, I'm ready."</p> + +<p>"Now, take out the blocks, me boy, and 'andle with care. If they falls +on your toes they might 'urt, besides disturbin' the bloomin' deputy, +which we must be werry careful to havoid, Bobbs, out of consideration +for 'is feelings. Sh!"</p> + +<p>A footstep was heard coming along the corridor, and the re-enforcement +of light told the prisoners that the turnkey had a lantern in his hand, +the dim gas jet at one end only sufficing to deepen the shadows in the +cells. Robert lay back on his pallet and closed his eyes till the steps +retreated. In a half-minute the turnkey would be back. He was a new man, +both Gradger and Hawkins being still on the sick list from the blows +they had received in the riot of the day before.</p> + +<p>"St, Bobbs, hare you ready?"</p> + +<p>"All ready."</p> + +<p>Robert had removed six bricks and carefully muffled them in his +bedquilt, leaving an aperture not much larger than the door of a kennel. +The light came nearer and nearer and suddenly he heard the cracksman +groaning piteously. The turnkey raised his lantern, approached the cell +from which these sounds issued and peered in.</p> + +<p>"Somebody bludgeoned yesterday," thought he. But "somebody" was standing +at the front of his cell, with his hands firmly grasping two bars. As +the turnkey stooped and brought his eyes nearer, the two bars were +wrenched out and clasped around his neck. Being a sturdy fellow, his +instinct was to struggle rather than to cry. But his struggle availed +him nothing in the surprise of the moment, with the odds of position +against him. His head was drawn down through the bars and he nuzzled a +soft substance on the cracksman's breast. Then a strange odor got +possession of his senses. He gasped, fought, gasped again, and finally +fainted away. When his writhings had ceased the cracksman removed his +lantern and laid it lightly on the floor outside.</p> + +<p>"Climb through, Bobbs—not that way."</p> + +<p>Robert had stood on the bed and thrust one leg through the aperture.</p> + +<p>"Head foremost, as the little feller dives."</p> + +<p>Robert reversed his position, and with a terrible wrenching of his +shoulders worked the upper part of his body through the opening, Dobbs +giving him loyal assistance and encouragement meanwhile. The turnkey +hanging helpless into the cracksman's cell, his body outlined against +the lantern, caused him to start back.</p> + +<p>"Ee's hall right. Hi nursed 'im asleep on my breast-pin. Hain't it +daintily perfumed?"</p> + +<p>Attached to the cracksman's breast was a large sponge saturated with +chloroform. The turnkey had inhaled this and was soundly asleep.</p> + +<p>"Now for running the gantlet, Bobbs."</p> + +<p>Dobbs' motions were lightning-like. First he laid the turnkey softly +outside, then climbed through the cell-bars, this time feet foremost, +for the cuts had been made nearly two feet apart vertically and the bars +were not set close together. Once outside, he motioned to Robert to +follow him, while he detached the prostrate man's keys from his girdle, +dabbing his nose now and then with the sponge. Squeezing them tightly so +as to avoid clanking, he coolly selected one of the largest.</p> + +<p>"That comes of watching Longlegs w'en the others were 'ollering," he +whispered to Robert, holding up his prize. It was the key to the door at +the blind end of the corridor, which a turnkey passing through with the +intention of going out into the yard would naturally select from his +bunch and carry separate. Hawkins' habit of swinging his keys +nonchalantly had not escaped Dobbs' observant eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now," whispered Dobbs, making for the blind end of the corridor. There +was no time to remove the lantern and the chloroformed turnkey from +sight. Most of the convicts were still asleep, but two or three, +awakened by the noises, started up in their night clothes and stood +behind the bars, making gestures but uttering no sound.</p> + +<p>Thus far Dobbs' plan had proved successful. There was no other outlet +than the one he had chosen, since the cells were backed against the +middle of the bastile and were impregnable at the rear. There remained +two strong doors in the opposite wall to force. One turn of the key in +its wards slipped the lock of the first. Before the second Dobbs waited +and listened. A rhythm of receding footsteps was heard outside. +Suddenly they seemed to cease.</p> + +<p>"He's turned the corner," whispered the cracksman, immediately opening +the outer door.</p> + +<p>"Pull the inside one to, me boy."</p> + +<p>Robert did as he commanded.</p> + +<p>"Out with you now."</p> + +<p>Robert preceded his confederate into the deserted yard, while Dobbs +closed the great outer gate softly and sprung its iron bolt. Pursuit +from within was thus cut off.</p> + +<p>"Now run, me boy."</p> + +<p>Robert followed, easily keeping up with his leader. As they approached +the end of the bastile, Dobbs slowed his pace.</p> + +<p>"Tiptoes, now," he cried stealthily working his way up to the corner of +the building, where he stood crouching as if in ambush. Their shadows +were thrown forward beyond the corner, so that the cracksman could not +get within a yard of the edge.</p> + +<p>"The hother cove Hi greased, but this one we'll 'ave to sponge, Bobbs," +he said, taking the sponge from his breast and sprinkling it anew from a +tiny vial.</p> + +<p>"'Ere ee comes a-waggin' of 'is 'ead, but this at 'is beak will set 'im +snoozin', Hi fawncy."</p> + +<p>The footsteps came nearer and nearer, as monotonously regular as the +ticking of a clock, but slow and heavy, as if the sentinel were a man of +size. Dobbs stood ready to spring, the sponge in his right hand, his +left free to disarm the deputy if he should present his gun. The form of +a man turned the angle. It was Koerber, the giant, whom Col. Mainwaring +had transferred from the caneshop to this less responsible duty.</p> + +<p>Luckily Dobbs caught him in the midst of a capacious gape, and the great +sponge stuffed into his open mouth served at once as gag and smothering +instrument.</p> + +<p>"'Old 'is harm," cried Dobbs to Robert, who leaped to his side and held +down the powerful right arm of the German Titan. Koerber kicked and +fought with desperation, bruising each of his assailants, but the +sponge muffled his outcries and gradually he sunk in a stupor, Dobbs, +with a strength no one would have suspected, breaking the fall of his +body and laying him gently on the ground.</p> + +<p>Another long application of the sponge and again he sped away. Koerber's +beat stopped at the middle of the end-section of the yard, where he and +the other sentinel must have met and saluted. But no one had come to his +aid, and when the two fugitives crossed the "left yard," as it was +called, making directly for the wall, no one impeded their progress. +Eighty yards away, near the greenhouses, the back of a deputy could be +seen marching in the opposite direction. Was this the man whom Dobbs had +"greased?"</p> + +<p>The cracksman had made a bee-line for the twenty-foot wall. How did he +hope to surmount such a barrier? It was as smooth as a planed board, +with hardly crevice enough at the cemented seams to give a cat's claw +footing.</p> + +<p>"Ere's a hinstrument of my hown inventing which I call the 'andy 'inge," +said Dobbs, removing from his bosom an iron thing coiled around with +rope. Unreeling the rope with lightning twists, he displayed for a +second a plain, strong hinge, very broadplated and sharp at the inner +angle. With a cast that no professional angler could excel, he flung +this far over the top of the wall, and drew it taut, by means of the +rope. The edges of the wall being drilled off perfectly square, the +hinge must have caught on the other side, and the security of the +apparatus as a means of ascent was only limited by the strength of the +rope. The device was as simple, yet as ingenious, as the clock-face.</p> + +<p>"Climb, me boy," said Dobbs.</p> + +<p>Robert was up in a few seconds, the rope being thick enough to give his +hands good purchase, and the cool night air and exhilaration buoying his +strength. Dobbs climbed with more difficulty and was puffing heavily +when, with Robert's help, he reached the broad top of the wall.</p> + +<p>"Hi'll 'ave you gazetted hensign in the royal navy, Bobbs, next time Hi +confab with 'er royal 'ighness," he smiled, his humor never appearing to +desert him. "Such climbing would do credit to a powder monkey."</p> + +<p>Just then, with the two figures standing on the top of the wall, a loud +clang smote the silent air. It was followed by another and another till +the world seemed awake once more.</p> + +<p>"The alarm bell!" cried Dobbs. "They're after us! Drop!"</p> + +<p>Both men were on the ground in a second, Dobbs coiling his "handy hinge" +as he led the way running. Fear lent him wings and though he panted and +his voice grew husky, he managed to keep abreast of his fleeter +companion. The prison wall skirted a long, ill-lighted alley, which +debouched in an unfrequented street. Here the houses were scattered, +barren lots intervening, and a glimpse of the river breaking into the +background now and then. It was broad moonlight, and the trees and +fences afforded little shelter to the runaways.</p> + +<p>Any policeman who met them would have been justified in shooting down +two men, one in convict garb, fleeing from the direction of the prison. +Doubtless Dobbs had prepared himself for this emergency, but luck +favored him here and his reserve resources were not called into play. To +left and right and left again he turned, finally climbing a low fence +and crossing a stableyard that bordered on the river. A second fence to +climb and Robert found himself on the rocky embankment of the stream.</p> + +<p>How dark and beautiful it was in the moonlight! "Free, and I know not +another as infinite word"—the line of the poet came back to him, and +for an instant he felt in his veins all the glory of that treasure for +which nations have thought rivers of their purest blood no extravagant +price. But there was little leisure now for meditation. The alarm bell +could still be heard sounding distinctly at the distance of a quarter of +a mile and Dobbs was peering down the embankment, which cast an inky +pall over the water in its shadow.</p> + +<p>Presently he whistled. An answer came, some fifty yards to the right. +Clutching his comrade's arm, the Englishman ran along the bank to the +spot from which the response proceeded. A light keel-boat with a single +occupant was moored in the gloom below, but so far below that to jump +would surely capsize her, for the tide was at its ebb and the stream had +sunk like an emptying canal lock.</p> + +<p>"Shall we plunge in?" asked Robert, not averse to the bracing midnight +bath.</p> + +<p>"'Ardly, with a four-mile row in wet clothes before us, me hangel," +answered the cracksman, "and the 'andy 'inge still lovingly clasped to +my bosom."</p> + +<p>Scooping out some earth at the rim of the flags which crowned the +embankment wall, he made a hollow for the hinge and threw the rope down +into the boat. The corner to which it clung had not been chiseled off +clean like the edge of the prison wall and there was some chance of its +slipping, but the risk had to be run.</p> + +<p>This time Dobbs descended first. Robert followed him nimbly. All through +the adventure he had reflected and even echoed the cracksman's humorous +mood, and had displayed as little nervousness as if it were a student's +lark upon which he was engaged instead of the grave crime of prison +breach. So when the hinge slipped, just as he was dangling midway, and +he fell plump into Dobbs' arm, with a coil of rope and an iron implement +behind him, he only laughed as delightedly as a high-perched tomboy +after climbing a forbidden fence.</p> + +<p>"Well, that gives us back the hinge," he said. "We might have had to +leave it."</p> + +<p>Evidently the serious-talking young radical had a vein of drollery under +his thoughtful exterior.</p> + +<p>"You didn't 'urt yourself?" asked Dobbs, gathering his own dispersed +members together.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. You're as good as a feather bed. I'd just enjoy tumbling on +you four or five times a day."</p> + +<p>But Dobbs, ruefully rubbing his barked shins, only ordered the boatman +to "give way," which is nautical for "pull straight ahead," and in three +or four strokes they were clear of the embankment and out in the full +current of the flowing tide.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>ITS CHICK PROVES PECULIAR.</h3> + + +<p>Have you never lain back at midnight in the bow of a Whitehall, with +your hands clasped behind your head and your legs lazily +outstretched—no comrades but the oarsman amidships, and the +fellow-passenger facing you from the stern, no sound but the gurgle of +your own gliding, no sensation but the onward impulse of the boat, as +gentle as the swaying of a garden swing, and the scarcely perceptible +breeze aerating the surface of the river? Then the moon has never tinted +the atmosphere for you with such voluptuous purity as it did for Robert +Floyd that night, and the sparse, dim stars have never announced +themselves so articulately as the lights of a grander city than that +whose gloomy masses and scattered lamps they overhung. Even Dobbs' +lighting of a cigar—no cosmic event, surely—did not jar upon the grand +totality. The tiny flame, drawn in and then flaring up, gave flash-light +glimpses of a face unmatched in the shrewdness and humor of its lines.</p> + +<p>For fully ten minutes not a word was spoken. Suddenly Dobbs' voice +snapped out:</p> + +<p>"The hother duds, quick, chummy. There's a bobby on the draw."</p> + +<p>A pair of black trousers was thrown toward him by the oarsman and Dobbs +drew them on over his prison garb.</p> + +<p>"Now the coat."</p> + +<p>He was turning his striped blouse inside out.</p> + +<p>"Now, let's 'ear you in the chorus," said Dobbs, who immediately set up +a sailor's song about Nancy Lee. Robert and the boatman swelled the +chorus as desired, with rollicking "Heave ho's."</p> + +<p>"Quit your caterwauling there!" cried the policeman above. The +pseudo-sailors at once hushed as if much frightened and rowed swiftly +under the bridge, while the policeman, satisfied with this display of +obedience, stalked along on his lonely beat. Above the bridge the river +narrowed and the banks were no longer of granite, but of arable loam +scalloped into a thousand little inlets. An hour must have elapsed and +three more bridges had been passed, when the boatman turned into one of +these coves and drove his keel against a grating sand bank. The +passengers jumped out and shook the cramp from their limbs.</p> + +<p>"Is that all, Mr. M——"</p> + +<p>A finger on Dobbs' lips checked the boatman's sentence half-way and a +nod gave the answer to his uncompleted question. Robert was not paying +attention, but when Dobbs touched his arm and led the way up to the +road, he promptly followed. By this time the milkmen and marketmen were +about. A rattle of distant wheels broke the silence now and then. The +dawn-birds trebled their matin greeting and a pearly flush located the +eastern quarter of the sky. After a few turns, Dobbs approached the side +entrance of a large house, not unlike an inn. The waiter who answered +his tap appeared to have been expecting him.</p> + +<p>"'Ere we are, Bobbs, me boy. 'Ere we'll shift our duds and 'ave a talk +over the breakfast victuals. Whew! Hi'm tired! Fetch a lamp, Johnnie, +into the guest chamber. We haren't clemmin' on you, we've got rocks. +Hey, Johnnie?"</p> + +<p>The white-aproned waiter grinned and led them into a private room with a +table in the middle.</p> + +<p>"The porker, Johnnie, and plenty of good hold hale with the fixins."</p> + +<p>Dobbs had drawn his chair up to the table, set Floyd opposite him, and +made one hand wash the other with the true gourmand's expectancy while +he gave this savory order.</p> + +<p>"Well, you bloomin' old milksop! Hi suppose you'll put me in your +prayers now, hey? Hey? Hey?"</p> + +<p>Dobbs poked Robert under the ribs in a fashion which the young man might +have resented in any but a familiar and a benefactor. Apparently his +acknowledgment of his obligation was not warm enough for the cracksman, +who began grumbling in an injured tone.</p> + +<p>"Thankful? Wot's thankful? A word. Hi don't want words. Words is for +magistrates and ministers and such like 'ipocrites. Hi want a mark of +confidence. 'Asn't Dobbs trusted Bobbs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has."</p> + +<p>"Well, w'y won't Bobbs trust Dobbs? Are we mis-mated? Do we work at +cross-purposes? Hi need a pal, Bobbs—upon which you may remark w'ere is +the shillin' comin' from wot's payin' this piper? But there's pals and +pals! And if Hi offer my friendship to a honorable associate Hi made the +acquaintance of while we was both serving in Col. Mainwaring's regiment, +wot's Jim Budge got to say? Cut and run, Jim, says I, and much obliged +for your 'elp. 'Ave a glass, Bobbs?"</p> + +<p>The waiter had brought in several bottles of ale. Robert filled out a +glass of the brown, foaming liquor and poured it down with a gusto that +seemed to cheer Dobbs immensely.</p> + +<p>"The uniform, Johnnie, and don't overtoast the porker."</p> + +<p>Johnnie seemed afflicted once more with his grinning fit, for he stuffed +his apron in his mouth when he got to the door.</p> + +<p>"What are your plans ahead, Dobbs?" asked Floyd, nibbling a pretzel, +while the cracksman helped himself liberally to the ale.</p> + +<p>"My plans is Chicago. Hi'm going into business as a reformer."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha; what will you reform—yourself first, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Hi'll begin on the police force. You haren't a-drinkin', Bobbs. Your +'ealth, me boy, a-standin' toast to the 'ealth of Dobbs' pal. Hip, hip, +hip-oh, 'ere's Johnnie, with the porker."</p> + +<p>Johnnie seemed to have caught a sharp glance from Dobbs on the +threshold, for his grin subsided and he was obsequious in his attentions +to the breakfasting pair. Dobbs accepted them as a lord would the bows +of a lackey, but Robert felt constrained to brush off the importunate +caresses which he had no means of repaying in coin.</p> + +<p>"If there's one meat in creation wot's sweet and savory," said Dobbs +ecstatically, digging a fork in the dish just brought, "it's a juicy +little 3-months-old baby porker, swimmin' in greens and gravy."</p> + +<p>Robert could hardly help smiling while Dobbs carved the young pig, +smacking his lips prodigiously meanwhile.</p> + +<p>"A hearty breakfast, me boy; we've a long ride before us."</p> + +<p>"Where to?"</p> + +<p>"Pitch in and don't spare the gravy—w'ere to? W'ot say to the +Hargentine Republic, w'ere you can sue for your uncle's money by proxy, +hey?"</p> + +<p>"My uncle's money?"</p> + +<p>"It's your'n, now the will's busted."</p> + +<p>"I don't want the money and never wanted it."</p> + +<p>"Then wot are you 'ere for?"</p> + +<p>"Only the fresh air and the trip. I thought they might do me good."</p> + +<p>"See 'ere, Bobbs, if you think Hi'm a-fishin' for a slice o' your +bloomin' pile, Hi'll show you Hi'm straight as a flag-pole. Them's not +the harticles of partnership Hi propose."</p> + +<p>"I never said they were, Dobbs."</p> + +<p>"But your heye says you suspect me, and it don't pay to be too +suspicious, me boy. Hi'm opposed to suspicion, bein' of a hinnocent +nature myself. 'Aven't you learned that, Bobbs, halready? 'Aven't Hi +trusted a hutter stranger with my rat's tooth and gone 'alvesies with +'im, doublin' the risk and not doublin' the enjoyment?"</p> + +<p>"You've placed me under a great obligation, certainly. I wouldn't have +missed this night for the world."</p> + +<p>"'Ere's a 'ealth to it, Bobbs—a standin' toast—and may we never bunk +in the bastile again. Hip, hip, hip—"</p> + +<p>"Here are the clothes, Mr. Mc—"</p> + +<p>The crashing of a beer bottle on the floor cut the name off at the +initial letter, and for some reason Johnnie did not finish it after he +had picked up the fragments.</p> + +<p>"Lay the duds on the chair, Johnnie; we haren't done discussin' the +porker." A black business outfit, including headgear and footgear, bore +witness to the cracksman's foresight. "Bring us some more hale. 'Ave a +pretzel, Bobbs (hic)."</p> + +<p>Bobbs was undeniably succumbing to the influence of his potations, but +Robert knew the thirst-creating properties of salted cracker, so he +declined the proffered morsel.</p> + +<p>"Won't break bread with me! Hi say, Bobbs, this is a houtrage—a +houtrage. W'ere'd you be this minute if it wasn't for me? Afore a tender +little juicy porker, asprawlin' of your legs under the table and +a-facin' a hail jolly Johnnie, w'ich is me? Or snoozin' in a ten-foot +kennel, with sweet dreams o' the swingin' gallows?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be here, certainly, Dobbs."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't be 'ere! That's so. A glass on the 'ead of it. Your 'and, +Bobbs, and your 'ealth. Bobbs says (hic), and Bobbs is a gemman (hic), +Bobbs says he wouldn't be 'ere. But afore we part," here the cracksman +sat down again, "Hi 'ope ee'll show ee's a gemman and not mistrust 'is +pal. Hi ain't no psalm-singer, Bobbs, me boy. Wot's more natural, with a +blank check before 'im, than for the confidential clark to facsimilate +'is marster's hautograph? Wot's the hodds? Hi'll drink with 'im hall the +same—and a glass on the 'ead of it, Bobbs."</p> + +<p>Dobbs was rapidly becoming incoherent and his incoherence took a +boastful turn.</p> + +<p>"Ho, Hi cawn't 'elp a-grinnin, w'en Hi think of old Koerber a-wakin' up +and a-roarin' for 'elp. Didn't Hi do 'im brown, Bobbs (hic)?"</p> + +<p>"He was no match for you, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Ee? Koerber? Lemme tell you there's few in the fawncy stand as 'igh as +Bill Dobbs. Wot's Jim Budge? A hordinary bloomin' safe-cracker as must +'ave a pal. Ee cawn't stand alone, no more'n one leg of a scissors, +which is the Hirish for bachelor. Barney Pease (hic) is truly great, Hi +own. For sleight-of-'and work ee 'as no superior in the three kingdoms."</p> + +<p>"Not even the solitary cracksman?"</p> + +<p>"Not even the solitary cracksman, w'ich is me. But sleight-of-'and +hisn't hall, Bobbs. It's sleight-of-'ead! Do you fawncy Barney Pease +could 'ave got you over that sky-scrapin' wall? It was Bill Dobbs' 'andy +'inge done that. Lor' bless us! We'll be famous for this 'ere night's +outin'."</p> + +<p>"I've a notion you'd be a bad man to cross, Dobbs, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Do you fawncy Hi'd 'urt you, Bobbs, me hangel? Hi wouldn't 'arm you no +more'n a wadge-dog would bark at a baby. Hi'll (hic) Hi'll protect you, +Bobbs."</p> + +<p>Floyd smiled at the cracksman's offer of patronage. But this time he +thought it better not to seal the compact with a bumper.</p> + +<p>"Not drink?" Dobbs' temper had changed again. "Won't drink and won't +give me no mark of 'is confidence—"</p> + +<p>"What is it you want, Dobbs? A confession?"</p> + +<p>"Confession? Hi? Ho!" the cracksman laughed as if the joke were a rich +one. He was far gone, as indeed any man might be after taking so many +quarts of ale.</p> + +<p>"Confession, ho, ho—wot do Hi want of a confession? Hi 'ad a natural +curiosity to know 'ow you set it, and"—his voice assumed reproachful +quavers—"a natural mortification to find that my pal (hic) wouldn't +trust me."</p> + +<p>"Well, the truth is, Dobbs—"</p> + +<p>"Wot is the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Is this house safe? Walls have ears, they say."</p> + +<p>"Safeazherown (hic)."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid—couldn't I write it down—that waiter, you know—" Robert +walked uneasily to the door, but the waiter was not eavesdropping.</p> + +<p>"Waiter," Dobbs rung the bell and Johnnie appeared.</p> + +<p>"Bring me pen and paper." They were brought with expedition.</p> + +<p>"Zhall I 'old the lamp, Bobbs?"</p> + +<p>"It's almost lightsome enough to see, if you draw up the curtains."</p> + +<p>"Hi'll 'old the light, Bobbs."</p> + +<p>"Steady, now, you'll drop it."</p> + +<p>Dobbs staggered over behind Robert, with the lamp in his trembling hand +and stood over the young man's shoulder while he wrote the following +confession:</p> + +<p>"When you pick a lady's pocket on a railway train next time, do it with +your left hand, Mr. McCausl—"</p> + +<p>Before he realized what was happening the lamp had been shattered +against the opposite wall and he found himself forced to the floor, with +a cold circle of steel at his temple.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>BEHIND THE VEIL.</h3> + + +<p>"My mother has your flowers," said Shagarach. "She would be delighted if +you would come to see her."</p> + +<p>It was in response to this invitation that Emily had selected an +appropriate dress from her modest wardrobe and kissed her mother good-by +for the evening. She was at first not a little alarmed when a young man +sidled up to her from behind and began uttering incoherent avowals of +devotion, which not even her chilling glance and hastened step could +check. Kennedy had disappeared for some time,—probably busy extricating +himself from his Dove-Cote scrape,—and she had congratulated herself +on good riddance of the lovesick manikin. But here he was, bolder and +more nauseously enamored than before.</p> + +<p>She felt like summoning a bystander to her aid, but as she was walking +close to the edge of the sidewalk, with Kennedy on the very curbstone, +this appeal for help was rendered unnecessary. A quick, firm shove with +her brave little hands sent the shadow of a man topsy-turvy into the +gutter, while Emily, with burning cheeks and quickened pulse, made on to +the car corner.</p> + +<p>An old Hebrew housemaid answered her ring and ushered her into the tiny +parlor of the tiny house, none too large for even the three persons who +occupied it—and three is the smallest number that can be called a +family. It need not be said that Emily was all a-flutter with the +privilege of admission to the great lawyer's private acquaintance and +that she cast a curious glance upon the surroundings. There was +something oriental about them, even to the barely perceptible odor of +musk in the air.</p> + +<p>The carpet was clocked in a Turkish pattern, though the bough birds +woven in the corners suggested that it came from one of the countries +further east, where the shah, not the sultan, rules under Allah, and the +admonitions of the prophet are less literally observed. The lamp was a +silver fantasy, brazed with arabesques in gold, and the furniture in its +scroll-work and the embroideries, like gossamer, all whispered of a +taste exotic and luxurious.</p> + +<p>Yet the articles were few and severely disposed in their places. A bust +of Swedenborg over a massively carved bookcase, filled with volumes of +royal exterior, attracted Emily's eye. On the opposite wall were several +shelves, crowded with plainer books, as tattered and dingy as a +schoolboy's algebra. A portrait of Spinoza reclined on an easel, and a +well-thumbed Marcus Aurelius, of pocket size, with flexible covers, lay +face down and open on the table. It was a far cry from the Swedish +mystic to the imperial stoic of Rome.</p> + +<p>"You are welcome, Miss Barlow, to my home," exclaimed Shagarach, +extending his hand and sunning her with his great warm eyes.</p> + +<p>"Pardon my curiosity. I am a woman and a book-lover," said Emily, who +had been standing before Shagarach's gorgeous volumes when he crossed +the threshold.</p> + +<p>"They are not secreted from those who can handle them without danger," +answered the lawyer, opening the bookcase.</p> + +<p>"I call them my meeting of the masters."</p> + +<p>Emily marveled at the range and judgment of the selection. Here were +Homer, Dante, Shakespeare and Goethe in the original tongues, which her +own studies just enabled her to distinguish one from the other; the +Koran, the Talmud, the Zend-Avesta; Camoens, Luis de Leon and a dozen +others from the hidalgo land; Maimonides and all the great mediaeval +Hebrews; Keats, Wordsworth and Coleridge—whatever richest remnants +remain from the cultured nations of Europe and western Asia. What rare +powers of acquisition, what hermit-like seclusion from the busy world, +were implied in the ability to read and enjoy these treasures!</p> + +<p>"And which are your especial favorites?" asked Emily.</p> + +<p>"The Persian poets," answered Shagarach, pointing to the uppermost +shelf, where the titles were in characters she could not read, +resembling odd curves of beauty and flourishes of a draughtsman's pen. +"Firdusi, the weaver of the magic carpet, who spurned back the +treasure-laden caravan of the shah; Sadi, the nightingale of a thousand +songs, planter of the rose garden and the garden of trees; Hafiz, the +sugar-lipped dervish of Shiraz, whose couplets are appealed to as +oracles by the simple, and whose legion of commentators surround him +like the stars clustering around the orb of the moon."</p> + +<p>Was this the criminal lawyer, the granite-lipped reasoner of the +immobile forehead, forever pacing to and fro, folding his arms in +solution of problems?</p> + +<p>The memory of the barren law office was vivid upon her, and of the +austere occupant, the last being in the world from whom dithyrambics +would be expected. She found it hard to reconcile the task-ridden +Shagarach with this praiser of Firdusi, the half-fabulous minstrel who +had loved to recline on silken divans, smothered with roses and waited +upon by his hundred slaves.</p> + +<p>"Inspect them," said Shagarach. Emily reached for the Persian shelf. The +books stuck a little, and when they came away she was surprised to find +that they were attached together in sets of five; still more surprised +when she turned them over and saw a fine chain of steel running from +edge to edge through the covers, just where the clasp of an album fits, +and meeting again in an exquisite padlock at the middle volume. All this +splendor of beauty and thought was sealed as effectively as if the pages +had been bathed in glue.</p> + +<p>"The keys to the padlock?" she looked interrogatively. "There is only +one," said Shagarach, a divine smile for the first time breaking the set +curve of his lips. "It fits them all, but the dragon is jealous of its +possession. My mother, Miss Barlow."</p> + +<p>The lady who had entered approached Emily and greeted her warmly.</p> + +<p>"My son said you were beautiful," she said.</p> + +<p>Emily blushed. She was usually disconcerted by praise, but somehow the +entrance of the mother put her more at her ease. Standing beside her +son, the lady appeared to be taller than he, though this may have been +more in looks than in inches, since the standard of stature for women is +lower. The resemblance between them was marked. It was from her that the +son inherited his beauty, for she must have been queenly in her +maiden-hood. Even now her coloring was autumnally perfect, the rich dark +skin, oxidizing like an old painting, having gained in mellowness a part +of what it had lost in brilliancy.</p> + +<p>"We live plainly, you see," she said, speaking with a strong accent, as +if she had learned our stubborn language too late in life ever to master +it.</p> + +<p>"I admire your furnishings," answered Emily, "but your library amazes me +most of all."</p> + +<p>The son and mother exchanged a sparkling glance, while Shagarach +replaced the Persian set on its shelf. But he did not explain the +mystery of his padlocked treasures.</p> + +<p>"Miss Barlow has been wondering at my taste in the poets," he said, +diverting the conversation a little. "She forgets, perhaps, that we are +orientals, a long way back. And still in my dreams at times I feel the +rocking rhythm of the camel ride and the winged bulls of the Assyrians +seem to haunt me like familiar sights."</p> + +<p>All at once Emily remembered that she had often divined a more emotional +and mystical side to the criminal lawyer.</p> + +<p>And then in a flash many things became clear to her—Shagarach's +constant repression of emotion, his frugality and tireless toil, his +shutting out of the gypsy violinist's strain that day when she brought +him the news of Bertha—all these told of some great resignation, the +ruthless division of a dual nature and the discarding of one part, +perhaps the better beloved, and the abandonment with that resignation of +almost all that was personal to him in life—leaving only the restlessly +energizing intellect, the ethical strenuousness as of a modern Isaiah, +the filial love and these sealed mementos of a more congenial but +probably less successful past.</p> + +<p>"And this is Spinoza—the greatest of our race," added Shagarach. "Not +the least refined of human faces."</p> + +<p>"My ancestors were his kinsmen," added the mother, not without pride. +"We were Spanish once and my son can claim the title of count in Spain +if he chose—"</p> + +<p>"And many a castle in that country besides," added the son, smiling the +rare, sweet smile which he reserved for this privacy of his home.</p> + +<p>"But my mother speaks the truth, Miss Barlow. She is an accurate +historian, as you see. An ancestor of mine rose to power in the court of +Ferdinand and left his wealth to two sons. The elder, bearer of the +title, chose exile when our people were harried from Spain. The younger, +by apostatizing, succeeded to his name and property, and the heirs of +that brother still survive in Valencia. That makes us feel for Spinoza, +who was also an exile—and a heretic," he concluded, in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>"This way, Miss Barlow," the mother led Emily through portieres into a +rear room, not unlike the parlor in its furnishings. "Here are the +flowers which you were so good, so thoughtful, to send. I have changed +the water twice every day, and last night put them out to drink in the +rain, for they love the rain from heaven, it is manna to them." The +mother fondled them as if they were living things, and gave them to +Emily to smell. They were indeed wonderfully fresh, considering the +number of days they had been kept.</p> + +<p>Shagarach stepped to the cleft in the portieres and excused himself to +answer a ring at the doorbell. Emily was left chatting alone in the dim +light with his mother. From flowers to other subjects of feminine +interest the transition was easy, and the old lady's vivacity, strong +sense and above all her warmth of heart made the minutes pass +delightfully for the sensitive young girl. She had not been conscious of +any unusual merit in offering Shagarach a simple bouquet, yet it had +deeply touched the lonely son and his devoted mother, both of whom +seemed to regard her now with that intensity of friendship which the +Arab lavishes upon the stranger whom he admits to his hospitality.</p> + +<p>It was while they were alone in the rear chamber, and Shagarach was +conversing in low tones with the visitor behind the drawn +portieres—probably a client calling in the evening—that Emily's +attention was called to a tapping noise which seemed to come from the +window. She thought it best not to speak of it, though it continued for +almost a minute. Besides, she remembered having often arisen in the +night to investigate the origin of just such a tapping, and lifted the +sash to find nothing and hear nothing, not even a departing sparrow, +who, perched on the sill, might have been feeling his way along the +transparent glass. Shagarach's mother was talking herself at the time +and probably the sound of her voice obscured the interruption.</p> + +<p>"Is it not pleasanter in here, mother?" Shagarach had thrown the +portieres aside and stood again in the cleft, widening it for the ladies +to pass. His visitor had been dismissed, but it was a few moments before +he recovered his earlier manner. By a graduated ascent, however, his +conversation rose to its former glow of enthusiasm, and Emily could not +help contrasting its richness and elasticity with the sententiousness, +the compressed statement, bare of all accessories, which characterized +him when at his desk in the office. Probably this was the style he had +used in addressing his caller, and the transition to and fro was not +easy.</p> + +<p>"'Try how the life of a good man suits thee,'" Shagarach began reading +from his Marcus Aurelius; "'the life of him who is satisfied with his +portion out of the whole and satisfied with his own just acts and +benevolent disposition.' That is the advice I gave to my visitor and +charged him nothing for it."</p> + +<p>"It was Simon Rabofsky's voice?" asked the mother keenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Then you did wrong. You should have charged him double. He is a rogue."</p> + +<p>"For the emperor's wisdom?" smiled Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"What mischief is he about?"</p> + +<p>"He wishes to sell Mrs. Arnold's jewels. It is his legal right, since +she has defaulted in the payment, but I have counseled a postponement of +its exercise."</p> + +<p>"And will he postpone it?" asked Emily, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"He? My dear, you do not know him," said the mother. "He is of the tribe +of Aaron, who worshiped the golden calf."</p> + +<p>Emily wondered if some of the proud Spanish blood had not become mingled +with the Hebrew in her veins. Scorn of petty avarice was betrayed in +every line of her noble face. Yet Emily felt sure that it was she who +had called Shagarach away from the companionship of the Persian poets +and impelled him to write his signet on the living world in letters of +self-assertion and honorable achievement.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>AN UNBIDDEN GUEST.</h3> + + +<p>"What tainted people you have to deal with!" she exclaimed, +unconsciously continuing her vein of silent thought. "I should crave +another environment, I think."</p> + +<p>"Your Christ lived with sinners and publicans. And they are not all +tainted, my dear," added the mother, smiling so that Emily might know +whom she meant to except. "There is so much in common between my son and +Mr. Floyd. Both proud, serious, too serious, I tell him, and both true +Castilians in honor. But the one looked about wisely and found him +a—lady; and the other—"</p> + +<p>"The other will grow gray by his good mother's side, I fear," said +Shagarach, gently kissing the laughing and delighted old lady. Emily +smiled herself to see John Davidson's sphinx, whose reticence outside +was indeed a mask of stone, unbending thus to the frankness and +simplicity of a child. The mother's ways were more demonstrative, but +with deep reserves of dignity.</p> + +<p>"But you are right, Miss Barlow. The lawyer's profession is one shade +more distasteful than the surgeon's, for he handles the moral sores of +humanity."</p> + +<p>"Handles them to cure them," cried Emily, shifting about, like a true +woman.</p> + +<p>"Possibly. Though for my own part I agree with those who hold that the +law perpetrates no less wickedness than it punishes—were it not that it +prevents more than it perpetrates," he added, smiling, "we should live +in a very troublesome world. It is a profession which uses the +conscience as a whetstone upon which to sharpen the intellect. I +attribute the venality of our congress and legislatures partly to the +disproportion among them of lawyers."</p> + +<p>"But surely there are exceptions?"</p> + +<p>"In the criminal courts," answered Shagarach. Emily asked herself if +this was Shagarach's destiny, to continue as a criminal lawyer. As if in +answer to her question, he added:</p> + +<p>"There alone one can feel at all times that he is either protecting the +innocent or punishing the guilty. This is my working library," he +pointed to the thumbed volumes on the shelves. Emily noticed that most +of them were treatises on psychology, the old and the new.</p> + +<p>"I do not carry the keys for those," said his mother, gayly.</p> + +<p>"Light to illuminate our case," Shagarach took down one of the books. +"By the way, my correspondent, Mr. Skull-and-Crossbones, has honored me +again."</p> + +<p>The two ladies started and the mother seized her son by the arm.</p> + +<p>"A black-edged letter, apprising me that I am marked and doomed." Just +then Emily heard the strange tapping that had startled her before. It +came from the window of the front parlor this time. She shuddered in a +sudden terror and drew closer to Mrs. Shagarach. The old lady had heard +the sound and blanched a little, but her voice was firm when she spoke:</p> + +<p>"Is that a mouse in the wainscoting, my son?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was a tapping at the window, mother."</p> + +<p>"Go and look. There may be a stranger in the yard."</p> + +<p>Shagarach raised the curtain and looked out, then opened the window. The +cool night air flowed in and heightened Emily's tremors so that the +elder lady took pity on her.</p> + +<p>"There is no one in sight, mother, but I will put on my hat and go out +the back door."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Shagarach returned by the street entrance.</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard footsteps in the passageway and followed them around, +but there is no one. The yard is empty."</p> + +<p>"I will inform the policeman to-morrow," said his mother. "There are +many loiterers about in these bad times. And you should acquaint them +with the letter you received."</p> + +<p>"I have done so, mother. I have considered it strange," he added, +turning toward Emily, "that the parties opposed to us in the Floyd case +should resort to murder. It is a confession of guilt."</p> + +<p>"If they are caught."</p> + +<p>"Murder will out. Moreover, I do not work alone. I have engaged the +assistance of—whom do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Of Mr. McCausland," said the mother, breaking in. "It was my +suggestion."</p> + +<p>"McCausland investigating Harry Arnold!" exclaimed Emily.</p> + +<p>"Is it not amusing? But he will not allow that Arnold is at all open to +suspicion, and of course I have not laid all my evidence before him."</p> + +<p>"But surely the letters are connected with our case, and who else could +it be?"</p> + +<p>Since the finding of the glove and the testimony of the three gamins +Emily was coming around to Shagarach's view of Harry Arnold's possible +guilt and the attack on Robert's lawyer had aroused her sympathies so as +almost if not quite to convince her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. McCausland is very keen—a wonderful man—of deceptive exterior, +but like the rest of us, he sometimes makes mistakes," said Shagarach. +"His defect is that he uses the logical method only and ignores the +psychological. It is necessary first to find out if the accused is +capable of the crime. I first became sure of Robert Floyd's innocence +when I saw him through the cell-bars of the jail. He is incapable of the +crime."</p> + +<p>"My son so admires your lover," added Mrs. Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"These other friends of mine," continued her son, taking down the +thumbed volume which he had put back when the tapping startled them, +"commit the opposite error. They are strictly physiological. They +predict too much from a man's physical peculiarities."</p> + +<p>The book he opened for Emily was a treatment on criminology, illustrated +with villainous heads in profile and full face. It was in Italian, so +Shagarach exchanged it for another.</p> + +<p>"Behold the brands of the true criminal—'enormous zygomae,' 'ear lobes +attached to the cheek,' 'spatulate fingernails——'"</p> + +<p>"That takes in Mr. McCausland," said Emily, roguishly. She had got over +her fright by this time and the allusion to spatulate fingernails +recalled the whole train of events which had ended in the inspector's +discomfiture.</p> + +<p>"The refutation of such theorists," said Shagarach, "is simple. We need +only point to the fact that the greatest crimes are committed by men who +are not professional criminals at all and who do not belong to the +criminal type."</p> + +<p>"Like this man," said the mother, going to a closet at one side and +drawing forth a bundle of photographs. One of them she showed to Emily. +It was Harry Arnold, bold and handsome, with the shaggy cape coat thrown +carelessly over his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Has he enormous zygomae, ear-lobes attached to his cheek?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could see his fingernails," laughed Emily.</p> + +<p>"Arnold's face in repose does not show much capacity for evil. But it +lights up badly. I have seen him crossed and in passion."</p> + +<p>"I think he looks as if he were veined of evil and good," said Emily +frankly, studying the portrait long, as she loved to do. She had seen +Harry once when he was at his best. Besides, her service in the +photograph studio had made her something of a physiognomist, too, though +not, of course, such a soul-reader as Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"His crimes are of the preventable order and therefore the more +culpable. There are men born to crime, as the theorists argue; others +driven to crime. For both of these classes it is hardly more than a +misplaced emphasis, a wrong direction of energies."</p> + +<p>"Here is another volume—I am showing you all my workshop. Does it +fatigue you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing which helps to clear up the mystery is dull to me," answered +Emily.</p> + +<p>"This treatise deals with 'Incidental Homicide.' Rather legal than +clinical. The cases are all parallel to ours. The indictment, by the +way, has just been given out. The weakest count charges Robert Floyd +with arson and murder in the second degree. The punishment for that is +only imprisonment for life."</p> + +<p>"Only! Robert says he would rather be hanged."</p> + +<p>"Let him have no fear of either," said Mrs. Shagarach, cheerily.</p> + +<p>"The newspapers tell us that the government offered much new evidence," +said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"I should like to know what it was," cried Emily, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"So should I. Ordinarily, the grand-jury room is leaky enough, but Mr. +McCausland, who is the government in this case, appears to have found a +way to seal it hermetically."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he padlocked the jurors' lips," suggested Emily, whereat all +three were merry.</p> + +<p>From time to time during the conversation relapses of the old shudder +had come back to Emily, though the tapping had utterly ceased since +Shagarach investigated the yard. He had left the curtain half-raised, so +that any one approaching the window would be visible from within. It was +just at this moment that she happened to change her seat, bringing her +face around to the darkened window. Before the others could catch her, +she had risen, pointed to the window and fallen to the floor with a +terrified shriek.</p> + +<p>Shagarach started to raise her, but the terrible detonation of a pistol +rung out, sacrilegiously invading their quietude. Then all was darkness, +a noise of crashing glass telling that the lamp had been shattered and +extinguished. Another report followed and another. Mrs. Shagarach, +trembling, heard her son quickly crossing to the window. The panes +seemed to be broken, and there were sounds of a scuffle, mingled with a +gnashing of teeth and growls more animal than human. Suddenly, with a +ripping sound, the scuffle ceased, and rapid footsteps were heard +pattering away. Then her son spoke to her in the loud, firm voice which +he used in all practical affairs.</p> + +<p>"Light the little lamp, mother. It is safe now. There are matches on the +mantel."</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt, Meyer?" she asked, anxiously, while lighting the lamp.</p> + +<p>"A little," he answered.</p> + +<p>"You were shot, my son?" she cried, embracing him.</p> + +<p>"No. Let us revive Miss Barlow. Some water, Rachel," he said to the old +servant who had come to the door.</p> + +<p>When Emily came to she found Mrs. Shagarach sponging her forehead, while +her son was washing his hands in a basin of bloody water.</p> + +<p>"Wrap the cotton around them quickly, Rachel," he was saying. "I must +notify the police."</p> + +<p>"Meyer, it is not safe."</p> + +<p>Emily heard the mother protesting, then swooned again. When full +consciousness returned the lawyer was gone and the three women were +alone in the room. Rachel began picking up the fragments of the lamp. +Only its chimney and globe had been broken, the metal being still +intact. The windowpanes showed great ragged holes, which explained the +laceration of Shagarach's hands.</p> + +<p>"Poor lady," cried the mother. "This is ill treatment we give you. But +we are not to blame. It is the wicked enemies who are pursuing us +all—your lover and my son." With terms of endearment she petted the +weak girl back into a coherent understanding of her position. But every +now and then the remembrance of something would cause her to shudder +again visibly; whereat the elder lady would renew her caresses.</p> + +<p>"I have notified the policeman. That was the best I could do," said +Shagarach, re-entering. He looked extremely grave. It was a narrow +escape for one or more of the three. "This is all I have to identify +him by. It was detached in the struggle."</p> + +<p>He laid a common coat button down on the table, with a piece of cloth +adhering.</p> + +<p>"That face! Who could ever forget it?" cried Emily.</p> + +<p>"You saw him, then?" asked son and the mother in one breath.</p> + +<p>"Shall I call it 'him'? Was it a man?" answered Emily. "Rather a +monster, no more than half-human."</p> + +<p>"It had the form of a man," said Shagarach, "as I felt it through the +glass."</p> + +<p>Rachel was busy bandaging his cuts with plaster during this +conversation, but they bled through, calling for the surgeon's thread.</p> + +<p>"But it snarled like a tiger," said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Oh the wild, blue eyes! They were staring at me through the cleft of +the draperies. And the demon leer, and the forehead, retreating like a +frog's——"</p> + +<p>"It is the oaf I passed on the pier," cried Shagarach, interrupting +Emily. "We have found Mr. Skull-and-Crossbones."</p> + +<p>"Oaf? What is oaf?" asked the mother.</p> + +<p>"An idiot, a monster."</p> + +<p>She shuddered.</p> + +<p>"A man of that description cannot long elude search," said the son in a +more hopeful tone.</p> + +<p>"They are often very cunning," replied the mother.</p> + +<p>"Can it be Harry Arnold would employ such an agent?" asked Emily, still +trembling.</p> + +<p>"Twice," said Shagarach, as if speaking to himself. "A cap and a button. +Men have been captured on slighter clews."</p> + +<p>"You will give the button to Mr. McCausland," said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes; since it fits with the cap."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he will help you to bring Harry Arnold to justice."</p> + +<p>"And so to acquit Robert Floyd," said Shagarach, smiling to cheer his +guest.</p> + +<p>The mention of her lover restored the wilted girl, who was brave enough +when there was anything definite to be done. Shagarach showed her the +book on "Arson" which he had been holding when the first shot was fired. +The bullet had pierced it on its career toward the lamp.</p> + +<p>"The bullets will be evidence also," he said, "and I will measure the +footprints before the rain comes down and washes them away."</p> + +<p>"You will wish to go home, poor child," said Mrs. Shagarach to Emily. +"Not yet, but soon, when you are stronger. Rachel!"</p> + +<p>The soothing words of the mother warmed Emily quite as much as the wine +which Rachel brought. Meanwhile two policemen entered and began to +examine the premises. Shagarach visited the yard in their company and +soon returned with a tape measure and a paper block, on which he had +recorded the lengths of the footprints.</p> + +<p>He was assiduous in his regrets and inquiries toward Emily and insisted +on accompanying her home in a carriage, which the mother, however, would +not allow them to enter until she had exacted from her visitor a promise +that she would come again on an appointed evening, and pressed upon her +in true oriental fashion a certain rose-embroidered gossamer scarf for +which Emily had expressed admiration.</p> + +<p>At her own door the sweet girl heard Shagarach order the hackman to +drive to Dr. Lund's, and she guessed that his cuts would be somewhat +worse for the delay in stitching them. That night she saw gorgon faces +leering in at her window, and her dreams were of new-moon scimiters and +the rocking of the camel ride.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>JACOB AND DELILAH.</h3> + + +<p>"Put your wrists together!"</p> + +<p>The voice was totally different from Dobbs' whine; a strong, deep +register, like a ledge of the basal rock peeping out from a smiling +meadow. For the first time Robert felt the veiled strength which resided +in the detective's character. There was no option but to obey.</p> + +<p>"Pull up the curtains, Johnnie."</p> + +<p>The servant had been attracted by the crash of the lamp. A faint stream +of daylight entered the chamber, and the noises of the city could be +heard in the distance. McCausland's face seemed to have altered in every +line.</p> + +<p>"Get a hack! Jump into those shoes!" He tossed a curt order right and +left, one for Johnnie, the other for Robert.</p> + +<p>"To the county jail," was his direction to the hack driver. Robert +wondered at this, but he sat back smiling and said nothing during all +the ride.</p> + +<p>"Here's your prisoner," said McCausland when they arrived. It was not +yet 6 o'clock, but the sheriff was up and showed no great surprise. +Robert wondered at this again and his amazement was not abated when they +assigned him to his original cell in murderers' row. However, the change +was to his liking, for the surroundings were less presageful of +permanency.</p> + +<p>"You missed your vocation as a character actor," was his parting shot at +McCausland.</p> + +<p>It is easy to imagine the dismay in the prison that morning when the +escape was discovered. Col. Mainwaring was a very different man from +Warden Tapp, and for a time it looked as though McCausland might lose +his badge. But when he showed an order from the sheriff empowering him +to bring the body of Robert Floyd from the state prison back to the +county jail, which had now been put in repair, Col. Mainwaring saw a +light; and when McCausland pointed out that he had laid his finger +precisely on certain weaknesses of the bastile, frequently suggested +without avail to Tapp, the new warden thanked him pleasantly.</p> + +<p>The story at first was given to the public that Inspector McCausland had +captured the fugitive, Robert Floyd, and for a time not only did the +detective's cap wear a bright new feather but all the credit of Robert's +conduct during the riot was canceled by this outbreak, which was +construed as a confession of guilt. But of course the truth leaked out, +and the failure of his "nest-egg game," with its brilliant but desperate +climax, was made the occasion of much chaffing to the contriver.</p> + +<p>"Has Bill Dobbs been taken yet?" a brother-in-buttons would ask him; and +the two lovers had many a good laugh over the game which they had played +and won. For the first time since the great shadow fell across them they +were as happy and hopeful as lovers should be, and for several days +little smiles of reminiscence would creep into the corners of Emily's +lips while she was touching out the blemishes in some negative destined +to pass from young Amaryllis to her Strephon or old Darby to his Joan.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Shagarach, too, was interesting himself in the study of +photographs.</p> + +<p>"Have they all been returned?" he asked Aronson one morning.</p> + +<p>"All but Meester Davidson's."</p> + +<p>"And none of the neighbors saw Arnold coming out?"</p> + +<p>"They all shake their heads and say no, they don't know that face."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Jacob may put them in his desk. We shall hardly need them +again. Go over to the second session and answer for me in the Morrow +case. I am expecting Mr. McCausland."</p> + +<p>"Speak of angels," said the inspector, entering cordially. "You know the +rest of the saying."</p> + +<p>"Good-morning. Be seated."</p> + +<p>It did not escape even modest Saul Aronson what a contrast the +antagonists made, sitting with the table between them. McCausland had, +apparently, not glanced around with more than casual interest, yet, if +blindfolded then and there and put to the test, he could have surprised +those who did not know him with the minute and copious inventory of the +office, not excluding its occupants, which this glance had furnished +him. It was this, with his almost infallible memory, which made him so +formidable an opponent at whist. Shagarach was hardly his equal in mere +perception, perhaps not his superior in analysis, when the subject was +within McCausland's range. His advantage lay, if anywhere, as he had +said himself, in his deeper insight into the human soul, in his +psychological reach.</p> + +<p>"Sorry I was out when you called the other day," said McCausland. "I've +been looking up your matter."</p> + +<p>"With what result?"</p> + +<p>"These clippings may interest you."</p> + +<p>Shagarach glanced rapidly over the newspaper scraps.</p> + +<p>"The Broadbane murder—I remember that well."</p> + +<p>"It occurred about a week before your first attack. You remember +Broadbane lured the young woman to a lonely bridge in his carriage and +threw her into the river."</p> + +<p>"The circumstances were similar to my adventure. The second item is +strange to me."</p> + +<p>"It's from a New York paper, dated July 28—the very day before your +second attack. The circumstances are closely similar this time again. A +jealous husband shot his wife through the window of her room."</p> + +<p>"Our monster reads, then."</p> + +<p>"He is a lunatic (puff)," said McCausland, who had lighted his +invariable cigar.</p> + +<p>"You believe so?"</p> + +<p>"The evidence convinces me. They have an itch to imitate, as you are +aware. This man is a victim of homicidal mania, of which you have +unfortunately become the object (puff)."</p> + +<p>"Why Shagarach and not another?"</p> + +<p>"Newspaper notoriety. You should see my crop of cranks. This particular +crack-brain has aimed his illusion at you. We must strait-jacket him +before it goes further."</p> + +<p>"You expect, then, to have him soon?"</p> + +<p>"Sooner or later (puff). Let us know if you hear anything. I see you +were hurrying off as I came in. Good-day."</p> + +<p>McCausland had been deputed to investigate the attacks on Shagarach, +because they connected themselves so manifestly, through the threatening +letters, with the Floyd case, which he was handling. Neither he nor +Shagarach had objected to this opportunity to meet and possibly force +each other's hands a little.</p> + +<p>"I shall be in the Criminal Court, second session, Jacob. Remain here +till Mr. Aronson comes." Shagarach was gone and Jacob left alone to his +meditations.</p> + +<p>To judge from his expression, they were never very pleasant. Perhaps, +like Job of old, he daringly questioned the power behind human destiny, +why he showers cleverness and attraction on one boy of 14, while another +is afflicted with a manner of nose preposterous, conspicuous and +undistinguishable, to carry which is a burden. That godlike young man in +the photograph, how he would like to be as handsome as he! Was there no +way to attain it? He took the bundle of photographs out of his drawer +and laid them on his desk to study and admire.</p> + +<p>While thus engaged the jingle of harness outside attracted him. He knew +by the sound that the carriage had stopped before his door. It wasn't +often that equipages, sprinkling sleigh-bell music in their course, +paused at the door of the dingy old business building. So Jacob became +interested enough to approach the window of the inner office languidly +and peep down into the street.</p> + +<p>There stood a covered black carriage, as polished as a mirror, with a +buff-liveried coachman holding the reins. His seat was perched so high +that his legs made one straight, unbending line to the footrest, and his +back was as vertical as a carpenter's plummet. Mrs. Arnold was not +careless of these niceties. It would have shocked her sense of the +fitness of things almost as much to publish the fact that her coachman +had knees, as if her own lorgnette should stray from the proscenium box +higher than the first balcony—an impropriety which had happened only +once to her knowledge, and that by inadvertence, on an opera night.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Shagarach's office, I believe," said the grand lady to +Jacob.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," he mumbled, abashed.</p> + +<p>"He is out, I perceive. Does he return soon?"</p> + +<p>"No'm."</p> + +<p>"About when could I see him if I should wait?"</p> + +<p>"He is trying a case'm, over in the second court'm, criminal session," +answered Jacob, mixing things badly in his confusion.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you send for him?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Aronson will be here soon. Perhaps he would know."</p> + +<p>"I will wait a few minutes," said the lady, sitting down with hauteur in +the cushioned chair which Jacob pushed toward her. After a spell of +silence she addressed him again in a gentler tone:</p> + +<p>"What is your name, little boy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Jacob," he answered. Servants and office boys grow to think of +themselves as having only one name.</p> + +<p>"Jacob. That is a very old and dignified name. Are you Mr. Shagarach's +clerk?"</p> + +<p>"No'm."</p> + +<p>"His errand boy, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>"It's too bad you had to leave school so young. I suppose you give all +you earn to your mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you any father?"</p> + +<p>"No'm."</p> + +<p>Jacob thought he had never met such a kind lady. How sympathetic she +seemed and was it not gracious of her to inquire about his father and +mother? How much more agreeable it was to deal with real ladies and +real gentlemen who never, never would call vulgar names. He would have +given almost half his week's spending money to oblige this sweet-tongued +lady then, and his only regret was that he could think of no better +answer to her questions than "Yes'm" and "No'm."</p> + +<p>"If you are an errand boy perhaps you could do a little errand for me," +said the lady sweetly after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," answered Jacob, putting a world of eagerness into the word.</p> + +<p>"You are sure you can do errands and not make a mistake?"</p> + +<p>"No'm—yes'm," he replied, a little puzzled as to which of the two words +which seemed to constitute his whole vocabulary fitted into his meaning +here.</p> + +<p>"Then, perhaps, I will let you take this for me."</p> + +<p>She drew out the tiniest, daintiest purse Jacob's eyes had ever beheld, +and, opening its clasp, gingerly fingered forth a bill.</p> + +<p>"I want very much to have this changed. Mr. Shagarach will not be back +immediately, you say?"</p> + +<p>"No'm."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you can spare a moment to run down to the corner and get +some silver for this."</p> + +<p>"They'll change it upstairs," said Jacob, at last finding his voice.</p> + +<p>"Upstairs? Very well, you may take it upstairs and bring me back small +silver, Jacob."</p> + +<p>With a skip of elation Jacob mounted the stairs. There was a little +delay in the mission, to which he had repaired. When he came downstairs, +the silver clutched in his hand, his heart rose to his mouth at +discovering that the office was empty. To think that he had kept the +kind lady waiting so long! Probably she had become disgusted with him. +He stood a moment in perplexity. Then glancing at his own desk, he +opened his mouth in horror.</p> + +<p>"My pictures!" cried Jacob. The photographs were gone.</p> + +<p>If there was one being that Jacob reverenced and feared it was his +master. To feel now that he had betrayed him at the prompting of a grand +lady, who deceived him with honeyed words and was undoubtedly one of his +master's enemies—how could he ever face Shagarach again?</p> + +<p>"My pictures!" he cried a second time, running into the entry. But here +at the head of the stairs a dubitation seized him. Shrill and re-echoing +through the narrow passage came the flute-like warble which Jacob knew +only too well. It was the precursor of torment for him. True, the +Whistler himself had almost ceased to pick on the office boy and even +taken him under his wing of late, but Turkey Fenton and Toot Watts were +as implacable as inquisitors turning a heretic on a lukewarm gridiron.</p> + +<p>Turkey's tyranny was of the grosser order, as became an urchin who in +Jacob's presence had swallowed a whole banana, skin and all. Toot's +nature was subtle and spiderlike. He possessed the enviable distinction +of being able to wag his ears, and his devices of torture were +correspondingly refined and ingenious. During the last visit of the boys +he had played a small mirror into Jacob's eyes all the while behind +Shagarach's back, and it wasn't until they were going out that Jacob +discovered why he had been dazzled almost to blindness.</p> + +<p>If he took the stair route down he would be stopped and teased and the +wicked lady would get away. Perhaps she was already gone—gone with the +photographs which should have been securely locked in his drawer. Why +had he ever taken them out?</p> + +<p>The emergency was desperate and Jacob met it heroically. Rushing to +Shagarach's window, he saw the grand lady just crossing the sidewalk and +waving her parasol to the coachman. In a moment she would be ensconced +on the cushions within and the disaster would be beyond remedy. The +window was open, and there was a little piazza outside. Jacob stepped +out and shouted. The lady looked up and hastened her pace. Leading down +to the first story from the piazza was a flight of steps, and from the +first story down to within twelve feet of the ground, another—an +old-fashioned fire-escape.</p> + +<p>Down these steps Jacob scrambled, scratching his hands and nearly losing +his balance, to the first piazza and thence to the lowermost round, +where the awful fall of twelve feet checked him. But the sight of the +coachman mounting his box nerved his courage and he released his hands. +For a moment he felt dizzy. But the horses were already started. With a +flying leap he caught the tailboard in his hand, and after being dragged +along with great giraffe-like bounds for nearly a block managed to draw +himself up to something like a sitting position.</p> + +<p>There, through an eye-shaped dead-light in the back of the carriage he +obtained a dim view of its occupant. His master's stolen pictures were +in her hand. What was she kissing them for—and crying? But Jacob was +determined to have no pity upon her. He had just resolved to call out +and demand her attention, when the crack of a lash made him turn and his +lip began to tingle. The coachman had discovered his unlawful presence +on the tailboard and had reached him with just the tip end of his whip.</p> + +<p>Probably he had meant only to frighten the lad. If so, he had thoroughly +succeeded. Again the whip curled backward over the coachman's shoulder +and snapped like a pistol shot close to Jacob's ear. To add to his +discomfort a great St. Bernard, which had been running under the +carriage, had become aware of his intrusion, and began rearing at him in +a manner more alarming than dangerous, to be sure, but sufficient to +make a peaceable lad tremble. Between the whip and the dog's teeth his +ride had begun to be worse torture than the gantlet of the stairway, +flanked by the three gamins, would have been, when the ordeal was +brought to a sudden end by the stopping of the carriage at a great brick +railroad station.</p> + +<p>Jacob's time had come. Disregarding the St. Bernard, he jumped down and +stood on the sidewalk. The dog growled and the coachman spoke to him +roughly as he opened the door with practiced alacrity for his mistress. +But Jacob was now within his legal rights.</p> + +<p>"I want my pictures," he said, catching the grand lady by the arm. Mrs. +Arnold looked down at him with amazement not unmingled with fear. It was +the same stupid little boy she had bribed to go upstairs in the office +where Harry's photographs had been lying—for no good purpose, her +instincts told her.</p> + +<p>"What does this little ragamuffin say?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I want my photographs," said Jacob, doggedly, as the coachman shoved +him aside. He ran after Mrs. Arnold, the tears in his eyes, and clung to +her dress. A scene was imminent. The policeman approached, doubtless to +render assistance to the lady in distress. But Mrs. Arnold did not +desire his assistance just then. With a quick motion she removed a +parcel from her pocket and placed it in Jacob's hands.</p> + +<p>"Take back your things, then, and don't bother me," she said, with a +flushed face.</p> + +<p>Jacob gloated on his recovered treasures. Then his hands likewise sought +his trousers pocket, and he jingled a handful of silver into Mrs. +Arnold's hand.</p> + +<p>"Take the money, Joseph," she said to the coachman. "These small +storekeepers are so ill-mannered."</p> + +<p>The policeman gave Jacob a hard look as he passed him, but the office +boy was obliviously counting his pictures.</p> + +<p>When he returned to the office the gamins were gone and Aronson was +there alone. To Aronson's question where he had been, Jacob, not being +an imaginative boy, gave an answer which was strictly truthful, +whereupon Aronson, not being a humorous young man (for such are always +grave), laughed immoderately, and proposed that the fire escape +henceforth be known as Jacob's ladder.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>CUPID TAKES AIM.</h3> + + +<p>"Mother, my friend, Miss March."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arnold came forward on the rose-embroidered veranda. An old look +crept into her face. Her brow darkened. Her heart froze. But love +conquered jealousy, and for Harry's sake she took both hands of the +young woman whom she knew he loved, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Tristram March."</p> + +<p>"Welcome to Hillsborough. Will you not come inside?"</p> + +<p>"Let's sit on the veranda," said Harry, throwing himself on a seat. +"It's cooler here."</p> + +<p>The others became seated and submitted their foreheads to the cool +caresses of the breeze.</p> + +<p>"I enjoy your road from the station so much, Mrs. Arnold. It winds like +a river all the way," said Tristram March.</p> + +<p>"A narrow river, I fear, and rough in parts," answered the lady.</p> + +<p>"Do you know I like a soft country road. It seems padded for the horse's +hoofs," said Miss March.</p> + +<p>"Rosalie is a philanthropist, you know. She is vice-president—one of +the vice-presidents—I believe there are nineteen—of the ladies' league +for the abolition of race dissension in the south by the universal +whitewashing of negroes."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold knows better than to believe that."</p> + +<p>"A chimerical plan, I should call it," said Mrs. Arnold.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," added Tristram. "Most scientific. The whitewash is +indelible. All charity fads must be scientific nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Brother Tristram plays the cynic, Mrs. Arnold," said Rosalie. "But he +has an excellent heart of his own."</p> + +<p>"It is a burned-out crater," said Tristram, solemnly, at which Harry +burst into a laugh and the sister smiled.</p> + +<p>Watching her furtively, Mrs. Arnold saw that she was as exquisite a +masterpiece as nature had ever put forth. Her figure was virginal and +full; her manner, auroral; her age, Hebe's, the imperceptible poise of +the ascending ball before it begins to descend, which in woman is +earlier by a decade than in man; her coloring, a mixture of the wild +rose and gold. Art seconded nature; she was faultlessly dressed. In that +instant of inspection the mother knew that her son's heart had been +weaned from her forever. She had always felt that it would be a blonde +woman. Are they charged with opposite magnetisms from northern and +southern poles, that they attract each other so, the dark type and the +fair?</p> + +<p>"Will you never be serious, Tristram?" cried Rosalie.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, the crater has humming-birds' nests built along its inner +sides, like the old volcano of Chocorua, and the little winged jewels +flash out sometimes and land in Sister Rosalie's lap."</p> + +<p>"What is this?"</p> + +<p>"You prefer rubies. I picked those up at a sale in the city. Did you +ever meet such stones—perfect bulbs?"</p> + +<p>"How can I ever rebuke you again?"</p> + +<p>"Then I needn't try to be serious?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it's a bribe——"</p> + +<p>"Look at the name on the plate behind—'Alice.'"</p> + +<p>"That will have to be changed," said Harry, coming nearer to glance at +the brooch. "Why!" he snatched at the jewels, but caught himself in +time. His mother looked at him in an eloquent appeal for silence.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get them?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Rabofsky. An old bric-a-brac man. Why, do you fancy they're stolen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I congratulate your sister. The name made me start. It is my +mother's, you know."</p> + +<p>"I was Alice Brewster," said Mrs. Arnold.</p> + +<p>"Speaking of philanthropists, Rosalie," said Tristram, to change the +subject, "how did you like the noble Earl of Marmouth?"</p> + +<p>"The most overbearing person."</p> + +<p>"With the courtesy of a snapping-turtle," said Tristram.</p> + +<p>"And the humor of a comic valentine," added Harry.</p> + +<p>"Still there is something grand about the title of earl," said Mrs. +Arnold, who chose to forget that the original Brewster of Lynn was a +yeoman.</p> + +<p>"Mme. Violet interested me more," said Rosalie. "Rumor is linking their +names, you know. I feel that she and I might become friends."</p> + +<p>"She has just the saving spark of deviltry that you lack, Rosalie."</p> + +<p>"It isn't every brother who can call his sister an angel so happily," +said Mrs. Arnold.</p> + +<p>"Nothing was farther from his thoughts than to compliment me, Mrs. +Arnold. You should hear him abuse me in private. I am a philistine, a +prude. But I grow accustomed to his taunts."</p> + +<p>"Dear Rosalie, you are only not esthetic because you are so divinely +moral. Just think, she objects to my marble cupids, that they are not +ashamed of their innocence."</p> + +<p>"Surely that is going far," interposed Harry, who had long been silent. +"The modeling was capital. Most little cupids are just doughy duplicates +of each other. But yours have character—baby-face wisdom—Puck and +Ariel linking arms."</p> + +<p>"Say two Pucks, Harry, or Rosalie will moralize. Ariel was a wicked +little sprite. He used to go on bats."</p> + +<p>Rosalie lifted a finger of reproof.</p> + +<p>"But from my standpoint a dash of wickedness is just the sine qua non in +art. How fascinating the Inferno is! And how tame the Paradiso! In art, +do I say? In religion itself? What the horizon line is to the +landscape—a rare pageant you have before you, Mrs. Arnold—such is the +fall in the garden to the faith of our fathers."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that it separates earth from heaven?" laughed Harry.</p> + +<p>"You would think, to hear this grumbler, it was his strait-laced sister +and not his own laziness that prevented him from—" Rosalie hesitated.</p> + +<p>"From amounting to something. Say it out. Ah, Rosalie, you have indeed +achieved. Your Rosalind is divine, Carp says—and surely Carp knows."</p> + +<p>"And Portia," added Harry.</p> + +<p>"While my medallions——"</p> + +<p>"Would be glorious if they were ever finished. But come," continued +Harry, "I must dress for my wager. Where's Indigo?"</p> + +<p>"He is about the house, Harry."</p> + +<p>"What a name! Your valet, I suppose?" asked Tristram.</p> + +<p>"And secretary. That is, he answers my duns."</p> + +<p>"And so spares you the blues?"</p> + +<p>"Punning again, Tristram," said Rosalie. "And you profess not to +consider word-plays respectable."</p> + +<p>"Right, always right, Rosalie."</p> + +<p>The party passed inside, and the Marches were escorted to their rooms, +while Harry went in quest of Indigo. When he returned he found his +mother alone in the front room. She seemed to be awaiting him.</p> + +<p>"The rubies, mother?"</p> + +<p>"They were mine. Sit down, Harry. I must speak with you."</p> + +<p>Her manner was sad, and Harry thought in the strong light her face +looked careworn.</p> + +<p>"We are very much pressed for money—temporarily, of course. As soon as +your uncle's estate is settled our income will be larger than ever; and +even without that, Mr. Hodgkins has hopes——"</p> + +<p>"But mother, you did not sell the rubies?"</p> + +<p>"I have sold all my jewels, Harry."</p> + +<p>Harry stood up. His mother gave him a long look. She had made this +sacrifice for him. He understood and colored when he remembered the fate +of the money his mother's rubies had brought. It was luck alone which +had saved their name from a blot on the evening when McCausland raided +the Dove-Cote.</p> + +<p>"I must curtail my expenses," he said, rising to go.</p> + +<p>"There is another matter, Harry," said his mother, still sadly but +gently. "I saw Mr. McCausland in town today. He desires you to testify +at your cousin's trial."</p> + +<p>"Testify against Bob!"</p> + +<p>"It is in relation to the will—the disinheriting of your cousin."</p> + +<p>"Why, he admits that himself."</p> + +<p>"He may deny it if his conviction hangs upon that point Mr. McCausland +wishes to leave no weak link in the chain."</p> + +<p>"Hang it, mother, I don't want to be mixed up in it. Think of the +looks."</p> + +<p>"All he wants is a word. You heard your cousin say he was disinherited +under the will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is—why, of course, I knew it. He told me at the jail that +day."</p> + +<p>"Then I will write to Mr. McCausland that your testimony covers that +point——"</p> + +<p>"No, but mother——"</p> + +<p>Rosalie March re-entered at this moment. Her first glance was toward +Harry and his toward her. Their thoughts had been traveling the same +route and meeting half-way all during the talk on the veranda, when +Harry was so unwontedly silent. Alas, he knew well that he was unfit +even to look at her.</p> + +<p>In their outward demeanor to each other he was embarrassed and she +reserved. The religious difference seemed likely to be permanent. For +Rosalie was a Catholic, the daughter of an eminent Maryland family, as +historic and proud as the Brewsters and more wealthy than even the +Arnolds. But this barrier between them only acted with the charm of a +material fence over which or through which a rustic couple are plighting +forbidden troth.</p> + +<p>"All ready to win my wager," cried Tristram, following his sister in. +He, also, had changed his attire, and looked very handsome in his +curling Vandyke beard of the cut which artists affect.</p> + +<p>"What wager is that?" asked Mrs. Arnold.</p> + +<p>"We passed the river coming down, and I offered to canoe the rapids."</p> + +<p>"And the river so low, Harry. It is rash."</p> + +<p>"Would you have them set me down a boaster?" Harry was eager now. His +mother knew "them" meant "her," and her heart yearned more and more to +the son who was drifting away.</p> + +<p>"Indigo!" he cried out the window to his valet.</p> + +<p>"But the danger—was it not there the canoeist was drowned last year?" +said his mother, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Hang the danger! It's the prospect of scraping the bottom off my new +canoe that troubles me."</p> + +<p>"Old age is privileged to prate, I suppose," said Mrs. Arnold, feebly +attempting to smile.</p> + +<p>"Cut the fingers off that lemon-colored mitten, Indigo, and get me some +salve double quick. My oar blister's worse than ever."</p> + +<p>Indigo sped up stairs for the scissors, and the party was soon on its +way.</p> + +<p>At the bridge Harry left them, proceeding alone to the boat-house, +up-stream, while Indigo led the others to a rock below the rapids, where +they were to witness the feat. To look at the long slope, nowhere steep, +but white from end to end with foam, it did seem incredible that any +craft could live through such a surge. The murmur was audible far away +in the still countryside, and the air, even where the three onlookers +stood, was moist with impalpable spray.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though that wager was mine," said Tristram. "He might as well +try to swim Niagara."</p> + +<p>"Ought we not to have a rope in case of accident?" said Mrs. Arnold.</p> + +<p>"By all means," cried Rosalie, and for an instant the two women were one +in sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Indigo," said Mrs. Arnold, "go over to Farmer Hedge's and procure a +stout rope. If anything should happen——"</p> + +<p>"Nothing will happen," said Indigo. But he obeyed her command, and +departed in the direction of the nearest farmhouse. The moments were +long drawn out with anxiety before he returned, until at last even +Tristram's sallies could not draw a smile from the two ladies. So he +coolly took out a pad of white paper, sharpened his pencil and sketched +off the rapids.</p> + +<p>"There he comes," cried Rosalie, peering up-stream.</p> + +<p>"Harry!" murmured Mrs. Arnold, as her son rounded a bend of the river +into view. Already he was coasting down without using his paddle. His +brown arms rested on the handle before him and his muscles, seemingly +relaxed, were tense for exertion.</p> + +<p>A great log which had preceded him down had been whirled around like a +chip and finally submerged, reappearing only in the clear water forty +yards beyond. A similar fate surely awaited the light cockleshell which +bore the beloved life.</p> + +<p>As his canoe half-turned, Harry pushed his paddle into the water. +Evidently it met a rock, for the prow righted at once and swept down a +narrow channel where the rush was swiftest, but the foam seemed parted +in two. Here again it caught, poised and spun around. It was fast on a +ledge, and the young athlete was straining every sinew to push it off. +While he was struggling in this peril, Indigo came down, staggering +under a coil of thick rope.</p> + +<p>"Indigo," said Mrs. Arnold, excitedly, "throw him the rope."</p> + +<p>Indigo stood on the bank, but instead of obeying, ran farther down to a +rock that jutted over the clear water where the rapids ended. On his way +he heard the ladies shrieking.</p> + +<p>"His oar is broken."</p> + +<p>"But he has worked himself free," said Tristram, nonchalantly sketching. +"He will win, confound it! Yet it's worth losing once to see that play +of his right deltoid."</p> + +<p>Harry's paddle had indeed broken in the last successful shove, but it +was a double blade, and the half in his hand was used to good advantage. +As he came sweeping down, his eyes intent on the prow before him, +Tristram raised his hat and the ladies leaned forward, waving their +kerchiefs. Harry answered their salute by standing up in the boat. It +was a superb piece of bravado.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"He doesn't always wear a glove canoeing?" asked Mrs. Arnold of Indigo. +Harry had just put ashore an eighth of a mile down stream.</p> + +<p>"No, the mate to that one's lost," replied the valet, "and Mr. Harry +told me to cut it up for his hand."</p> + +<p>"When lost and where?" said Rosalie.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that."</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you."</p> + +<p>"What a sibyl!" exclaimed brother Tristram.</p> + +<p>"It was on Broad street, the afternoon of the fire. Don't you remember, +when we saw him crossing the street so hurriedly and I remarked he had +only one glove on."</p> + +<p>"You must be mistaken," said Mrs. Arnold. "Harry was ill at home all +that day."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>MATER DOLOROSA.</h3> + + +<p>Honora Riley, who washed for Mrs. Barlow, lived in a ramshackle, +desolate district of the city which was appropriately known as "the +Barrens." Colliers, sooty to the eyerims, trudging home; ashy +dump-pickers; women cowled in drab shawls from beneath whose folds +peeped pitchers brimmed with foam like the whipped surface of the milk +pail, but the liquor was not milk; such were the sights Emily noticed +when she called at Mrs. Riley's to inquire whether it was a spell of +illness that had prevented her from coming to wash that Monday.</p> + +<p>"Come in," a feeble voice answered her knock. "Oh, is it you, Miss +Barlow?"</p> + +<p>Emily saw that the supper on the table, laid for two, was untasted, and +that the eyes of the woman who sat on the chair clasping her knees +before her, were red.</p> + +<p>"We thought you might be ill, Mrs. Riley," she said.</p> + +<p>"It is heartsick I am, and too broken-hearted to work, dear. Land knows +I have good reason or I wouldn't fail your mother."</p> + +<p>"It isn't the pneumonia again, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Shame and loneliness have come upon me in my old age," said Mrs. Riley, +wiping her tears with the corner of her tidy apron. "They've taken +Walter away."</p> + +<p>"Who took him away?"</p> + +<p>"The officer came with a warrant this morning—and he my only child, and +the kindest boy to his mother, with no harm or wickedness in him at all, +at all."</p> + +<p>Walter was Mrs. Riley's only child, the last of seven. All the others +had preceded their father to the grave, narrowing the resources of the +little family with continual illnesses and funerals. Finally her husband +himself, an honest roofer, had been fatally injured in a fall and had +passed away, kissing the six-months' infant who would never know a +father. This was long ago. For this child the good mother had provided +by her willing labor, and he had grown to be her pride and hope, a +promising boy of 14.</p> + +<p>"'It was a bicycle he stole,' said the officer, 'away out in the +country.' 'But I never meant to steal it, mother,' says Walter, and the +boy was that truthful he never lied to a soul that breathes. 'I never +meant to steal it, mother,' he says," repeated Mrs. Riley softly, her +grief overmastering her.</p> + +<p>"Did you say Walter stole a bicycle?" asked Emily, a vague reminiscence +coming back to her.</p> + +<p>"It was the bad company I warned him against, especially that Fenton boy +and Mrs. Watts' little imp that has more tricks in him than a monkey. +'Keep away from them, Walter,' says I, but no, he would choose them for +companions. And 'tis old Bagley, the junkman, I blame most of all. Upon +my word, I believe he put them up to the trick. What would three little +boys travel out to the country like that for, and ride away on three +bicycles and then sell them to Bagley?"</p> + +<p>"Walter sold it, then?" said Emily, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Walter did not. 'Mine is safe and sound in the club-room,' says +he; that's Lanty Lonergan's back kitchen he lets them use for a meeting +place. 'It's in the club-room,' says Walter, 'and I wouldn't sell it, +mother, but I was afraid to give it back; only I never meant to steal +it.'"</p> + +<p>"That I believe, Mrs. Riley, for I saw him take that bicycle."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Riley's tears stopped flowing for a moment in her surprise. Then +Emily related the story of her trip to Hillsboro and the conversation of +the boys which she had overheard, not forgetting to explain her own +share in frightening them away.</p> + +<p>"So perhaps by my officiousness I converted an innocent prank into +something more serious," she concluded.</p> + +<p>"If it was the price of it only, I'd give double that, and land knows +I've no stockingful, like some that go to the city for help, for I'd +rather rub my knuckles off than beg," said the good woman.</p> + +<p>There was a piece of old carpet stuffed in one window-pane, adequate in +summer, no doubt, but hardly impregnable to the winter winds—and Emily +judged from the table before her that more than once the mother and son +had sat down to a Barmecide feast, in which the imagination had to be +called on to help appease the palate. So it was by inheritance that the +Whistler came by his aversion to Shagarach's charity.</p> + +<p>"I think it strange Walter and I have never become acquainted."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he knows all your goodness to me."</p> + +<p>"Is he still at school?"</p> + +<p>"Graduated this year, and his masters recommend him for the +best-tempered boy and as innocent—but full of the old Harry, like his +father, that would always be dancing, even with seven children between +him and his youth."</p> + +<p>"What a pity if he should turn out bad now after you've made so many +sacrifices for him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, for the sacrifices, Walter's willing to take his share. With his +paper route he would bring me in sometimes $2 a week, and there was +nothing he wouldn't do, distribute handbills, deliver baskets in the +meat-market on Saturday nights. Look, here's the shoeblack's kit he just +bought. Come in, Miss Barlow."</p> + +<p>Emily entered the small side room which completed Mrs. Riley's suite.</p> + +<p>"There's the blacking-box. Bought it himself with his own savings."</p> + +<p>"But he was too changeable. I should think he would have done better to +stick to one thing."</p> + +<p>"That's what I told him. But you know how a boy is fickle-minded. 'Get +me something good, mother,' says he. There's the little cradle I rocked +him in that I kept all these years—" Emily herself could hardly check +her tears at thought of the mother rocking this empty memento.</p> + +<p>"His Aunt Mary gave it to me—not that we couldn't afford it—plenty and +to spare I had when my husband was alive, but it wasn't lucky to buy a +cradle for your first baby, she said, and so I rocked them all in hers, +and now six of them are in heaven with their father, God ha' mercy, and +Walter, all that was left me, is in the lockup this night with the bad +people."</p> + +<p>Walter's little room was bare but not squalid. A knockabout suit hung on +pegs at one side, and a washbowl stood on a cheap commode, like a +prophecy of cleanliness in the occupant.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Mrs. Riley. Since I helped Walter into this scrape, I am +bound to help him out of it."</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless you, if you can save my Walter—and I know you would try +if you knew him. The lovingest boy, full of mischief like his father, +but he'd give the blood out of his heart to a soul in trouble. Oh, well +I knew he had something on his mind all these weeks. For he wouldn't run +up stairs two steps at a time, as he used to, and whistle so that it was +sweeter and louder than a cage full of canaries. When I heard him +whistle low I knew it was something troubling his mind. 'Yes, mother, it +is,' says he, but that was all I could get out of him."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I bring a very great lawyer to be his counsel," said Emily, +deeply moved by the lonely mother's sorrow, and haunted, too, by a dim +remembrance of the central face among the three gamins—a frank +boy-face, with red lips and cheeks. "Wouldn't he stand a better chance +of getting off?"</p> + +<p>"Just as you say, Miss Barlow," answered the sad woman, brightening a +little.</p> + +<p>"He is very busy, but I feel sure that he will attend to this if I ask +him. I'll see him to-night. Don't brood over it too much and never mind +about the washing. I will have Mr. Shagarach call at the station and +talk with Walter, and then let you know. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night and bless you," said Mrs. Riley, holding the little +candlestick high at the landing. Emily picked her way down two crazy +flights of stairs and a doorway barred with sprawling children on to the +sidewalk. "While we wink, the lightning may have flashed," was a motto +she had copied out of an old book of maxims and embroidered into her +life; so, without taking time even for a wink, she hailed a passing car +that would carry her near Shagarach's house.</p> + +<p>Not all that Mrs. Riley had said of her boy, the Whistler, should be set +down to a mother's partiality. Mischievous Walter was, if the +unquenchable avidity for excitement which reigns at fourteen entitles a +boy to such an aspersion. The five hours' rigid confinement at a school +desk especially provoked him to perpetual fidget, and no teacher had yet +been found who could make him buckle to his books so long. Yet he was a +favorite with one and all, less because of his deft hand at the drawing +lesson than because of the real salubrity of his nature, which made him +exceptional among the slum children who were his fellow-pupils.</p> + +<p>To these very schoolmates Walter figured as a hero, an Admirable +Crichton, invincible at all games and master of most things worth +knowing for boys. There was no swimmer of his age could equal him in +grace or speed, and his dive from the top of the railroad dock was +famous in local annals. So was his successful set-to in the brewery yard +with Lefty Dinan, the Tenth street cock-of-the walk.</p> + +<p>Yet for all his proficiency in the art of give, take and avoid, Walter +was the least combative of boys, being, as his mother said, "loving" in +disposition. The great gray Percherons with shaggy fetlocks, that drew +the fire-engines, knew this, and admitted him to a brotherly +comradeship, bowing with delight when he patted and stroked them. +Mechanics found him handy beyond his years, and often employed him at +odd jobs. For he had a carpenter's eye for short distances and a +surveyor's for long, and there was no tool that did not fit his fingers. +If he had run away to join the circus last summer, that was not the +unpardonable sin.</p> + +<p>Shagarach heard Emily gravely.</p> + +<p>"An important witness for our cause," he answered, when she had +finished. "We surely cannot suffer him to be thrust into prison." Emily +knew that it was unnecessary for her to press the matter further, so she +spent a brief evening in conversation with the quaint, affectionate +mother, rarely alluding to the Floyd case or the mysterious oaf who had +so alarmed her in that oriental room.</p> + +<p>The following noon she ran down to the jail to see Robert, +half-expecting to hear him playing the violin which she had sent him the +day before. Robert's own Stradivarius, with all his other personal +effects, had been destroyed at the fire, so Emily, having begged the +sheriff's permission, had pinched herself to buy him a new one as +richly toned as her slender means could purchase. Her own instrument was +the piano, whose keys turned to silver beneath her touch, and it had +been in the ensemble classes of the conservatory that she and Robert +(through Beulah Ware) first met. When Dr. Silsby, the botanist, who had +just come home from the west, called yesterday, she had insisted on his +taking the violin to Robert, without betraying the giver's name. +However, Robert's corridor (murderers' row, the name made her indignant) +was silent when she approached it, and she searched his cell vainly for +a violin box.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Silsby has been to see you, Robert?" she asked, after the greetings +due from sweetheart to sweetheart.</p> + +<p>"He came in yesterday to cheer me."</p> + +<p>"His usual method of cheering, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, said he had never expected me to outlive uncle; I always acted +so much older than he did," laughed Robert.</p> + +<p>"He is such a droll tease," said Emily, who never could be brought to +admit that Robert was overserious for his years.</p> + +<p>"But I made myself even with him before he went. He promised to read an +article I had written while in prison, and took the manuscript under his +arm, little suspecting what was in store for him. You know how he abhors +my social heresies."</p> + +<p>"And the article was——"</p> + +<p>"My 'Modest Proposal for a Consumers' Trust,' socialistic from kappa to +kappa. How Jonas will writhe! The last words he spoke were a thrust at +my 'fad.' Yet every letter-carrier and uniformed employe I meet," added +Robert, returning to his natural gravity, "contented and useful, +convinces me more and more that the world is moving toward +co-operation."</p> + +<p>"But the reading will be torture to Dr. Silsby."</p> + +<p>"It ought to do him good. How hard that lumper works!" Several negroes +were staggering down the corridor, shouldering huge sides of beef for +the jail cuisine. "And in fifty offices within a radius of a mile men +are receiving large salaries for dawdling at elegant desks two or three +hours a day."</p> + +<p>"There are no sinecures at $10 a week," sighed Emily, drawing upon +experience for this generalization. "But did Dr. Silsby have nothing +with him when he called?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he had—a violin box."</p> + +<p>"Just so," said a cheerful voice behind them; "a violin-box, and forgot +to leave it. You see I had the jacketing of that birch tree so much on +my mind," it was Dr. Silsby himself, "everything else slipped out. You +remember my speaking of the birch tree, Rob?"</p> + +<p>"At least seven times," answered Robert.</p> + +<p>"Cruelty, Miss Barlow, positive cruelty. That fine silver-birch in the +jailyard—you saw it, I suppose, coming in—all peeled and naked from +the ground as high as my reach. Wanton cruelty. Think of the winter +nights. It will die. It will die."</p> + +<p>One of Jonas Silsby's eccentricities was his keen sympathy for arboreal +life, to which his rugged nature yearned even more than to the delicate +products of the flower garden.</p> + +<p>"I complained to the sheriff. There ought to be an ordinance severely +punishing the barking of trees."</p> + +<p>"Don't they fine the boys who mutilate foliage in the parks?" asked +Emily.</p> + +<p>"Fine! Horsewhip them! Rattan their knuckles! I'd teach them a lesson or +two! The young barbarians! Well, cut it short, thinking of the trees, I +forgot your violin. So last night I ordered a jacket made, good canvas +cloth, that'll interest you, Rob, if you haven't forgotten all your +botany in your wild——"</p> + +<p>"How did you like my essay, Jonas?" asked Robert, mischievously.</p> + +<p>"Quackery! A poultice to cure incurable diseases. Bah!"</p> + +<p>"But you brought the violin to-day?" asked Emily, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Yes, with the canvas jacket. You see it's Miss Barlow's present——"</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Robert.</p> + +<p>"There! Thunder! I've let it out. She was going to blindfold you and let +you guess the giver."</p> + +<p>"And the violin is in your vest pocket, I suppose?" asked Emily, +innocently, on the brink of a peal of laughter.</p> + +<p>"The violin! Jupiter!" exclaimed Dr. Silsby, thunderstruck. "It's a box +of bulbs. I thought they were rather heavy."</p> + +<p>Emily and Robert had a merry time over the botanist's absentmindedness, +but he insisted that the original fault lay with the young barbarians +who had upset him by unbarking the birch tree.</p> + +<p>There was little news to exchange except the arrest of their "important +witness," and the lunch hour at best was only sixty minutes long, so +Emily was soon forced to make her adieus and leave Robert with his +second best friend.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>EMILY STRIKES A MATCH.</h3> + + +<p>Beulah Ware called that evening to talk over their plans for a trip to +the provinces, which Dr. Eustis, the Barlows' family physician, had +imperatively ordered for the wasting girl. Could he have looked into her +brain while she was preparing to retire in her chamber, and seen the +velocity of the thoughts which were coursing through it then, he would +surely have lengthened the weeks to months.</p> + +<p>"Would the will be upheld?" she asked herself. Dr. Silsby's oral +evidence was strong in its favor and Shagarach had spoken hopefully of +late. The least that he could expect was a postponement until the trial +was concluded. Since the evening she spent at his house, the lawyer had +applied himself, if possible, more sternly than ever to the case, and +his manner was more than ever that of a man repressing all lightness of +spirit to make room for weighty thoughts.</p> + +<p>What a mesh they were all entangled in. Shagarach as well as Robert, +with the monster reaching again and again at his life! And +McCausland—she hated his eternal smile. As if this business of life or +death were a comedy for his amusement or the display of his superfine +powers. She had begun to doubt whether their triumph over the false Bill +Dobbs had been as genuine as they first supposed.</p> + +<p>"A lie will travel a league while truth is putting on his boots," old +John Davidson had said, shaking his head, when she described the +adventure to him. And the result had proved him right. Although the +truth leaked out, the original impression that Robert had really broken +out of prison was never quite corrected, and of course it did him no +good with the public.</p> + +<p>In spite of herself, Emily could not help feeling that both these +powerful minds were overreaching themselves by their very fertility and +keenness, like the colossus of old, which tumbled by its own huge +height. For the hundredth time she set their theories before her, trying +to imagine how a jury would look at them.</p> + +<p>Her rambling drowse naturally brought back the whole trip to +Hillsborough and her conversation with Bertha. She tried to recall every +word that the housemaid had uttered, rendered doubly precious, as it +seemed to Emily, by the impossibility of consulting her again until the +trial. What she had said of the previous fire especially struck Emily +now. She tried to form a vivid picture on the curtain of darkness which +surrounded her of that fatal study. The books all upright on their +shelves, the canary bird singing, the waste-basket, the slippers under +the arm-chair, and the dressing-gown thrown over it, the dog—suddenly +Emily's heart stood still. She started up in bed and sat on its edge.</p> + +<p>A minute later she was feeling for the match-box. As she stood before +the mirror, her image came out slowly, slowly, emerging by the +sulphurous blue flame. Lighting the gas, she drew the curtains. The bark +of a watchdog broke the silence, or the footsteps of tardy home-comers, +and now and then the shrill, faint whistle of a distant steamer, +ocean-bound. But her ears were closed to outer impressions. She snatched +at a volume of the great encyclopedia which she kept in her room, and, +sitting on the bed, laid one knee across its fellow for a book-rest. In +this posture she read eagerly, then exchanged the volume for another, +and that for another, until she had ranged through the entire set and +peeped at every letter from Archimedes to Zero, with long and very +attentive stops at many curious headings. It was after 1 o'clock when +she turned out the light and nearly 3 when her brain stopped buzzing. +Next morning she limped in her left knee where the heavy encyclopedia +had rested and her eyes were dull at their work.</p> + +<p>The idea was so bold, so novel, that she waited a day before submitting +it to Shagarach. Beulah Ware was her first confidant. Beulah took it up +enthusiastically, and was for developing it farther before giving it out +at all. But Emily judged this secrecy unjust to her lawyer, and, +besides, was eager to know his opinion. He listened with interest to her +"maybes" and "might bes" and commented in his usual tone of conviction.</p> + +<p>"There are a great many 'ifs.' You depend entirely upon Bertha, and she +is not at hand. When she does appear it will be so late that you will +have little time to work up your idea. This is not said to discourage +you; only to point out the obstacles you must surmount. By all means +follow out the thought."</p> + +<p>This was not the worst that Emily had feared, although she understood +that it meant "There are at present only two theories, McCausland's and +mine. Those are the horns of the dilemma between which the jury must +choose." Seeing that she did not reply, Shagarach turned the subject +toward Walter Riley's case, which was more serious than his mother +knew.</p> + +<p>The robbery of the bicycles was only one of a series of thefts which had +been traced to this youthful "gang." In the club-room at Lonergan's, not +only the Whistler's bicycle, which he had refused to sell, but a store +of cigars, whisky, cheap jewelry and ladies' pocketbooks had been found, +and the junkman, Bagley, was under arrest for acting as a "fence" to the +thieves.</p> + +<p>Walter asserted his innocence of other thefts, and also his ignorance of +all the articles excepting the bicycle, which they had urged him to +sell. His refusal to do so was corroborated by Turkey and Toot. On this +very head he had had a falling out with the crowd and had ceased to +visit the club-room, but, although it was frequented by as many as +twenty youngsters, some of them half-grown men, no one had dared to heed +Bagley's suggestion and dispose of Walter's abandoned property.</p> + +<p>"Riley's act at its worst was no more serious than breaking a window or +plucking pears from the tree. With your help he may get clear and be put +on probation."</p> + +<p>"Oh, must I testify?" asked Emily.</p> + +<p>"Next Monday the case will be heard. You can be of service to the boy. I +shall recommend short terms for Fenton and Watts."</p> + +<p>Emily promised to be present. While she was returning to her studio old +John Davidson overtook her in his carriage. She was glad to meet his +kindly glance again and accept his proffered seat, especially as she +espied the manikin, Kennedy, crossing the street in her direction. It +was only a few blocks to her destination, but before they arrived she +had poured out her new theory to the marshal, as if he were her father.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it's possible, Mr. Davidson?" she appealed to him, +craving a morsel of sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Possible? Of course it's possible," he answered cheerily; "I've met +things a hundred times stranger myself."</p> + +<p>But Emily's heart sunk a little, for she saw that he only spoke so out +of kindness and that he did not really believe in her idea. And from +that day she followed Beulah Ware's advice and hardly mentioned it, +except to Beulah.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>McCAUSLAND'S AMMUNITION.</h3> + + +<p>It is no wonder at all that Emily Barlow should have come to regard +Inspector McCausland as the villain of the drama in which she was taking +a part. Although whenever she tried to formulate his theory of the case +it seemed to her too frail to hang a kitten by, yet she had moments of +doubt in which his great reputation and clean record of victories +oppressed and appalled her. And these moments were rendered frequent by +a quality which McCausland seemed to possess in common with other +satanic characters, his ubiquity, in which he was only surpassed by Mr. +Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. In justice to McCausland, however, it should be +stated that he did not make a practice, as the manikin did, of writing +bi-weekly billet-doux.</p> + +<p>The first time the detective's shadow fell across Emily's path—after +her discovery of his identity—was on one of her visits to Senda Wesner. +Who should be coming out of the bakeshop but chubby Richard in person? +His bow was gallant and his smile serene.</p> + +<p>"My weekly call," he said, stopping to chat for a moment. "A sociable +little magpie, that one," jerking his thumb toward the bakeshop girl. +Emily thought this uncomplimentary. From Miss Wesner she gathered enough +to lead her to suspect that he was trying to connect the peddler in the +green cart, who was certainly no peddler and who had eluded all pursuit +thus far, with the slamming of the rear door, which must have been done +by some one else than Floyd.</p> + +<p>A few days later she had called at the office of the Beacon, the +newspaper for which Robert wrote special articles, to obtain some papers +from his desk. The desk was indeed there, but all its drawers had been +removed and the managing editor explained that they might be found at +the office of Inspector McCausland.</p> + +<p>Twice she had met the inspector climbing Shagarach's stairs, but passing +by the lawyer's door and mounting to the top story. The second time she +had heard his voice in conference with a throaty falsetto she thought +she knew, and the black mask of Pineapple Jupiter, appearing at the head +of the stairs, confirmed her suspicions. Without scruple she entered the +mission herself one day and expended all her arts to pump the old negro. +The moment McCausland's name was introduced, however, his loquacity was +checked of a sudden, then took dizzy flights of irrelevance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dese chillun, chillun," cried Jupiter, puttering away at a broken +pane, "dey done gone break my winders."</p> + +<p>"The stout, ruddy gentleman, I mean," persisted Emily, but Jupiter was +so absorbed in his hymn tune that he did not hear her.</p> + +<p>Sharper heads than Emily's had failed to force McCausland's hand when he +chose to shut it tight. The newspaper reporters, whom no ordinary walls +can bar, had bestirred themselves to secure for an inquisitive public +the "new evidence" that the government had presented before the grand +jury in the Floyd case, but absolutely without avail. Where such +experienced allies owned themselves beaten, the gentle maiden might +surely do so without dishonor.</p> + +<p>As Shagarach foretold, Bertha had been spirited away. Mrs. Christenson, +the intelligence offices, the Swedish consul, the Lutheran pastor, were +all visited and revisited by Emily, especially since the new inspiration +seized her, but none of them knew the address of the housemaid since she +left Hillsborough that morning on an outward-bound train. The only rumor +of her whereabouts was that vague report, coming from the bakeshop girl, +which Dr. Silsby had set out to investigate.</p> + +<p>With regard to the Arnolds' coachman, who had driven their carriage on +the day of the fire, Emily considered Shagarach to be curiously +indifferent. He had promised to subpoena the man for the trial, but that +was all. Yet his testimony was crucial, since he must know whether Harry +was with his mother in the vehicle.</p> + +<p>This was a peculiarity of Shagarach's, in which he differed again from +McCausland. Though he prepared his defense with consummate painstaking, +when it came his turn to prosecute an unwilling witness, he seemed +satisfied to know the truth in his own mind, relying upon his genius to +extort a confession during the cross-examination. With a perjurer before +him he wielded the lash like a slave-driver, and perhaps he was +justified in this case in omitting a rehearsal which would only put the +Arnolds on their guard.</p> + +<p>But Emily's greatest disappointment came in what seemed to her the one +weak point of Robert's defense, the axis around which the entire +prosecution revolved. Time and again she had conferred with Shagarach on +the subject of her lover's reverie after the deed. To think that he +could not remember a face he had seen, an incident, a word spoken, +during those four hours—nothing but a vague itinerary of the afternoon, +which came out with difficulty each time, and the course of his own +meditations, which, to tell the truth, was clear and copious enough, but +worthless for the purpose.</p> + +<p>At her last visit to the lawyer's home he had entered into this more +deeply. Apparently the method of attacking the enigma, which he had +hinted at possessing from the very first, was now ripened. For he loaned +Emily a ponderous volume on "Diseases of the Memory," and asked her to +bring in all the evidence possible showing the mutual affection of +nephew and uncle, not failing to wear the water lily from time to time, +as he had suggested before. But she was not satisfied with this, and, +knowing Robert had visited the park, spent one whole Sunday making a +tour of that district, questioning each of the gray-coated policemen.</p> + +<p>At last she had found an officer who recollected "something of such a +young man as she described." He "couldn't swear to it," but "had an +idea he noticed him." In fact, his recollection grew vaguer and vaguer +the more they tried to make it specific, and to Emily's chagrin, when +they brought him to the jail, he asserted positively that Robert was not +the man. This disappointment was sharpened tenfold by her meeting +Inspector McCausland, passing out of the corridor, arm in arm with a car +conductor.</p> + +<p>"I am certain that was my passenger," the conductor was saying. To have +her own failure and McCausland's success thus brought into contact +accentuated both and gave Emily a miserable day.</p> + +<p>The case of the old chemist was not so bad, and besides, was none of +Emily's doing. John Davidson, the marshal, had taken up Shagarach's +theory of Harry Arnold's guilt with remarkable zeal and had borrowed one +of the photographs, so as to see if he could be of use. One day he came +in, greatly excited, and asked for the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"Got some evidence that'll surprise you, brother," said the marshal.</p> + +<p>"Then it must be extraordinary," answered Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"What do you think that young rascal did?"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Arnold. Went to a chemist, a friend of mine, fellow-townsman, too, +Phineas Fowler, and bought a big heap of combustible powder, a day or +two before the fire. Sprinkled it over the whole room, probably."</p> + +<p>"He wasn't so foolish as to leave his name, however?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phineas knew the photograph. Spotted him right away when I fetched +her out. Lucky I took it now, wan't it? 'That's the man,' says Phineas."</p> + +<p>"I believe I have your friend's address already," said Shagarach, and in +two or three days he was paying a long-delayed visit to Phineas Fowler.</p> + +<p>Amid the compound odor of chemicals sat a shriveled pantaloon, with a +long, thin beard whose two forks he kept pulling and stroking. Shagarach +was about to state his business, when a stranger at the window came +forward and interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"The young man who bought the combustion powder was identified in jail +yesterday," said Inspector McCausland, smiling. "It was only Floyd, on +that matter of the bomb."</p> + +<p>That matter of the bomb! Perhaps it would be harder to explain than +Emily thought.</p> + +<p>But McCausland was not always out beating the bush for evidence. +Occasionally the mountain went to Mahomet. The reward of $5,000, which +Harry Arnold had advertised, drew a dribbling stream of callers to the +inspector's office. There was the veiled lady, who had seen the crime +with the eyes of her soul, and would accept a small fee for a +clairvoyant seance, and the lady with green glasses, whose card +announced her as "Phoebe Isinglass, metaphysician." The moderation of +her terms could only be accounted for by her scientific interest in the +matter. She asked only $1,000 if she proved Floyd insane, $500 if she +proved him sane, and $100 (merely as a compensation for her time) if the +case baffled her skill.</p> + +<p>Prof. I. Noah Little, the conchologist, paid McCausland the honor of a +call and even brought his whelk-shell with him. With this occult +instrument at his ear he had been known to make the most remarkable +prophecies, declaring to gullible girls the names of their future +spouses, and even portending the great snowfall of May 21 in the year +1880.</p> + +<p>As for suggestions by mail, the office porter's spine grew bent with +emptying the waste-basket which received them. Hypnotism was the +favorite explanation with a large majority of the correspondents, +followed by a somnambulism and various ingenious theories of accident. +The pope and the czar were named as authors, and the freemasons were +accused in one epistle of a plot to burn up the ocean with some +diabolical explosive, to procure which they had all sold their souls to +the devil, though what this had to do with the Floyd case was a greater +mystery than the fire itself.</p> + +<p>Out of all this chaff the inspector sifted a solitary grain. One morning +he was joking in the office with Hardy, Johnson and Smith, three of his +brothers-in-buttons. Hardy handled sneak-thieves and shoplifters, +Johnson swindlers of a higher order, such as confidence men, and Smith +the gangs of forgers and counterfeiters. They were all, like McCausland, +common-looking men. This enabled them to slouch through life quietly, +taking observations by the way.</p> + +<p>"Well, Dick," said Johnson, "I hear you've been appointed +confessor-general to Col. Mainwaring's sinners."</p> + +<p>This was received with a hearty laugh, for they were a jolly four, these +men of iron.</p> + +<p>"That arson case is a puzzler," put in Smith. "Why didn't you send a +bottle of the smoke to Sherlock Holmes?"</p> + +<p>"With a blank label," added Johnson, "for the incendiary's name."</p> + +<p>"Would he notice such an A B C riddle?" laughed Hardy.</p> + +<p>"A lady for Mr. McCausland," announced the mulatto policeman, and the +brothers-in-buttons quickly found other business.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>HONEY, NOT WITHOUT STING</h3> + + +<p>She looked so timid and demure, with the blue straw bonnet which framed +her sweet face, the red band lettered in gold, "Salvation Army."</p> + +<p>Eyes, lifted slowly, of deep, dark blue, and the level brows laid over +them for a foil. Beautiful eyes, we male observers say in our rough, +generic fashion, but the finer perception of our sisters discriminates +more closely. Not the iris alone makes the beauty of eyes. Lashes long +and thick, lids of bewitching droop, brows penciled in the bow curve, +any of these may be the true feature that starts our exclamation of +delight. But in Miss Serena Lamb (as the girl gave her name) nearly all +these marks were blended, and they overhung a feature which used to be +fashionable and is still, when perfect, divine—the rosebud mouth.</p> + +<p>She might well be timid in those surroundings—revolvers and handcuffs +to right of her, medals and canes to left; shutter-cutters, winches, +chisels, diamond drills, skeleton keys, wax molds, jimmies, screws, in +the glass case in front—an elaborate outfit of burglar's tools, the +trophies of McCausland's hunting expeditions, for the inspector's +specialty was burglary. On one side the portrait of the true Bill Dobbs +looked out from the center of a congenial group, and a tiny plush case +kept the file made from a watch-spring with which the famous Barney +Pease had cut his way to liberty. All this was formidable enough in +itself, to say nothing of the huge bloodhound that lay half-asleep, with +his jowl on the hearthstone.</p> + +<p>"I thought I ought to tell you," said Miss Lamb, modestly, "although it +may not be of importance."</p> + +<p>"And yet it may," said the inspector, politely. "We often work from the +merest trifles."</p> + +<p>"It concerns the fire in Prof. Arnold's house."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"You know our labors often bring sinners back to the fold and many of +them insist on unburdening their past misdeeds to us. It is very +distressing to hear, but it seems to ease their consciences."</p> + +<p>McCausland mentally registered a great broad mark in her favor. She had +not begun by asking for the reward.</p> + +<p>"One day a young convert of ours came to my house and spent an hour with +me. We sung hymns and conversed, and I truly believe he has heard the +word. Hosanna! Alleluia!"</p> + +<p>McCausland fidgeted a little at these transports, but the sweet face in +the blue bonnet kept him respectful.</p> + +<p>"I am young," she hardly looked 18, "but I strove earnestly with him +that night. Moved by the spirit, he told me a guilty story, which I put +aside until reading about your case stirred my memory, and I felt in +duty bound to relate it. Alleluia!"</p> + +<p>"Proceed, Miss Lamb."</p> + +<p>"The young convert had been in his early days a locksmith and a great +sinner before the world. One day a stranger proposed to him a reward if +he should enter a certain room and open a safe which it contained. The +temptation was great and he yielded, for he was poor in the riches of +earth, and knew not then of the treasures of heaven. Alleluia! Praise!</p> + +<p>"Weakly he consented to accompany the stranger, and on a certain Sunday, +during the early hours of evening, suffered himself to be led into the +room, where he found himself alone with the stranger. It was the name of +this man and the description he gave me of the room which led me +afterward to think that his action might have a connection with your +case."</p> + +<p>"What name?"</p> + +<p>"Robert Floyd."</p> + +<p>McCausland took a cigar from his pocket and bit off the end.</p> + +<p>"And how did he describe the room?"</p> + +<p>"A library, he said, with a bird cage before one window and a desk in +the corner."</p> + +<p>"And the safe?"</p> + +<p>"He could not open it at first, but tried again and again. Something +alarmed them, however, or so I gathered. For you must know his accent +was very hard to follow and—and"—(Serena blushed)—"he was very much +agitated while he told me. But I gathered that they were interrupted and +put off their wicked work."</p> + +<p>"I must see this young convert. He may have sinned to good purpose that +time."</p> + +<p>"There comes the strange part of it. Since he made the confession I have +not seen him again. He has not come to our meetings, as he used. Perhaps +he has fallen back into the evil ways of the worldly minded. Perhaps the +wicked ones have punished him."</p> + +<p>"The description is certainly similar," said McCausland, shutting his +right eye, so as to fix more keenly on his visitor's face the other, +which was the one reputed microscopic in its powers.</p> + +<p>"So it seemed to me, reading the papers, which are full of profane +sayings, alas! But where sin is there must be the workers in the +vineyard."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you read them and you did well to come. But—do you know the +convert's name? Without some clew, I fear——"</p> + +<p>The young girl hesitated awhile, then answered:</p> + +<p>"Aronson!"</p> + +<p>McCausland started. It was not a common name.</p> + +<p>"A young man, you say? And spoke with an accent?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, slightly."</p> + +<p>"Can it be Shagarach's man?" said McCausland to himself, reaching for +the city directory. "There was something shady about his record." Then +he rung a bell.</p> + +<p>"Have the criminal docket looked up about four years ago for a case +against one Aronson—larceny of an overcoat, I believe," he said to the +mulatto officer.</p> + +<p>"That was all," said Miss Lamb, arising to go.</p> + +<p>"One moment," said McCausland, running his forefinger up the directory +page. "Was his first name Saul?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember. I remember very little about him."</p> + +<p>"'Saul Aronson, law student.' Let's look farther back," said McCausland, +restoring the 1895 volume to the shelf; "'94, '93, '92, '91," he drew +out the last. "It would be queer," he said to himself, "if Floyd's +junior counsel should turn out to be an accomplice."</p> + +<p>"Aronson," he read aloud. "Isaac, Jacob, Marks—Saul! 'Saul Aronson, +locksmith'!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>A BACK-STITCH.</h3> + + +<p>This was how Aronson made the acquaintance of Serena Lamb. One day there +resounded through the Ghetto (where Aronson lived) the pounding of a +violent drum. Tum, tum, tum! Tum, tum, tum! Tumtyty, Tumtyty! Tum, tum, +tum! And every now and then its bass companion marked the ictuses with a +cavernous "Boom!" Then Moses and Samuel ceased their buying and selling +for a few moments and the coats, vests and trousers which draped their +window-fronts swung idly in the wind. And the little Samuels swarmed +from their hiding-places till both curbstones were fringed two deep with +humanity, eying the musical invaders. For the notes of the bugle burst +out after this percussion prelude and a mixed choir of voices lifted a +strange refrain.</p> + +<p>Motley singers they were! Shabbily dressed men, with exaltation in their +faces, and women of all ages and types, uniform only in their costumes. +Raising the song, they clapped their hands together, like bacchants or +chorybantes dashing cymbal on cymbal in the ecstasy of the dance. But +such bacchants! Bacchants in blue bonnets, like grandmother's sundown! +Bacchants with pure faces of undefiled girlhood! Bacchants with +crone-faces all wrinkled and yellow! And away at the rear, chanting with +might and main, though bent nearly double under the bass-drum which +rested on his back, proudly marched Pineapple Jupiter.</p> + +<p>Frowns gathered on the foreheads of Moses and Samuel when the import of +this procession became clear, and many a portly Rachel clucked warningly +to her brood. But youth is frivolous and inquisitive even in Israel; so +the square was jammed with onlookers when the army set up its standard +in the very heart of the Ghetto. True, not all these were children of +the tribe. The slurred consonants of the Italian, vainly trying to +smooth and liquefy our rugged tongue, were heard; the muffled nasals of +the Portuguese; the virile drawl of the Celt; and a youthful accent +which seemed to be a resultant of all this polyglot mixture. And to +these others also the army was an abomination even as to Samuel and +Moses.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when the music ceased and the army formed in a wide ring with +hands joined sisterly and brotherly, a great pandemonium took up and +prolonged the last note of the dying bugle. The cock crew, the cat +called and the bulldog barked at these devoted soldiers. But they only +blessed their enemies and danced round and round as if rejoicing at +persecution. Whereat the multitude fringing their circle danced with +them, too, and staid Saul Aronson, who was passing, found himself +whirled perforce in a maelstrom of larking boys, full-grown hoodlums and +petticoated hobbledehoys.</p> + +<p>When the first sister stepped forth to give her "testimony" the face +beneath her bonnet compelled silence. Her voice was gentle, her figure +petite. Her eyebrows lay across her forehead straight and dark, and she +spoke from a rosebud mouth. No wonder the nearest onlookers leaned +forward and the idlers on the outskirts inclined their heads to one side +and hollowed their hands at their ears so as to catch the utterance +which promised so fairly to their eyes.</p> + +<p>To Saul Aronson it was a vision of paradise. The lashes of her modestly +drooped eyes lay in dark half-moons on her cheek, but once when she +lifted them a blue light seemed to flash down into his very heart; and +that organ, amorphous before, grew suddenly crystal—a great blood-red +ruby which he longed to lay at her feet. This was what she said, this +lily of the morass:</p> + +<p>"I give thanks to the Lord,"—her utterance was slow, her shrill voice +pierced the stillness, "that He has led me away from my sins."</p> + +<p>"Alleluia!" murmured the chorus.</p> + +<p>"That He has poured into my heart the grace of His love and made +manifest the wonder of His works. Are ye weary, sinners, weary of the +way ye tread? Oh, come to the true way, where ye shall find life and +light and joy and peace, as I have found it."</p> + +<p>"Bress de name ob de Lord!" said Pineapple Jupiter, loudly. Whereat +several tittered and a discreet sister whispered "Hush!"</p> + +<p>"It is not to-day for which we live or the things of to-day—not for +bread, or for gold, or for fame, which are perishable things. Not for +to-day nor for to-morrow should we strive, but for eternity! Not for the +approval of men, but of Him who is the just Judge everlasting. Holy! +Holy! Holy!"</p> + +<p>"Alleluia!" murmured the chorus.</p> + +<p>"It is written in the word, which cannot lie, that the keys of the +kingdom are given to Peter. Therefore, when ye go forth to the labor of +your days, ask yourselves not what will men say, but what will Peter say +when I knock at the golden door for admittance. Will he welcome me as a +true child or will he spurn me to the outer darkness? Ask yourselves +this, oh, sinners, each and all. What will Peter say, Joseph? What will +Peter say, John? What will Peter say, Christian soul?"</p> + +<p>This conclusion seemed to be the refrain of a hymn which the circle took +up:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What will Peter say, Christian soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the last great trumpet sounds?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The trombone here drew forth a sepulchral note, representing, no doubt, +the trump of doom, and Saul Aronson could almost feel its vibrations in +the earth beneath him. He could have pummeled the irreverent knot of +gamins who mimicked it grotesquely. Such courage, such loveliness, such +sincerity, imposed reverence even for opposite opinions. Never before +had he seen their performance in such a light as now. For performance it +was. One after another of the brethren stepped into the circle and +recited "testimony" to the jeering crowd around. Each testimony was +followed by a hymn, in regular alternation. Not even the curiosity about +the different sisters and brothers could prevent this evangel from +becoming monotonous. So the captain varied it with more and more +ecstatic exhibitions.</p> + +<p>"Volunteers to clap hands!" he would call and four or five brothers +jumped into the middle, clapping hands to the verses of a simple hymn, +repeated ten or fifteen times. Brisker and brisker the tempo became, +till the captain and his volunteers found themselves galloping around +the ring, with sweet bonneted faces eagerly chanting their +accompaniment. Aronson marveled but he did not sneer. For his gaze was +on the rosebud mouth, whose "Alleluias" (adapted from his own liturgy, +he knew) seemed to him the sweetest music mortal throat ever gave forth, +the distilled honey of sound.</p> + +<p>After more than an hour of such missionary effort, the captain called +for a show of converts. "Hands up, all that have the love of the Lord in +their hearts!"</p> + +<p>Two seafaring men and a darky had the courage to show their palms, and +they were standing very near the circle.</p> + +<p>"How many souls love Jesus who died on the cross?"</p> + +<p>Aronson, still at his post, felt a traitorous gladness when a dozen more +of the crowd gave the signal of assent. This meager harvest of souls was +the result of their labors. Then Pineapple Jupiter again bent his back +under the heavy bass-drum, and the army reformed. Tumtyty, tum! Tumtyty, +tum! Tumtyty, tumtyty, boom! The ringing bugle revived the languishing +interest of the mob. One Jew of the Jews followed the music for nearly a +mile. When he finally fell to the rear the rosebud mouth was still +singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What will Peter say, Christian soul?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and he felt as if a great light had come to him and then vanished again, +leaving a deeper darkness than ever.</p> + +<p>Next morning he awoke with a rapid pulse. "What will Peter say, +Aronson?" he asked as he drew on his garments, and when he sat down to +copy a brief for Shagarach, "What will Peter say, Aronson?" the question +again recurred. Strangely enough, it always took the clear, shrill +accent of the girl. "What will Peter say, Aronson?" was the prayer for +success he offered, when a week later, he mustered up courage to cross +the mission threshold and ask Jupiter her name.</p> + +<p>From that day Saul Aronson was an altered youth. The least beat of a +drum in the Ghetto found him ready to quit dinner or company or work and +fly out of the house with a hasty snatch at his hat in the entry.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he returned with a rueful look and then his mother knew it was +only the Garibaldi guard parading. But at other times it was a subject +of remark how long he stayed and how moody he returned.</p> + +<p>There was a family living in the rear of the Aronsons, with a divine +little 8-year-old girl. Saul knew she was divine, although he had never +seen anything but the back of her head. For at noontime when he came to +dinner, or in the evening when he returned from work, she would be +sitting in the swing her father had built for her, with her back toward +him—swinging, singing, in blissful ignorance of the eyes that doted on +her through the slats of Saul Aronson's blinds. She had one song of "the +Savior" which she delighted to croon. Her voice was like that of a +fledgling lark and her carols were made sweet with little improvised +turns which often threatened to fail but always came out true—so sure +was the child-singer's instinct, feeling the way before her. Nothing +reminded him of Serena so much as this earthly angel, and he loved her +for the image she called up.</p> + +<p>Serena always looked at him. That is to say, her blue eyes pierced him +through, accused him, reproved him, every time they were lifted toward +the onlookers. But it was not until the day he raised his hand among the +converts that she noted down his face for remembrance. He knew its +features were not fascinating, especially the red mustache that bristled +out horizontally from his lips, with the ends trimmed off as clean as a +scrubbing-brush. But no one else, he felt sure, could worship her with +such reverent adoration; and now she had deigned to notice him. What if +Simon Rabofsky scowled at his raising his hand? Not "What will Simon +Rabofsky say?" but "What will Peter say, Aronson?" was the question of +questions. But I fear Peter was confused somewhat oddly in Saul's mind +with the possessor of a certain rosebud mouth.</p> + +<p>One night Aronson dreamed of Serena Lamb as his bride and the next +morning announced his conversion to Pineapple Jupiter, at the same time +asking for an introduction to blue eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>A RECANTATION.</h3> + + +<p>Saul Aronson was not the only person who found pleasure in the company +of Miss Lamb. There were others, with eyes not glamoured by any golden +mist of love, who would have found it hard to select an adjective strong +enough to express their approbation of the petite devotee. About a year +before she had come down from the country to be a companion to her aunt, +Mrs. Wolfe, who had just lost her husband.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wolfe (according to neighbors' gossip) had been no more than a +moderately loving wife, but she made a devoted widow. She had the waist +of a wasp and a temper to match it. Her frame was angular, and her +disposition, too, revealed shoulder blades and elbows. If she loved +anything in this world it was her marbled cat, which was hated by every +boarder in the house, and a pariah among its tribe. From constant +visiting of her husband's grave her manners had assumed a cast which +would have been appropriate to a cemetery, but was most depressing in +everyday converse. Even her smile had something acrid about it, like a +shopworn lemon, and the acidity of her scowl would have reddened blue +litmus paper.</p> + +<p>People wondered why her niece, such a tender little body, should be +doomed to the martyrdom of waiting upon "Old Tabby Wolfe and her +boarders." Mrs. Gubbins, who was the landlady's most intimate +crony—probably because among her other virtues she had a keen sense of +the doleful—spread the report that Serena would inherit her aunt's +property, and that her own mother, Mrs. Wolfe's sister, had had an eye +to this when she parted with the eldest of her household. However that +might be, the girl put up patiently with all the widow's quirks and +oddities; entered into religious work enthusiastically, and in six +months had rubbed off the slight rusticity with which eighteen years of +choring on a farm, before she came down to the city, had touched her +accent and manner.</p> + +<p>There were hardly any traces of kinship between aunt and niece. To be +sure, Serena had the slenderest slip of a waist that nature ever +fashioned, and just the least suggestion of cheek bones, too, which were +not at all disagreeable, however. When occasion demanded, she could give +a sharp order, much as she may have rebuked Spot and Bossy for switching +when she milked them in the cowshed at home. But to the boarders these +bursts of impatience only gave their sweet waitress a piquancy like the +tartness of the full-ripe strawberry.</p> + +<p>With them she was a general favorite. They used to declare that she put +yeast in their beds, for they were like pans of dough, feathery and +white, when she made them of a morning; and Serena, spinning the +pie-plates round, scalloping the edges of the crust with a four-tined +fork, or knitting in the sitting-room from a ball of pink yarn that +danced on the carpet as she unraveled it, was a spectacle of domesticity +at which they never tired of gazing. Yet her dignity, which was far +beyond her years, prevented their making her a plaything. Though +cordial, she was very reserved. Young ladies called her set; young men, +seraphic but cold.</p> + +<p>You may imagine how Aronson's heart hopped in his bosom when Jupiter +presented him to this goddess.</p> + +<p>"I have seen you at our meetings, Mr. Aronson," she graciously observed. +She had noticed him, then. He knew it before, but the assurance from her +lips gave him measureless joy. But this joy swelled to rapture +inexpressible, such as only the saints in the ninth heaven and happy +lovers on earth are privileged to know, when she invited him to call +upon her and pressed his hand a second time on bidding him adieu. The +thrill of her fingertips did not die out all that day; but it was a week +again (for Aronson was a bashful youth) before he presumed to accept her +invitation.</p> + +<p>His mother marveled why Saul furbished himself up so carefully that +evening. He had risen from the supper table prematurely and spent +exactly fifty-five minutes smoothing his hair, tidying his cravat and +drawing on his new pair of gloves. When he went out, instead of +soliciting admiration for this array, he seemed to avoid it.</p> + +<p>As he drew toward the mansion whose door-plate still bore the name of +the departed Ephraim Wolfe, an unwelcome surprise met Aronson. There in +the doorway, silhouetted against the hall lamp, was the form which he +knew to be Serena's. She was admitting a visitor—a youth. The door +quickly closed and a rosy light came through the tinted curtains behind. +But Aronson's spirits had sunk, his resolution departed. Instead of +crossing the street, as he had planned to, and ringing the bell, with a +little speech of greeting all prepared, he walked on to the next corner +and irresolutely turned back.</p> + +<p>This time a shadow fell on the white curtain of the front room. It was +Serena rocking herself placidly in the rocking-chair. Every forward +inclination brought her sweet profile into view, every backward one +removed it. Her lips moved. She was conversing, doubtless, with the +youth whose stolid shadow occupied the center of the opposite curtain. +Eight times Saul Aronson passed and repassed that house-front before he +could tear himself away and return home to divest himself downheartedly +of all his finery.</p> + +<p>Two days later, however, he saw Serena again; and she renewed the +invitation. This time, when he approached, there was no hostile youth at +the door. Serena herself admitted him to the portals of the paradise +which she inhabited in common with Mrs. Wolfe and the seven boarders, +and 10 o'clock had long ceased striking when, incoherent with ecstasy, +Saul Aronson uttered his last lingering doorstep adieu and promised to +return.</p> + +<p>He never returned. As she informed Inspector McCausland, Serena had +never looked on that lovelorn visage again.</p> + +<p>This was how he came to break his promise: One Sunday afternoon a +messenger came to the Aronson door with a request from Simon Rabofsky +that Saul should favor him with a visit. The young man had misgivings, +but he dared not disobey.</p> + +<p>Up a squalid flight, into a dingy back room, Aronson took his way +reluctantly. The clamor of voices died when he crossed the threshold and +six pairs of inimical eyes, he thought, were lifted to his face. At a +table in the midst sat Rabofsky, his yellowish earlocks dangling beneath +his skull-cap and a great book spread open before him.</p> + +<p>"Peace be with you, Saul Aronson," he said in the jargon.</p> + +<p>"The angel Dumah spare you, Simon Rabofsky," answered Aronson.</p> + +<p>"I rejoice to see that you have not forgotten the holy salutations."</p> + +<p>The twelve eyes sharpened their glances at Aronson and he knew the +ordeal was come. They were six of the strictest in the congregation, +from old Silberstein, who sat on the left of the ark and led the +recitation of the eighteen psalms of a morning, to young Cohen, the +Jewish butcher, a zealot of zealots, than whom none more devoutly beat +his bosom in prayer or observed the allotted holy days.</p> + +<p>"Brother Silberstein was just proposing that your place in the +synagogue be disposed of. It is a pity to see a seat vacant, when so +many must stand. But I bade him not be hasty, for perhaps you had been +ill of late."</p> + +<p>"Why play the innocent, Simon Rabofsky," broke in Cohen, "when you know +as well as we that he has been consorting with the gentiles?"</p> + +<p>"It is because I am loath to believe it," answered Rabofsky, in a +sorrowful tone, as if rebuking Cohen. "I am loath to believe one of +Isaac Aronson's household would turn away to bow before the idols of +Babylon."</p> + +<p>"Is it forbidden to search for wisdom?" said Aronson.</p> + +<p>"You do not search for it in the book where it is found," said Rabofsky, +laying his finger on the book before him. It was printed in Semitic +characters, but the language was the jargon, for Rabofsky was no master +of Hebrew and Aramaic, "the divine talmud, which our fathers have +preserved through their hundred persecutions."</p> + +<p>"But its wisdom is obscure," answered Aronson.</p> + +<p>"Are there not doctors to explain those parts which are dark?" rejoined +Rabofsky. "And behold, in this edition, which a Hebrew so enlightened as +Saul Aronson should possess, are not all the lengthy passages shortened +and the unnecessary omitted by the labors of that light of Israel, born +at Cordova, Moses ben Maimon, whom the gentiles miscall Maimonides?"</p> + +<p>"Why plead with the apostate?" cried Silberstein, angrily. "He is no +longer a Jew. He toileth on the Sabbath. He goeth not down to the +waterside to lament."</p> + +<p>"It is false," said Aronson, hotly.</p> + +<p>"I said so," nodded Rabofsky.</p> + +<p>"Who are you to reprove me, Simon Rabofsky," continued Aronson, "because +I cannot lie idle two days in the week? Do you rest from your +money-getting on the Sabbath? I think your wife, Rebecca, could answer +me that. Did I not see her selling jewels to a Christian on the seventh +day of this very week?"</p> + +<p>"It is written," answered Rabofsky, his steel-blue eyes contracting, +"that the high priests in the hour of necessity made food of the bread +of the tabernacle. So saith the holy book," he laid his finger again on +the page, "which Jehovah hath covered with the wings of His protection +so that torches could not destroy it. Behold it has arisen from a +thousand burnings uncharred!"</p> + +<p>All the Hebrews plucked their garments and with bowed heads muttered a +prayer, in which Aronson found himself joining.</p> + +<p>"Too many of our youth are beguiled by the flatteries of the gentiles," +continued Rabofsky, not unwilling to divert the conversation.</p> + +<p>"But such are only the lax ones, who worship no God," said Cohen. "Few +grovel before idols, like this one."</p> + +<p>"And hath Saul Aronson done this?" asked Rabofsky, as if in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Did you not see him yourself at the gentile ceremony raising his +hands?"</p> + +<p>"You wrong the Christians," protested Aronson. "They are not all cruel +and there is much sweetness of love in their doctrine."</p> + +<p>"Not cruel!" rejoined Cohen. "How have they not poured out our blood in +the ages!"</p> + +<p>"Jehovah hath stored it up," added a gentler voice, piteously. It was +Abraham Barentzen, the patriarch of the colony, who had not spoken +before, but kept looking at the backslider kindly, as if more in sorrow +than bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Sweetness of love!" cried Silberstein. "Love indeed and enough. How +they love each other! Sect embracing sect! Pah!"</p> + +<p>"They hate us; they mock us, and our children court them," droned +another in a minor key.</p> + +<p>"They call us cheats and usurers," cried Cohen, "because we make wealth +out of the waste they cast away."</p> + +<p>"Psh!" said old Barentzen, raising his hands. "Be just. Those are only +the few."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is some gentle girl that is tempting Saul Aronson, even as +the Philistine women of old weakened the faith of Samson," said +Rabofsky, keenly.</p> + +<p>"Are there not black-eyed daughters of Israel," cried old Barentzen, +mild-voiced and reproving, "who will make him a home? If he wants a wife +comely, buxom, well-dowered, modest, a good housekeeper and free from +tittle-tattle, are there not such by scores in the neighborhood?"</p> + +<p>"I fear it is Meyer Shagarach's doing," murmured Silberstein.</p> + +<p>"Not so," spoke Cohen, sharply. Though young, he seemed a leader. +"Shagarach is lost to the fold of Israel, but does he chant with cracked +voice out of a tattered hymn-book? Pretty soon we shall see Saul Aronson +shivering in the waters of baptism, and then he will change his name to +Paul, like that other traitor, the fire-brand of Tarsus?"</p> + +<p>"Traitor yourself!" cried Aronson, stung by Cohen's irony.</p> + +<p>The word has terrible force in Israel. The whole past of the race is +vivid in the minds of the wanderers, and recollection of its sorrows +makes a bond so strong that no temptation can break it. Aronson paused +to think. The dim traditions, all tears and fire and blood—the exodus +from Egypt, the Babylonian captivity, the burning of Jerusalem, the +dispersion, the persecutions without number—could he forget all those, +snapping ties so sacred?</p> + +<p>"After all, I think Saul Aronson's heart is not with the gentiles," said +old Barentzen, in a soothing voice. "Would he rather be buried when he +dies under some idolatrous mound stuck with the symbol of him whom Judas +righteously delivered——"</p> + +<p>"There never was such a Nazarene," broke in Cohen impetuously. "It is +all a fable and the text in Josephus was written in by the gentiles."</p> + +<p>"I say the Christ was real and rightly condemned as a creator of +sedition," said Rabofsky, with authoritative pomp. Like the misers of +every race, he was both devotee and formalist.</p> + +<p>"He is not mentioned in the talmud," argued Cohen. "Nor elsewhere, +until the history of our race crosses the history of the pagans. It is +all an invention."</p> + +<p>Thereupon the two zealots wrangled and jangled till Aronson's ears +ached. But his mind was dwelling upon old Barentzen's saying and sadly +acknowledging its truth. His heart was not really with the Christians. +What did he know of their teachings? He had been given a bible, but it +was locked in his office drawer, unread. Besides, these were deep +questions. Who was he to dispute the great doctors, like Moses ben +Maimon?</p> + +<p>"So be it, obstinate youth," said Rabofsky at last, waving his hands to +end the discussion.</p> + +<p>"I had begun to ask Saul Aronson a question," resumed Barentzen, in a +tone of rebuke. "Would you not rather lie like your fathers with the +shards on your eyelids and a handful of earth from the land of Israel +thrown over your resting-place?"</p> + +<p>Aronson hung his head.</p> + +<p>"Enough of this pleading and coaxing," snarled Cohen. "He is +stiff-necked, I see. I will put his name with the other traitors. There +are twenty in all. They shall be published in the next issue."</p> + +<p>"Stay," said Aronson.</p> + +<p>"On the first page," said Silberstein. "And the first page shall be hung +outward in my store window."</p> + +<p>"That the very children may know them for apostates and greedy +hypocrites," added Rabofsky, to clinch the threat.</p> + +<p>"Hold," cried Aronson. He foresaw the fatal result of his misstep. He +could hear the storm rising around him; the clamor of children on the +streets, the pointed fingers of men and women, the ironical comments +from the doorstep groups when he passed, the sly digs at the supper +table, the estranged glances of his mother. "It is all wrong," he cried.</p> + +<p>"Then, why do you haunt the gentile mountebanks?" asked Cohen, seizing +his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Fangled like a fop!" said Silberstein, catching his lapel.</p> + +<p>"And shun the blessed synagogue?" added another, fumbling at his vest +buttons.</p> + +<p>"Are you a gentile or a Jew?" questioned Rabofsky, as chief inquisitor.</p> + +<p>"I am a Jew!" cried Aronson, in honest wrath, tousled and clapperclawed +until his patience had given away. Then he rushed from the room.</p> + +<p>The list of "traitors" appeared in the Jewish Messenger without Saul +Aronson's name. The old, old conflict between love and honor had ended +with another defeat for the imperious boy-god. But it is no discredit to +Serena Lamb that her influence yielded to a passion which is hardly +second to any in the world for intensity—the Israelite's devotion to +his race. All that she retained of the young convert from whom so much +had been expected was a confused memory of the conversation in her +sitting-room. What had Aronson told her in his agitation during that +confidential interview? It would seem that he had been too frank. At +least, for several weeks after Serena's visit to McCausland, he was +strangely conscious that some one was dogging his footsteps, both at +home and about the office. Naturally, he ascribed this espionage to the +sacred brotherhood, whose power is great in Israel, and, fearing their +vigilance, redoubled his evening invocations and waxed regular in his +attendance at the synagogue.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE WRATH OF SHAGARACH.</h3> + + +<p>Walter Riley, Thomas J. Fenton and Arthur Watts had a separate trial +from the other members of the "club," which resorted to Lanty Lonergan's +back kitchen. There was only one charge against them—to wit, the +larceny of three bicycles and their sale to one Timothy Bagley, +aforesaid, dealer in junk.</p> + +<p>The government had little difficulty in proving its case. First, one of +the owners of the bicycles testified to having recognized his wheel, +cunningly repainted, in a stranger's possession, to following up its +rider and tracing it finally to an auction sale at which he had +purchased it cheap. From the auctioneer to Bagley, from Bagley to the +"club," was easy work for the officer detailed to investigate the theft. +Walter's unsold wheel was confiscated, together with all the other +stolen property on the premises, and no fewer than seven of the boys +placed under arrest. But the only charge against Riley, Fenton and Watts +was the theft of the bicycles.</p> + +<p>Bagley, the junkman, who was involved in the affair, had made a singular +confession, candid enough in most particulars but with great hiatuses +here and there concerning the disposal of certain articles, principally +articles of value—a watch, a meerschaum pipe and the third of the +bicycles. No threats or promises in private had been able to wring from +him a confession concerning these points. But at the mention of a pipe +Shagarach had raised his head and, crossing over to the prosecuting +attorney, secured a description of the missing object.</p> + +<p>"You admit, then, that you offered Riley $10 for the bicycle which he +had ridden?" asked Shagarach of Bagley on cross-examination.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"How often did you repeat this offer?"</p> + +<p>"Several times—about four or five times."</p> + +<p>"And the boy each time refused?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"What language did he use?"</p> + +<p>"He said the wheel wasn't his."</p> + +<p>"Which you knew very well, didn't you, without being told?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And when you proposed that Fenton should ride the bicycle over to your +shop, what was Riley's conduct then?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know of my own knowledge. But they told me that he wouldn't +have it."</p> + +<p>"He threatened them, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, you might call it threatening."</p> + +<p>"Then Riley would appear to have put forward some claim upon the +bicycle, although he denied that it was his. Would you not say that he +seemed to regard himself as its custodian rather than its proprietor? +That he was storing it in Lonergan's kitchen until the occasion should +arise when it might be returned to its owner?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the boys said he was sorry for taking the wheel and that he never +meant to steal it."</p> + +<p>"That is all—all on that point, I mean." Bagley had started to leave +the stand. "There is another matter, however, with regard to the third +bicycle—the one which has not been recovered"—Bagley shifted uneasily +to the opposite foot. "How does it happen that you, the sole repository +of the secrets of these young law-breakers, can tell us nothing of +that?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"And about the gold watch stolen from Mr. Merchant's window?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir."</p> + +<p>"And the meerschaum pipe—of rare coloring, according to the connoisseur +who testified in the previous trial?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about the watch and the pipe, sir. They are not in my +line. I couldn't dispose of such articles."</p> + +<p>"Ah! But you might be acquainted with somebody who could, might you +not?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I might——"</p> + +<p>"Some second-hand dealer, let us say?"</p> + +<p>Bagley's eye dropped and he looked pale.</p> + +<p>"Have you been visited, Bagley, by any one, since you were let out on +bail?"</p> + +<p>"Only by my bondsman."</p> + +<p>"What is your bondsman's name?"</p> + +<p>Bagley hesitated so long that the judge finally had to order him to +answer.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rabofsky," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Kindly subpoena Mr. Simon Rabofsky," said Shagarach to Aronson. "It is +that gentleman just starting to leave the room. He will remain for a few +moments."</p> + +<p>The writ was made out and handed by the awe-stricken Aronson to the +money-lender, who glared at him furiously. But he could not escape.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rabofsky is a second-hand dealer, I believe?" continued Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Of a higher class than yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes sir. Mr. Rabofsky's reputation is first class."</p> + +<p>"How much money did Simon Rabofsky offer you to keep him out of this +scrape?" was the next question. The witness looked over at the +money-lender in terror; then back at Shagarach, and his terror was +intensified.</p> + +<p>"No money," he finally gasped.</p> + +<p>"Would you be willing to swear that if Mr. Henderson, the owner of that +pipe, should call to-day at 84 Salem street and request Mrs. Rebecca +Rabofsky to sell him the colored meerschaum which her husband was +showing to a customer yesterday, when Mr. Shagarach called, he would be +told that no such article was in the store?"</p> + +<p>Either the length of the question or its import confused the witness.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," he answered.</p> + +<p>"You would not be willing——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I mean—that is—how do I know?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Henderson," said Shagarach, turning to a gentleman present, "will +doubtless be interested enough to try. He could be back in half an hour. +That will do, Bagley."</p> + +<p>During the half-hour Shagarach put on, as witnesses for the defense, +Walter's schoolmaster, who told an anecdote of his truthfulness and +another of his generosity, which were better than the warmest words of +general commendation; and Emily Barlow, whose story of the theft +accorded exactly with Walter's own, which was honestly told, with a +correctness of language that his former master did not fail to notice.</p> + +<p>"Only I never meant to steal it," he said finally. "We all clung +together and I was sorry before I got home. I read the papers to see if +the owners' names were given, but they lived too far out of town. If I +knew whose it was I would have ridden it out to him again."</p> + +<p>To all this the judge listened coldly. He was a new appointee, fearful +lest the balance of Libra on his unpracticed fingertip should incline +too much one way or the other. Just as Walter concluded, Mr. Henderson +returned and Simon Rabofsky was summoned to the stand. He muttered in +his beard and flashed a glance of hatred at Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"What do you know of this case?" asked the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>He looked furtively at Mr. Henderson.</p> + +<p>"That will do for the present. Mr. Henderson, will you kindly testify as +to the result of your search?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Henderson's testimony was brief and pointed. He had visited 84 Salem +street, stating that he came from Mr. Rabofsky and desired to see a +colored meerschaum pipe. The lady had shown him his own pipe. He had +priced it. Twenty-five dollars. She had procured it, she said——</p> + +<p>"One moment," interrupted Shagarach. "Will you kindly remain awhile, Mr. +Henderson? Mr. Rabofsky again."</p> + +<p>Rabofsky returned.</p> + +<p>"You have heard Mr. Henderson's testimony?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard it. If you had sense enough to ask me, I could have told +you that without sending him off on a wild-goose chase."</p> + +<p>Shagarach knew that Rabofsky was excited, because his accent came out so +strongly.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said, giving him the rope to hang himself by.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about this case. That pipe I took from a woman who wanted +money. I lent her $25 and she never came back. All I ask is what I paid +for it, no more, no less, and so I wash my hands of all of you."</p> + +<p>"Not yet," said Shagarach. "You are required by law to record the names +of persons who pawn articles. If we should send an officer down to your +shop would he find the woman's name in your book?"</p> + +<p>"She would not give me her name."</p> + +<p>"But you loaned her the money?"</p> + +<p>"She cried and was so poor I took pity——"</p> + +<p>"Enough," said Shagarach in temper. "Mr. Henderson!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Henderson replaced Rabofsky a second time.</p> + +<p>"You were about to say that you inquired of Mrs. Rabofsky where her +husband obtained the pipe, were you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I asked her that."</p> + +<p>"What was her answer?"</p> + +<p>"That it was his own pipe he had smoked for eleven years."</p> + +<p>This statement produced a visible effect on the spectators. It concluded +the defense for Walter Riley. After the prosecuting attorneys had +pleaded for sentence, Shagarach briefly addressed the judge.</p> + +<p>"The real criminals in this case, your honor, are the last two +witnesses—adults of responsible years, and one of them, at least, +enjoying a reputable position. They were the receivers of the stolen +goods and the encouragers of the crimes. Were I prosecuting attorney, I +should suspend the cases against the young defendants until justice had +been done to both of these maturer thieves.</p> + +<p>"I cannot look upon the deed committed on the lonely roadside at +Hillsborough as a serious offense, for which our code provides a +penalty. It was a prank, played in the ebullient spirit of mischief, but +given an ambiguous color by Miss Barlow's well-meant outcry of warning. +Evil resides in the intentions of the mind. Not until Fenton and Watts +disposed of the property which was not theirs was their misdemeanor +consummated and an unhappy practical jest warped into a legal theft.</p> + +<p>"Even then, I might recommend clemency to all three offenders, on +account of their youth and the restitution of the property. For I have +no doubt that the missing bicycle will be found installed beside the +meerschaum pipe in Simon Rabofsky's back room. But, considering the evil +associations which these boys have formed, and their unfortunate homes, +Fenton having no mother and Watts an intemperate one, I believe that a +short period of retirement, under the regular discipline of the +reformatory, would be of advantage to them.</p> + +<p>"But the case of Riley is different. His character is better than that +of the others. He is fortunate in possessing an excellent mother, who +depends upon him in part for support. Moreover, the refusal on his part +to dispose of the bicycle, against a pressure few boys of his age could +resist, shows a moral courage which is exceedingly rare in my +experience, and which only needs fostering to develop its possessor into +an admirable man. I, therefore, respectfully suggest that Riley be +placed on probation."</p> + +<p>If the judge were not so new to the bench he would have known that +Shagarach's addresses were always brief. But, knowing the great lawyer +only by reputation, he judged that the brevity of his plea denoted a +perfunctory interest in the case. The sentencing was deferred until 4 +o'clock, when a whole batch of prisoners filed into the "cage," one +after another, to receive their punishments.</p> + +<p>"Ochone!" cried a maundering old woman after every sentence, and even +the court officers whispered to each other:</p> + +<p>"Perkins is having a picnic to-day."</p> + +<p>But there was little severity in the sentence accorded to the +white-faced youth who came just before the three gamins. Emily +recognized in amazement Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall.</p> + +<p>"In consideration of your social standing," said the judge, "of your +promise to reform and of the fact that your weakness is one which +injures only yourself, I will mitigate the penalty."</p> + +<p>Then the clerk read out a fine of $20 and costs. The opium parlors of Hi +Wong King had recently been raided. That is to say, four tall, youngish +men had entered one evening and called for dinner. For Hi Wong King's +restaurant was open to all. Chicken wings had been served them and an +aromatic salad. Jelly pats had been dropped over their heads into dainty +plates, on which droll baboons scratched their heads and tigers grimaced +fiercely. Such is the art of the orient. Tea leaves newly steeped in a +bowl had taught them their first lesson in the needlessness of sugar and +milk; and they had practiced with the merry chopsticks, a pair in each +hand. Then, by way of diversion, they broke through the painted screens +into Hi Wong King's rear parlors and arrested eight opium smokers, +Mongol and Caucasian, of both sexes; among these one who was dreaming +over a peculiarly elegant pipe proved to be Emily's admirer.</p> + +<p>"Riley, Fenton and Watts, stand up," said the clerk. Walter's cheeks +were burning red, as he stood between his companions. They seemed to +feel the disgrace less keenly and looked at the clerk with sheepish and +cunning glances.</p> + +<p>"Fenton and Watts, you are sentenced to the reform school during your +minority, and Riley for the space of one year!"</p> + +<p>"Ochone!" broke out the maundering old woman and a chill fell on Emily's +heart. Then the voice of Shagarach was heard in wrath. The building +seemed to quake with its power. It was such a voice as that Roman +tribune may have owned who could make himself heard from end to end of +the forum.</p> + +<p>"Sir, you have just imposed a nominal fine on a mature man, who has not +only, as you speciously alleged, ruined himself by a degrading vice, but +done what example could to spread its contagion. Immediately after you +sentence three poor children to long terms of imprisonment. Are you +ignorant that four in seven of all who enter those institutions return +to them sooner or later? Do you see no possible spark of reform in the +natures of these boys, no means of tiding over the danger period of +youth, the formative years, the sowing season? Or do you think to +scatter seeds inside a jail and reap some other crop than crime? Sir, it +is not my sense of justice that social standing should condone offenses +and social obscurity magnify them."</p> + +<p>The ticking of the clock could be heard when Shagarach paused. Officer +looked at officer, as if they expected immediately to be called upon to +execute a sentence of contempt on the audacious lawyer. But Shagarach's +reputation was great, and Judge Perkins could not afford to inaugurate +his session in the Criminal Court by a conflict with such a man. He only +stroked his chin nervously and pulled at his severe legal whiskers.</p> + +<p>"I do not know which is the more deserving of censure," continued +Shagarach, "the dangerous laxity of the one judgment, which virtually +acquits a convicted lawbreaker, or the atrocious severity of the other, +which condemns to a year's whole punishment the innocent act, already +more than atoned for, of a boy for whose uprightness I would pledge my +personal word."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you are willing to vouch for the boy's good behavior," said the +judge, "I will put him on probation and reconsider the other sentences."</p> + +<p>"I will accept the charge," said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>Emily's heart leaped for joy, and Mrs. Riley could not be restrained +from rushing forward and embracing Walter in rapture. But the most +touching moment came when Walter walked over to Shagarach and, with +tears in his eyes, but a stanch voice, said: "I want to show you I am +grateful."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>COUNT L'ALIENADO.</h3> + + +<p>"Here is the substitute I promised you, Rosalie. Miss March—Count +L'Alienado."</p> + +<p>There was a vacant seat in the barouche that stood before the Marches' +villa. It had been destined for Tristram, but even behind the black +glasses he wore the August sunshine dazzled his eyes, so he was +compelled at the last moment to excuse himself.</p> + +<p>"Mme. Violet—his lordship, the Earl of Marmouth."</p> + +<p>Count L'Alienado was thus informally presented to his other two riding +companions. There was just a suggestion of Spanish reserve in his +obeisance, and he bowed a graceful adieu to Tristram before mounting to +his seat.</p> + +<p>It was curious that Tristram should have been the first to break the +count's incognito. He had arrived at Lenox a few days before, attended +by a single valet, and registered at the hotel as M. L. L'Alienado, +Valencia. Though not imposing in stature, he exhibited a head of rare +distinction—the black beard trimmed to an exquisite point at the chin +and the curled mustaches setting off a pair of glowing eyes which +riveted the beholder from the moment he met their gaze.</p> + +<p>As the artist spoke Spanish, they had become friends in an afternoon.</p> + +<p>"We have flattered ourselves that the coaching party is something purely +American," said Rosalie, who sat beside him, to the stranger.</p> + +<p>"I am glad of it for the color. That is an element I have observed to be +generally a little lacking in your life."</p> + +<p>"Color and lordliness," sighed Mme. Violet. "Ah, there are no +troubadours, no spurred cavaliers, no mailed knights in this busy +America—not even scarlet soldiers parading. You men are so dingy, dingy +in your black propriety. Why be so funereal? My heart goes out sometimes +to a very mountebank, all spangled and jingling like a tambourine when +he moves. Color! Give me color. Ah, it is not we who have taste, it is +the canaille! It is Victorine, my lady's maid, with her bonnet-ribbons +flaunting all the colors of the rainbow."</p> + +<p>A silk banner lay outspread in Rosalie's lap, throwing warm blushes +against her throat. It was the prize for the gentlemen's steeplechase, +which was to close the programme of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Scarlet, sea-blue and gold," she cried, stroking the tasseled fringe +which justified the last addition. "Are not these the primary hues, the +major chord of color, and the white their perfect blending?"</p> + +<p>The Violet laughed. When addressing her directly or referring to her in +her own presence, people carefully called her Mme. Violet. But to the +world, out of earshot, she was simply the Violet, just as Cleopatra is +Cleopatra. It was taken for granted that her blood was French, but Count +L'Alienado, noting her fawn-brown eyes and the strong black hair, which +made Rosalie's fluff appear like carded golden silk—thought he detected +the marks of the Romany. Yet the full mouth hinted at a Spanish cross. +She was not very young, or, at first sight, very beautiful, but she +possessed a diablerie stronger than girlhood or beauty, and gossip said +the Earl of Marmouth was succumbing to its spell.</p> + +<p>"The signal!" cried Rosalie, as the notes of a hunting-horn pealed, +faint and mellow, from a distant quarter. "It is time to start."</p> + +<p>For several minutes the occupants of the barouche lay back, reveling in +the luxury of the cushions and in the changing view which the drive +afforded. Other equipages swept into the main road here and there, from +cottage and mansion and by-path, each freighted with its cargo of +flower-raimented beauty. Marshals in velvet hunting garb galloped up and +down, with low salutes to the passengers and brusque orders to the +coachmen. On the top of a little hill there came a pause while the +procession was arranging itself, and the conversation rippled out again.</p> + +<p>"The color is overdone," said the Earl of Marmouth. "It smacks of Latin +degeneracy."</p> + +<p>"Such as appears in the canvases of Titian?" asked Count L'Alienado +quietly.</p> + +<p>The Violet, sitting opposite him, caressed her bronze-eyed spaniel to +her cheek, so that she might survey the newcomer more closely. His +lordship, at her side, alone of the party had sat upright during the +ride.</p> + +<p>"You are Spanish, not Italian, I am told," he said, much in the tone of +a hotel clerk demanding the settlement of an overdue bill. The Violet's +eyes met the count's interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Question me in Castilian," he smiled.</p> + +<p>"Where are your estates?"</p> + +<p>"In Valencia."</p> + +<p>"I was there last autumn. I seem to have overlooked the L'Alienados."</p> + +<p>"Our estates are in dispute with another branch of the family."</p> + +<p>Marmouth grunted.</p> + +<p>"The title is very old?" asked Rosalie, to blunt the edge of his +impertinence.</p> + +<p>"Not very old," answered Count L'Alienado, gently, but looking full at +Marmouth. "Before Columbus set out from Palos my ancestor was knighted +by Ferdinand the Great—for honorable services."</p> + +<p>"We are moving at last," growled the earl, as if personally grieved at +the delay. His own title was less than 200 years old and the services +for which it was granted, by the second Charles, though historic, could +not possibly be called honorable.</p> + +<p>"Ah, this is joyous!" cried the Violet, as the sensuous pleasure of the +ride stole over her. A quick-step, taken from the start, gave the party +a gentle jolting, just sufficiently softened by the padded carriage +upholstery. Up hill and down dale, through the riches of midsummer, the +route chosen wound. Forest and meadow sailed leisurely by them. +Handkerchiefs waved from piazza and window wherever they passed a +dwelling house, and at every cross-road stood a group of the fresh-faced +country-folk to give them greeting. At the end of an hour the road +recurved on itself along a hillside overlooking the valley of the racing +park and the pageant bent its length into the form of a letter S, so +that without the delay of a formal review each carriage was permitted to +inspect the others.</p> + +<p>Count L'Alienado saw barges filled with maidens, like living flowers, +four-in-hand tally-hos, crowded with sportive collegians, odd +jaunting-cars and donkey-carts got up by the wags, staid family coaches +with footmen faced rearward to enjoy the retrospect, and open drags like +his own without number, all brilliant with lovely womanhood.</p> + +<p>The Violet stood apart from the others, sensuous and exotic—like an +orange lily in a garden of snowdrops. But, supreme over all, like a +bright light, enhanced by reflectors, shone the loveliness of Rosalie +March—pure, placid and faultlessly costumed as ever. The jockeys +whispered to one another when her vehicle entered the racing park. An +eager look at that moment chased away the slight hauteur of her +expression—not unbecoming in one so clearly removed from the common +order, and far from approaching disdain. She turned her head toward the +stables expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Paradise," said the Violet, when they had entered and the carriages +circled around the great oval.</p> + +<p>"This is something like England," said the earl.</p> + +<p>"None the worse for that," smiled Rosalie.</p> + +<p>"No. Most of the good things I have seen here are derived from the +mother country."</p> + +<p>"Do you agree, Count L'Alienado?" asked Rosalie, appealing to the +stranger.</p> + +<p>"Candor is too sharp a sword to carry about unsheathed," answered Count +L'Alienado.</p> + +<p>Mme. Violet smiled archly, bringing her Gainsborough brim close to the +earl's great face and caressing her spaniel with provoking abandon.</p> + +<p>Rosalie's little abstraction since they passed through the gate might +easily be understood, for Harry Arnold was entered in the steeplechase +for gentlemen riders.</p> + +<p>"There they come!" she cried, but it was only a group of motley jockeys +for the ring race. This passed off quietly enough.</p> + +<p>"Now for the steeplechase," cried Rosalie. "There's Harry!" She +instinctively plucked the Violet's hand. Then, remembering they were not +alone, she colored. Harry led the group of riders who came from the +stables, mounted on strong-limbed steeplechasers. His uniform was of +the bulrush brown velvet he liked, and his horse a bright chestnut, +which pranced as if proud to carry such a master. Even at a distance his +splendid seat gave presage of victory.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arnold is the favorite," said Count L'Alienado.</p> + +<p>"Although he gives away forty pounds to Leroy," added Rosalie, the +technical terms of the track coming strangely from her lips. It was +fortunate for her peace of mind Tristram was not there to hear them.</p> + +<p>"Now they start!" she cried, alive with interest; but it was only Harry +Arnold who spurted his curvetting chestnut across the turf, then reined +him up on his haunches with a sudden jerk, as you may have seen an old +cavalry sergeant perform the trick. But Leroy, who, as Rosalie said, +weighed nearly half a hundred less, wisely reserved his white horse's +strength.</p> + +<p>"Now!" repeated Rosalie, unconsciously clasping the flag, as if eager to +bestow it. The horses, six in number, had started in a bunch and kept +together easily till the pistol flash. Then each bounded as if cut with +a whip, and rider and horse bent forward.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" shouted the ring of onlookers about the inclosure, as all six +took the first low wall together. The course led straightway across the +oval, up a hill at one end, then out of sight for a circuit of a mile, +and back by another route, over ditch and mound. Harry Arnold's chestnut +and Leroy's white could be seen a length in the lead of the others and +neck and neck, as they struggled up the hill and sunk to view on the +other side.</p> + +<p>"How glorious! How delightful!" cried the Violet, in the interim of +suspense. "It is better than the wild Indians that rode in the coliseum +last year. Your full-blooded racers, they are too lean, like +grasshoppers. Oh, the steeplechase is better. I believe, after all, you +owe something to old England, which bequeathed you this legacy."</p> + +<p>"You remember the horse-race in 'Anna Karenina?'" asked his lordship, +much mollified. "One of the most ethical of books, in the broader sense +of the word."</p> + +<p>His question seemed addressed to Count L'Alienado.</p> + +<p>"I have not read the Russians," he answered.</p> + +<p>"You are behind the world, senor. And where may your diversions lie?"</p> + +<p>"My favorites," he answered, "are the Persian poets."</p> + +<p>Rosalie desisted for a moment from scanning the black crest of the +distant hill with her great eyes full of eagerness. Then she recovered +herself suddenly, and cried out, in a piercing voice:</p> + +<p>"They are coming!"</p> + +<p>"Who is ahead?"</p> + +<p>"The chestnut and the white are even," said the count.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope he will win!" prayed Rosalie, clutching the prizes she was +to award. Down the slope they strained, heading toward the goal. Only a +close side view could have disclosed the advantage in favor of either.</p> + +<p>"Harry Arnold will win," said Count L'Alienado. "Leroy is whipping his +horse."</p> + +<p>The count's judgment proved correct. Almost immediately the chestnut +began drawing away from the white. A nose, a neck, half a length, and +the clear ground intervened. Harry did not touch whip or spur to the +sides of his mount, until the last leap, when a high wall and a long +ditch had to be taken together. On the very rise of the jump he switched +his chestnut's flanks, and just as the conductor's baton seems a wand +visibly producing the swell of the orchestra, so this light motion +seemed to give the impulse to the horse's spring. The clatter of his +feet on the hard turf beyond announced him the winner amid cheers. +Leroy's white took the ditch gallantly, too, but the blood showed red in +its nostrils.</p> + +<p>Instead of reining up at the goal, Harry executed a characteristic +caprice. The fence surrounding the race-track was nearly five feet high. +Careering on at full gallop, the victor urged his animal toward this +obstacle. A great shout greeted him as he cleared it, the chestnut's +hind hoofs grazing the boards. Then, swiftly turning to the right, he +cantered up to Rosalie's carriage, gracefully backed his horse and +saluted. Leroy joined him through the gate, and stood at his side, +while the losers straggled in, haphazard and blown.</p> + +<p>"That was for you, Rosalie," said Harry in her ear as she laid the +flagstaff in his hand. It was meant for a whisper, but others heard it, +and on the morrow the news had spread all over Lenox that Harry Arnold +and the beautiful Rosalie March were definitely betrothed. When it +reached Mrs. Arnold in Hillsborough, as though by special messenger, she +retired at once to her room.</p> + +<p>The coaching party paraded out and dispersed amid merrymakings freer +than before. Mme. Violet was bewitching during the journey home, making +up by a double stream of effortless prattle for Rosalie's unwonted +silence.</p> + +<p>"But Poe," protested the girl, as if waking suddenly, when the earl, who +had got back to book talk again, inveighed against the poverty of our +literature.</p> + +<p>"Ting-a-ling," said his noble lordship. The carriage had just stopped to +leave Count L'Alienado at his hotel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE PURPLE TEA.</h3> + + +<p>"The Earl of Marmouth sends his regards. He will be unable to join us." +Tristram March held a coroneted note in his hands while he made this +announcement to the company. There was a faint salvo of regrets, meant +for the Violet's ears. Only Miss Milly Mills was heard remarking, sotto +voce:</p> + +<p>"I'm glad the old bear is chained for once."</p> + +<p>"But the grizzly is grand in its den, dear," chided Dorothea Goodbody, a +little louder.</p> + +<p>"True. We do not fit everywhere," said the Violet, who had overheard +them. "Imagine Thoreau in a salon."</p> + +<p>"Or Talleyrand in the Walden woods," added Count L'Alienado.</p> + +<p>More than one of the company had noted this as the third occasion on +which his noble lordship avoided a meeting with the count. Was it that +in the reserved Spaniard he had encountered a force which he could not +overbear? Or was he jealous of the count's attention to the Violet? +Twice at the Ryecroft's hop she had inadvertently answered the slender +foreigner and turned her smooth, brown shoulder to the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Tristram, "the menagerie must perform without its lion."</p> + +<p>"How flattering, brother!" cried Rosalie. Harry Arnold was leaning over +her chair. "You compare us to wolves and panthers."</p> + +<p>"Not unhappily," said the Violet. "Mine host is clever. He will put us +all in an apologue like Aesop's. I am curious to see how I shall be +transformed."</p> + +<p>"The mood is wanting," cried Tristram, while the young ladies seconded +the suggestion. "I am savage. I should affront you all with some furious +satire."</p> + +<p>"Imagine Tristram furious," said Harry.</p> + +<p>"A smothered volcano. I have committed to-day the sin against the Holy +Ghost. Guess what that is?"</p> + +<p>"Success," said the Violet.</p> + +<p>"Candor," the count.</p> + +<p>"Bachelorhood," Miss Milly Mills.</p> + +<p>"Punning," his sister Rosalie.</p> + +<p>But Tristram shook his head drearily at each response.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, tell us," cried a chorus of impatient voices.</p> + +<p>"I have prostituted art to lucre—having disposed of my great design of +Ajax's shield—for what purpose, do you think?"</p> + +<p>All the guesses were wild again.</p> + +<p>"For a bed-spread," said Tristram, and there was a chorus of laughter, +amid which the circle broke up into little moving knots, all +electrically united, however, so that the talk flew from one part of the +room to another.</p> + +<p>It was one of Tristram's soirees, which were the events of the season in +Lenox. The flavor of art was substituted for that of artificiality, and +usually some souvenir, bearing the touch of the host's own fanciful +hand, was carried away by each of the guests. The coveted invitation for +this night's affair announced "a purple tea," and the furnishings +verified the description. Rich muslin shades over the chandeliers +(Rosalie's work) purpled all the atmosphere of the parlors. Purple +hangings here and there carried out the suggestion, but not too +obtrusively, and each of the guests appeared with some purple garment.</p> + +<p>Among the ladies these generally verged toward the wine-colored shades, +for they were all too young to carry well the full warmth of the Tyrian. +Thus the Violet's mantilla, Rosalie's cloud, Harry Arnold's sash, were +all steeped to the same dye, now the crimson, now the blue element +prevailing in the mixture. Count L'Alienado alone appeared to have +evaded the rule until, raising his right hand to smell a rose, he +scattered a pencil of purple light from an opalescent stone which none +present were learned enough in lapidary science to name.</p> + +<p>"Let's have tableau charades!" cried Miss Milly Mills, who flitted from +person to person, from subject to subject, like a butterfly, and was +accused of a partiality for spruce gum. The suggestion was taken up with +approval, and nearly every one present acted out the first word that +came to him on the spur of the moment.</p> + +<p>Tristram gave what he called a definition of himself in lengthy +pantomime which no one could fathom. So he was obliged to explain that +meed—eye—ochre—tea, summed up "mediocrity," at which one and all +protested. Most of the other attempts were quite as laborious. But when +the Violet stepped forward and trilled an upper C, then buzzed like an +insect and put her right foot forward, there was a unanimous cry of +"Trilby!" and the flatness began to be taken out of the game.</p> + +<p>Then the pleasures grew more miscellaneous and Count L'Alienado found +himself for a time alone on the outer balcony with Mme. Violet. The sky +was starlit above, the shadows lay deep in the garden bushes below, and +the diamonds burned amid her braids. They talked of the Persian poets +till the light voice of Tristram within interrupted them and a ripple +of laughter from the purple interior reached their ears.</p> + +<p>"Ah, this is not fair; that our wisest and wittiest should impoverish +the company by their absence. Your places are waiting and the bell is +tired of tinkling to you."</p> + +<p>"We were lost among the stars," replied Count L'Alienado.</p> + +<p>Opposite the count sat Harry Arnold; opposite the Violet, Rosalie. +Waiters were serving refreshments, and a purple tea was poured into the +wine-colored cups. On each table lay a souvenir containing verse or +prose by Tristram March, with fantastic decorations in the border. Harry +Arnold was just passing the souvenir of their table to Rosalie. It +contained a caricature in profile of Tristram himself, and a brief +"Autobiography," which Harry read aloud:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I went to school<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Ridicule.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He taught me civility,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peacock humility,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Depth and subtility<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feste, the fool.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meeker and meeker becomes my mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From studying Conscious Rectitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if my speech be firm and pat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Madam Garrulity taught me that."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Oh, I hate sarcasm," burst out Rosalie. "Why won't you be literal, +commonplace, something positive, if it's only a woman-hater?"</p> + +<p>"An abominable fault, brother Tristram," said Harry, sternly.</p> + +<p>"Hideous!" cried the others, drowning poor Rosalie's homily in a flood +of irony more heartless than Tristram's own.</p> + +<p>Then Rosalie gave him up as incorrigible.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Count L'Alienado's jewel has not a legend attached to it?" +said some one.</p> + +<p>"It is an alamandine ruby from Siam," began the count.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do go on," cried Miss Milly Mills from the rear, who had been +listening over her shoulder. "Tell us the story. I'm sure it will be +better than Cleverly's last book."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it isn't better than that——"</p> + +<p>"But the setting was fresh," said Tristram, who was Cleverly's friend. +"He rehangs his gallery well, even if the portraits are familiar."</p> + +<p>"This talisman of mine has indeed a story attached to it," said Count +L'Alienado at last, "but you may read hundreds better in any book of +oriental tales. Its quality, however, is curious. You know that +mesmerism has long been known in the east, and that many of the occult +feats of the Hindoo magicians are ascribed to that power. It was an Arab +caliph who first attributed to this stone the quality of securing +immunity to its possessor from the magic trance. As a matter of fact, I +have never been hypnotized while I wore it."</p> + +<p>"A challenge, Harry," said Tristram.</p> + +<p>"You possess the power?" asked the count.</p> + +<p>"So I am told," laughed Harry.</p> + +<p>"People go to sleep at his bidding," said Tristram. "He is the surest +recipe I have seen for insomnia."</p> + +<p>"Except the Rev. Dr. Fourthly," whispered Miss Milly Mills, but at this +Dorothea Goodbody looked shocked.</p> + +<p>"Shall I hypnotize you, Rosalie?" smiled Harry to his sweetheart.</p> + +<p>But Rosalie shook her head with a little shudder.</p> + +<p>"The count," said the Violet.</p> + +<p>"The count! Hypnotize the count!" a chorus echoed.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the Spaniard; "a moment till I invoke the genii of the +carbuncle. Now."</p> + +<p>"Are you ready?" said Harry, laughing a little awkwardly. He made one or +two cabalistic passes with his hands, looking straight into the eyes of +the count. They were large burning eyes, the like of which Harry had +never met before. Gazing into their depths, he seemed to feel a new +spell. They were drawing him, drawing his soul away. Other objects +disappeared. Rosalie, Tristram, the Violet—he clutched at them, but +they were gone. The count himself grew shadowy. Only his eyes—fixed, +haunting, luminous—remained, centering a vast drab vault, which was all +that was left of the populous world and its occupants. What could Harry +do but surrender his faculties and be absorbed like the rest?</p> + +<p>"It is Harry who is hypnotized," cried Tristram. Rosalie fixed her gaze +on her lover's face.</p> + +<p>"Raise your right hand," said the count. Harry obeyed. His stare was +glassy, his lower lip stupidly dropped.</p> + +<p>"Do you know this glove?" asked the count, raising a lemon-colored kid.</p> + +<p>"I do," came the answer, mechanical, monotonous.</p> + +<p>"Try it on."</p> + +<p>Harry drew the glove on his right hand, his eyes never leaving those of +the count.</p> + +<p>"Button it tightly," said the Spaniard. "Do you remember where you wore +this glove last?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Can you see the side door opening from the passageway?"</p> + +<p>"I can."</p> + +<p>"Do you recognize the youth who is entering?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Is it Harry Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"It is Harry Arnold."</p> + +<p>"Does he listen cautiously?"</p> + +<p>"He listens cautiously."</p> + +<p>"Does he climb the stairs softly?"</p> + +<p>"He climbs the stairs softly."</p> + +<p>"Does he enter the study?"</p> + +<p>The young man's face twitched and convulsed. His eyes started from their +sockets. The foam rose to his lips as they worked.</p> + +<p>"Harry!"</p> + +<p>It was the agonized cry of Rosalie March, throwing herself upon her +lover and turning defiantly at Count L'Alienado, whose fierce insistence +had amazed the onlookers. The spell seemed to be broken, for Harry sunk +from his chair, supported by Rosalie's arms.</p> + +<p>"Some wine," cried Tristram, chafing Harry's forehead and gently +striving to unclasp his sister's arms. But she clung to her sweetheart +with love in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Count L'Alienado approached the unconscious man, the crowd parting +before him.</p> + +<p>"Wake!" he said, "and forget!" Harry's eyes shut naturally and then +opened. He drank the wine which Rosalie pressed to his lips. In a few +minutes he was erect, eagerly questioning the company.</p> + +<p>"Call it a faint," said Count L'Alienado, quietly. "It is better that he +should not know."</p> + +<p>"But what was it all about?" asked Miss Milly Mills, on tiptoe with +curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Only an experiment in clairvoyance," answered Count L'Alienado.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<h3>THREE TIMES RUNNING.</h3> + + +<p>Shagarach's office was a hive of industry the next time Emily Barlow +called. Walter Riley, installed in Jacob's place, looked smartly +clerical, with a pen over one ear, docketing some papers, and Aronson +was knitting his brows over a decision in the digest. But the lawyer +himself, she thought, did not appear to have profited greatly by his +fortnight's vacation. His cheek was worn and his manner betrayed an +unusual aberration at times.</p> + +<p>He had returned only the evening before. When she entered the parlor to +greet him his mother found the padlock chain of the Persian poets torn +through their edges, and her son face down on the carpet buried in a +volume of Hafiz, with Sadi and Firdusi scattered near. She trembled, but +she did not disturb him.</p> + +<p>"Our cause progresses," he said, in answer to Emily's query. "Important +links have been discovered since we last conferred."</p> + +<p>The sweet girl lifted her eyebrows and waited.</p> + +<p>"In the first place we shall put Harry Arnold on the stand. I have +traced him to the door of the study a moment before the fire was set."</p> + +<p>Emily bit her lip just a trifle in disappointment, for her own cherished +theory would only be embarrassed by the presence of Harry Arnold there.</p> + +<p>"The other points?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You remember the peddler in the green cart, alluded to in Ellen +Greeley's letter, who carried messages to some person unknown?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"Three witnesses stand ready to swear that a peddler in a green cart +cried his wares through the roads of Woodlawn about the time of the fire +and frequently stopped at the house of the Arnolds."</p> + +<p>"That connects them legally," said Emily, still more discontented. "How +soon do you expect a trial?"</p> + +<p>"In less than two weeks. I am sorry you will have to shorten your +vacation."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is better over; the suspense is agony."</p> + +<p>"The door, Walter," said Shagarach, as she passed out. Pretty soon he +went home to his own midday meal. Aronson was called away to look up a +title and left the Whistler in charge.</p> + +<p>Walter had already caught just a little of his employer's decision of +manner, which sat oddly on his rosy face, but was no more, after all, +than a laudable aspiration toward manfulness. The lawyer had discovered +his skill with the pencil and his mechanical interests, and had set him +to work evenings copying the designs in a drawing manual. Meanwhile, his +gamesome impulses had quieted a good deal, and it was only when the +office was empty, as now, that the old rich whistle was heard. Shagarach +and Shagarach's suggestions seemed to consume that whole fund of +adolescent energy which formerly had overleaped all bounds in its search +for an outlet.</p> + +<p>He was just in the middle of a skylark solo, interrupted by bites at the +contents of his lunch-box, when a white-bearded old man entered. At +first Walter, hearing the limp on the stairs, took it for old Diebold, +the pensioner, one of Shagarach's clients. The lunch-box vanished like +magic and there was a hasty brushing of crumbs and swallowing of a +half-masticated mouthful before he turned the knob.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Shagarach in?" asked the stranger, glancing around with a senile +leer.</p> + +<p>"Not now, sir, but I expect him soon," answered Walter. "He's gone to +dinner. Won't you be seated while you wait for him?"</p> + +<p>"How long?" said the old man, mumbling his words, as if he were +toothless, and nodding at the boy over and over again.</p> + +<p>"How long before he comes back? Oh, he never stays away long. He'll be +here in five minutes, I guess."</p> + +<p>The old man sat down feebly in the chair. Such a strange old man, +thought Walter. His white beard almost covering his face and reaching +down on his bosom, and long white curls coming out from under his hat. +He must be almost a hundred, said the boy to himself. Yet his eyes +rolled around quickly and his skin wasn't wrinkled at the corners of the +eyes, nor did he have those time-scored furrows in the neck that +soldiers call saber cuts.</p> + +<p>"Buy a pencil," he said to Walter, taking out a bunch from his pocket.</p> + +<p>Walter shook his head in some disappointment. It was only a peddler, +after all.</p> + +<p>"Two for five," persisted the visitor.</p> + +<p>Should he show him the door? Mr. Shagarach did not like to be troubled +with peddlers, but this one was so very old. Walter hesitated about +dismissing him. Besides he had asked for the lawyer. Perhaps he had some +business, too.</p> + +<p>Just then Shagarach's brisk step was heard in the entry, and the little +man came flying across the room to his desk in the inner office.</p> + +<p>"That is Mr. Shagarach?" asked the gray-beard, jerking his thumb and +leering again.</p> + +<p>"Walter," said Shagarach. Walter jumped and was preceding the visitor in +when a terrible snarl of rage caused him to turn. The white-bearded old +man seemed to have been transformed into a beast, glaring with his wild +blue eyes and gritting his great teeth at Shagarach. He raised a bottle +in his hand and hurled its contents at the lawyer. But Walter had caught +his arm and pulled it down with all the might in his bourgeoning +muscles. The liquor hissed where it fell, and several drops spattered on +his neck and bosom, causing him to shrink as if touched with a caustic. +Still he tore at the old man's face, and covered the mouth of the bottle +with his palm so as to intercept the hot shower.</p> + +<p>Shagarach had been looking down at some papers when he first heard the +sound of the old man's breath forced between his teeth. As quick as +thought he reached for the paper-weight and hurled it with all his +force. It struck the stranger full in the forehead, cutting a ragged +gash with its edge. Then the lawyer sprung from his chair, following up +his missile with the quickness of a cat. But just as he reached across +Walter's body the boy fell back in his arms with a shriek of pain, the +stranger's white beard coming away in his fingers.</p> + +<p>"The oaf!" cried Shagarach, but the assailant was gone in a flash.</p> + +<p>"Water! Water!" shrieked the office boy, writhing in his arms.</p> + +<p>The lawyer glanced around. The wainscoting was charred where the liquor +had fallen. The boy's jacket was eaten away in holes. It was vitriol +that had been thrown.</p> + +<p>"A quart of lime-water at the nearest apothecary's," he shouted to +Aronson, who had just come back. "And the first physician you can fetch. +Don't lose a second."</p> + +<p>Aronson was off like the wind, while Shagarach unbuttoned the boy's vest +and tore away the saturated portions of his undergarments that were +clinging to his shriveled skin. Already great blisters rose under the +action of the acid.</p> + +<p>"Will you telephone central 431, Inspector McCausland," he said to the +tenant opposite who had been attracted in by the noise. "Ask him to call +at once, and state that I have been attacked again."</p> + +<p>It was the physician who arrived first, then Aronson. Walter's burns +were bathed profusely with the lime-water, and the blisters pricked open +by the doctor's needle. After the first agony he bore the pain without a +groan. His breast and palm would be scarred for life, but the only wound +on the visible parts was a long, pear-shaped corrosion extending along +the side of his neck. You may imagine how tenderly Shagarach nursed him +and how excitedly Aronson ran to and fro fetching whatever was asked +for.</p> + +<p>"It is time this should be stopped," said McCausland, entering. But he +was not alone. He held a great bloodhound in leash. "It was the same +customer, I suppose? Can you give me any article belonging to the man? I +picked up this in the doorway."</p> + +<p>He held up a white wig.</p> + +<p>"The false beard," cried Walter, holding it out from the stretcher on +which they were bundling him.</p> + +<p>"Better the blood drops," said Shagarach. "Search the stairs. He was +wounded."</p> + +<p>McCausland rushed out, his hound tugging strongly at the leash.</p> + +<p>"Smell, Wolf, smell," they could hear him saying, and then a half-trip +and a clatter down the stairs told that the dog had caught the scent and +nearly pulled the inspector off his feet.</p> + +<p>"I am glad it is no worse, Walter. The doctor will do all that skill can +to soothe your pain. You have saved my life twice," said Shagarach, +pressing the boy's hands, which were clasped over his bosom, where the +lint lay on his burns. Gently the ambulance men carried him down the +stairs, with never a cry from his brave lips tightened over the sound.</p> + +<p>"I will call to-night, Walter. May you be better then," said the lawyer, +giving the driver Mrs. Riley's address. The physician climbed into the +spare seat and the wagon drove off with its suffering passenger.</p> + +<p>"A cap, a coat button and a false beard," said Shagarach. "And still we +grope in the dark. Yet an anatomist will reconstruct a mastodon from a +fragment of his tooth!"</p> + +<p>"Lost again," said McCausland, re-entering with his bloodhound, which +nosed about in corners of the room. The inspector sat down, puffing and +looked thoroughly disgusted.</p> + +<p>"You lost the trail?"</p> + +<p>"Never fear Wolf for that. Lie down, Wolf! No; the hound kept his track +through all the cross-scents of the city—something to boast of, +that—there was blood dripping here and there, that I knew by his +yelping. By the way, you must have struck him hard."</p> + +<p>"The paper-weight is heavy," said Shagarach, picking it up from under +the desk where it had rolled. As he did so the hound gave a roar and a +bound, and stood up to reach it with his forepaws.</p> + +<p>"Down, Wolf! Lie down!" cried McCausland, sternly. "There is blood on +the edge. That may help us another time."</p> + +<p>"Take it," said Shagarach. "But you lost the trail, you said."</p> + +<p>"It vanished into the air. Wolf took us to the northern station, running +me off my feet all the way—through the waiting-room, up and down the +platform twice, inside track gate No. 5, and then—flatted fair and +square. You know the random way he runs about when he's lost the scent? +Our man had taken a train."</p> + +<p>"The western express, 12:59," said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"I have had occasion to take the same train at track No. 5 on a visit to +Woodlawn. Had he purchased a ticket?"</p> + +<p>"No man with a cut on his face, or of our description."</p> + +<p>"Then he has a trip ticket and lives there."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"At Woodlawn," said the lawyer. "Near Harry Arnold."</p> + +<p>McCausland smiled incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Is Woodlawn the only station between here and Albany?" he asked. +"However, I telegraphed along the route to have the runaway stopped."</p> + +<p>"What time did you send the telegram?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"At 1:19 by the station clock."</p> + +<p>"Just a minute too late. The express reaches Woodlawn at 1:18. It is the +first station."</p> + +<p>"Heigho! Here's a to-do. What about Woodlawn?" asked a cheerful voice. +It was Dr. Jonas Silsby, brown as a berry, with a broad-brimmed straw +hat and a basketful of botanical specimens under one arm. The casual +observer would have taken him for an uncommonly good-looking farmer, +bringing some choice greens to market.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<h3>A HUT IN THE FOREST.</h3> + + +<p>"Who's talking of Woodlawn? Just where I came from, and if the fronds of +those ferns aren't as fine-cut as petals, then I don't know an oak from +a gooseberry bush."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Silsby—Inspector McCausland."</p> + +<p>The men clasped hands.</p> + +<p>"Didn't meet a maniac with a gash in his forehead on the way back, did +you?" laughed McCausland.</p> + +<p>"Maniac—well, no; but I've rooted out a peeping Tom there, that's been +frightening the women."</p> + +<p>"How was that?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"It was those ferns did it. Aren't they beauties, though? Feel! Silky! +Maidenhair! Rare variety."</p> + +<p>"They helped you find the peeping Tom?" said Shagarach, who knew the +botanist's tendency to forget.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Dr. Silsby. "I was just about to tell that story. You +know the hemlock forest back of the blue hills in Woodlawn—marshy place +thereabouts, lots of clay in the soil—some of it on those boots, eh? +Well, those ferns came from there. Didn't walk in of themselves, I +guess. No, I had to wade for them. Pretty boggy, but not quite up to the +Dismal swamp. Well, I was feeling about, pulling up things, when I came +on the hut."</p> + +<p>"A hut?"</p> + +<p>"I call it a hut by courtesy. Begging your pardon, said I, and tumbled +in the sides of it. Hadn't any door that I could see—only two loose +boards—and was mighty poor carpenter work all over. Just a roof and +three sides, the whole thing backed against a pudding-stone ledge that +juts out into Hemlock lake."</p> + +<p>"Had it an occupant?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Three squirrels," answered Dr. Silsby, "investigating a can of corn."</p> + +<p>"Nothing else?"</p> + +<p>"Some old newspapers, a blanket, a stool and a mighty ugly collection of +instruments, I tell you, including this article, which I confiscated."</p> + +<p>He removed a pistol which lay at the bottom of his basket, handling the +specimens as carefully as if they had been wounded kittens.</p> + +<p>"Is it loaded?" asked McCausland, taking it in his hand and unhinging +the butt. The backs of three cartridges stared out from the cylinder.</p> + +<p>"You kept the second bullet, Shagarach, I believe," said McCausland, +removing a cartridge. Shagarach rolled out a flattened bullet from a pen +box in his drawer.</p> + +<p>"Same caliber," said McCausland. "This looks like the pistol that was +aimed at you that evening."</p> + +<p>"So you know peeping Tom, then?" asked Dr. Silsby.</p> + +<p>"Mr. McCausland and I have two of the three bullets that round out his +pistol's complement," answered Shagarach, "and the third is lodged in my +ceiling at home too deep for the probe to reach."</p> + +<p>"I thought the hut had a human atmosphere. There were fresh tracks +around, and the station-master spoke to me about a scoundrel that's been +frightening the country-folks—frightening them by running away from +them, as far as I could see. But you don't suppose he was fern-gathering +down in that swamp, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly," said McCausland. "Could you take us there now?"</p> + +<p>"Now? I've my lecture at Hilo hall—A Study in Ingratitude; or, the +Threatened Extinction of the Great Horned Owl."</p> + +<p>"It is an important piece of evidence in the Floyd case," said +Shagarach, though McCausland still smiled incredulously. "We want the +occupant of that hut."</p> + +<p>"Robert's case. Command me," said Dr. Silsby. "Sorry Mr. Hutman wasn't +at home when I called. I'd have had him here dead or alive."</p> + +<p>"Wolf!" said McCausland. The great dog started up, wagging his tail. +"Smell." He offered him the revolver butt. The hound barked and smelled +his way to the door again, but McCausland pulled him back.</p> + +<p>"It is our man," he said, thrusting the paper-weight in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"My pathfinder, Aronson," said Shagarach, who sprung to his desk.</p> + +<p>"The next train for Woodlawn doesn't leave till 4:03."</p> + +<p>"We can go more quickly by team," said McCausland. "I will have one here +in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>Then he departed with his hound, and Shagarach sent Aronson to announce +at Hilo hall that an imperative summons compelled the defender of the +great horned owl to neglect for once the cause of that calumniated +biped.</p> + +<p>"This is where I left the road," cried Dr. Silsby, an hour later. "A +good, smart journey lies before us."</p> + +<p>"It's uncertain when we'll return," said McCausland to the driver. +"Probably not before 6 at the earliest. You'd better drive home. We'll +take the train into town."</p> + +<p>The driver wheeled his team and drove away, while the party of +three—Shagarach, McCausland and Silsby—crossed a bush-skirted meadow +with the bloodhound still in leash. But they were not destined to +remain long unattended. The curious folk had got wind of their intention +to unearth the peeping Tom, and the sight of an officer in buttons +emboldened many to follow in their wake. Several men offered to help in +the search, and McCausland did not refuse their assistance.</p> + +<p>"The more the merrier," he said, whereupon not only men but women +trailed behind them.</p> + +<p>Among these followers was one young woman, familiar to two of the three +leaders of the party.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Miss Wesner," said Shagarach and McCausland almost +together, and the great inspector was not above entertaining that +somewhat vulgar curiosity many of us feel as to the relationship of any +chance couple we meet. For Miss Wesner was attended by an exceedingly +attentive young man. Courting? Engaged? Married? The question rises as +naturally as a bubble in water. In this case the truth lay midway. What +more natural than that she should spend her afternoon off with Hans +Heidermann at the picnic park in Woodlawn?</p> + +<p>"Now you've left the cheap bombast of the town behind you," said Dr. +Silsby, looking at the great trees as if he would embrace them one and +all. "Isn't this grand? Isn't this Gothic? Pillars, gloom, fretted +roof—don't tell me art's cathedrals are any improvement on nature's."</p> + +<p>The bloodhound interrupted his rhapsody.</p> + +<p>"We may leave Dr. Silsby behind, if he chooses, as well as the town +bombast," said McCausland. "We shall not need his guidance any farther. +Wolf has caught the trail again."</p> + +<p>Two or three times on the march the inspector had held the glass +paper-weight out so that the dog might smell the blood-clot on its edge. +His joyful bark and eager straining at the leash announced that he had +scented the fugitive.</p> + +<p>"Not I," said Dr. Silsby.</p> + +<p>Pulled on by the hound, McCausland and his two companions were soon +trotting far ahead of the plodding laggards behind them. Their talk had +died away. The heart of each was tense. Not a sound broke the mid-forest +silence save the harsh screams of purple jays resenting their intrusion, +and the snapping of twigs and branches.</p> + +<p>"There are the ferns," said Dr. Silsby.</p> + +<p>"Are we near?" asked McCausland.</p> + +<p>"Within a hundred yards, I should say. This is the hemlock grove."</p> + +<p>"Step on the moss. It will deaden our footfalls," said the detective. +"Slow, Wolf, slow!"</p> + +<p>He reined in the impetuous animal as best he could and his companions +crept behind him softly.</p> + +<p>"I see it," whispered Shagarach, pointing through the trees. It was +nearly 5 o'clock and the light was beginning to slant more dimly through +the aisles of the forest. But following his finger, the eye of the +detective made out a rude shelter, sharply distinct by the smoothness of +its boarded walls from the rough bark surfaces around. It seemed to lean +against the steep ledge which Dr. Silsby had described and the roof +derived most of its support from the projecting arms of two great trees +whose roots spread up into the crevices of the rock. Osiers and strong +withes took the place of nails, and the chinks were stopped with moss. +No log cabin or camper's shed was ever more roughly joined. It had every +appearance of being recent and temporary.</p> + +<p>"We must surround it," said McCausland. The loud barking of the hound, +re-echoing in the stillness, had betrayed their presence to the +occupant. Shagarach and Dr. Silsby stationed themselves each at one +side, the former empty-handed, the latter clubbing his stout cane. +McCausland waited for the followers to arrive through the woods, but +most of them hung back at a safe distance, only three or four of the men +coming close to the besiegers.</p> + +<p>"Who is inside there?" asked the detective loudly.</p> + +<p>The silence succeeding his question was intense and prolonged.</p> + +<p>"We have come to take you in the name of the law, and we will take you, +living or dead," said the detective.</p> + +<p>There was no response but the rustling of the leaves. Song-birds were +few in the deep recesses, and these few had been frightened from their +nests. A creeping fear entered the hearts of the ring in the background +and they edged farther away. For the gloom was gathering swiftly. Only +one patch of sky was visible, above the steep ledge, and that lay toward +the darkening east.</p> + +<p>"I prefer that he should be taken alive, if possible," said Shagarach in +a low voice to the detective. The latter gave three strong raps with a +bough on the trunk of a mighty tree, then cried again to the secreted +fugitive:</p> + +<p>"Once more, I will state our errand. We are officers of the law. You are +wanted for the murderous attacks you have made on Meyer Shagarach——"</p> + +<p>A hoarse snarl of rage burst from within the hut, causing some of the +distant spectators to turn in alarm. But it angered the bloodhound, as +the spur a proud horse, and with an answering roar he burst loose +from his leash and sprung at the hut, forcing a loose plank in +with his impetus. Then a sharp tool was seen to descend in the +opening—apparently an adze—and the hound's head sunk under the blow. +He leaped from side to side in agony, and as he ran back whining to his +master the blood dripped into his eyes from a hideous wound that had +bared the bone of the skull. McCausland swore furiously and the +lingering shadow of a smile vanished from his face. He unwound the rope +which he had brought along and secured one circle of a double handcuff +to his left wrist.</p> + +<p>"We'll march home Siamese fashion or my name is Muggins," said the +inspector, between his teeth. Then he began gathering brushwood in a +heap before the hut.</p> + +<p>"What are you at, man?" cried Dr. Silsby.</p> + +<p>"Smoke him out," said McCausland.</p> + +<p>"And fire these woods? Are you crazy?" The botanist was greatly +excited.</p> + +<p>"Confound your woods! Good Wolf! Poor Wolf!" said the inspector, +alternately petting the hound, who, amid all his pain, licked his +master's hand, and throwing fagots on his pyre.</p> + +<p>"But—but—name o' conscience, man," stammered Dr. Silsby. "This is the +finest hemlock grove this side of the White mountains."</p> + +<p>"We could demolish the walls, I think," said Shagarach, "and capture him +with a rush."</p> + +<p>"Where are the axes?" asked McCausland.</p> + +<p>"Poles will do." There were heavy boughs and light saplings lying about, +which would make excellent impromptu crowbars. Without a word Shagarach +seized one of these and wedged it into the crack between two of the +boards. The roar of rage within told them the occupant was watching.</p> + +<p>"Fall to!" said McCausland, scattering his brush-heap with an angry +kick. The three men began prying the boards apart. Several of them +creaked and gave way, and soon nearly the whole front lay in ruins.</p> + +<p>"Surrender!" cried the inspector, pointing his revolver into the +cave-like gloom. There was no reply. The three men peered in, then +entered. The hut was empty!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<h3>THE SECRET OF THE POOL.</h3> + + + +<p>Suddenly a shout from the onlookers behind called them back to the +breach.</p> + +<p>"The roof!" they cried. "He is climbing out by the roof!"</p> + +<p>McCausland and Silsby stepped back to see the top of the hut, while +Shagarach rushed in once more and reached at the ceiling with his bough.</p> + +<p>There on the top of the hut, his body half emerging where the planks had +been shoved aside, McCausland for the first time saw the long-missing +oaf, and Dr. Silsby his peeping Tom. But Shagarach was groping within, +vainly smashing upward in the darkness.</p> + +<p>With wonderful strength the fugitive raised himself erect, sprung from +the insecure footing of the slippery boards, and began clambering up the +ledge.</p> + +<p>"After him, Wolf!" cried McCausland, and the bloodhound, nerved by his +tones, tore up the ledge in the monster's wake. McCausland and Silsby +clambered as best they could on all fours, and presently Shagarach, +hearing the outcry, followed them. The crack of the inspector's revolver +was heard once, but the fugitive had turned like lightning and hurled +his adze. McCausland uttered a sharp cry as the pistol was struck from +his hand. The fugitive then stood for a moment on the crest, twenty feet +above them, outlined in hideous distinctness against the pale patch of +sky. But, espying the hound at his heels, he had given a mad plunge, and +the onlookers, who had drawn nearer, heard a heavy splash behind the +ledge. The bloodhound paused at the summit.</p> + +<p>"After him, Wolf!" urged McCausland, and the dog's plunge was heard, as +heavy as the man's.</p> + +<p>"It is a pool," said Shagarach, gazing into the black water below him.</p> + +<p>"Hemlock lake," answered Dr. Silsby. "The land beyond it is marshy for +miles."</p> + +<p>"And no boat?" asked McCausland.</p> + +<p>"One at the upper end, a mile or so, kept by a farmer."</p> + +<p>"Then it all depends upon Wolf," muttered the detective. The water side +of the precipice afforded no stair for descent, and the party slowly +picked its way down the ledge which it had climbed, and made a circuit, +so as to stand on the grassy edge of the pool.</p> + +<p>"Wolf!" cried McCausland. The dark heads of man and dog had long +vanished from sight. No answer came but the night sighing of the trees +that fringed the dark lake. A pale quarter-moon arose in the open sky +and lent a translucent gloss to its opaque surface. The swallows +twittered high in air, reduced to the size of a bee-swarm. But the lake +gave back no tale of the two that had entered it.</p> + +<p>"Wolf!" cried McCausland, again and again. He whistled till the woods +echoed. He clapped his hands with a hollow reverberation. A plash close +by startled the listeners. But it was only a pickerel rising to his food +or a bullfrog plunging in. Again the mysterious terror invaded the +hearts of the pursuers, and the women clung nearer to the men, clutching +their bosoms.</p> + +<p>Had man and dog reached the other side in safety, there to continue +their terrible race? Had they fought their death struggle in the water, +and one or both of them sunk to his doom? Who could tell? The lake +guarded its secret.</p> + +<p>"It is dark," said Shagarach, but McCausland lingered on the bank, +shading his eyes with his right hand. In his left the empty handcuff +clanked.</p> + +<p>"We have failed," said Dr. Silsby. Then McCausland started with a jerk.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," he said. "To-morrow may tell."</p> + +<p>"The way back will be hard to find," said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Light these," said Dr. Silsby, cutting a pitch-pine bough. It blazed up +almost at the touch of a match, and as the others followed his example +the forest was strangely illuminated, weird shadows playing about the +party. One coming upon them might have taken them for some brigand band +en route to their mountains with plunder.</p> + +<p>"We'll miss the guidance of the hound going home," said Shagarach, and +the women shuddered at the prospect of being lost in the forest at +nightfall. It was an unfrequented place. But there were boys present +whose holiday ramblings might now be turned to good account.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we shall miss Wolf," said McCausland, looking behind him, as if +still hoping for a signal from his faithful hound.</p> + +<p>"Let us explore the hut," proposed Shagarach, entering.</p> + +<p>"And tear it to pieces," cried Dr. Silsby.</p> + +<p>Instantly the roof was torn from the rude pile, and its remaining +timbers, hardly more than rested on end, almost fell asunder of +themselves. A strange heap was revealed by the flickering torches. A +stool, a sheet of tin laid over a clam-bake oven, some cans of prepared +food, half-empty, an old coat, a blanket and a collection of knives, +spikes and other weapons, picked up or stolen, that would have made a +formidable array in the belt of a pirate. One of the lads, who had +lighted a dry rush for a torch, was about to touch off the newspapers +that lay about in great profusion, when McCausland sharply checked him.</p> + +<p>"Bundle those up," he said, and the boys obeyed, while the inspector +curiously scanned one of them by Dr. Silsby's torch.</p> + +<p>"I thought so," he cried in triumph, motioning to Shagarach. "This is +dated, like the others, only two days back—a New York paper again. +The——" he pointed to the name. "He knew where to look for sensations, +you see."</p> + +<p>"A vitriol-throwing case?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Read it for yourself," said the detective.</p> + +<p>"At my leisure. We may as well start."</p> + +<p>"Has any one a compass?" asked McCausland.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," replied Dr. Silsby. "Do I need a compass with the flora to +guide me? There is the fern bed ahead of us, and, by the way, I think +I'll gather a few more specimens."</p> + +<p>"Not now, doctor," remonstrated Shagarach, and the frightened women +echoed him.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut," said the botanist. "Have I slept out o' night in the woods +since I was so high to be frightened by a little miscalculation of time? +Who asked you to come?" he said to the followers, and the coolness with +which he rooted up several ferns actually reassured his timid +companions. "I'll take your newspapers to wrap them in," said he to one +of the boys, but McCausland interposed.</p> + +<p>"Something else, doctor."</p> + +<p>"My hands, then," said the botanist, cheerfully. And in fact he guided +them out by his trained remembrance of the vegetation he had passed +almost as quickly and surely as the hound had led them in by his scent.</p> + +<p>It was then Miss Senda Wesner proved to Shagarach that for all her +reputation as a chatterbox she could be prudent on occasion. For she +selected a moment when Shagarach was bringing up the rear, to slip off +the arms of her escort and pluck the lawyer's sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who he was, Mr. Shagarach?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"The crazy man, I saw him plainly on the top of the rock. It was the +peddler in the green cart that used to come to Prof. Arnold's."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<h3>AN OLD SINGING SOLDIER.</h3> + + +<p>"What will remind me of the summer while you are away, dear?" Robert had +said to Emily one morning, little thinking that the sweet girl would +treasure the saying for a whole day and end with a pitiful accusation to +herself of "selfishness" for leaving him. Could she have consulted her +own wish she would have put off the excursion then and there, but a +stateroom had already been booked in the Yarmouth, Beulah Ware was +looking forward joyfully to the trip and Dr. Eustis' orders had been +imperative. So good Mrs. Barlow sensibly stamped her foot at the notion +of her daughter's withdrawal and the maternal fiat went forth finally +and irrevocably that Emily must go.</p> + +<p>But Emily determined that while she was away the bare cell in murderers' +row should not wholly lack touches of the midsummer of whose passing +glories Robert, their loyal votary, was cruelly denied a glimpse.</p> + +<p>And so one day the carpenter came and plotted off a space over a foot +wide at the side of the cell, and the florist followed with a load of +beautiful long sods rolled up like jelly cake, and little potted plants +all in bloom. And the sods were laid down in the trough the carpenter +had made, and places scooped out with a trowel for the roots of the +plants, and presto, there was a flower bed all along the side that got +the sunshine, for Robert's window faced toward the south.</p> + +<p>There were twiggy verbenas and fuchsias of tropic coloring, the +nappy-leaved rose geranium, less highly rouged than its scarlet-flowered +sisters, and blue oxalis along the border, plaintively appealing for +notice with its spray of tiny stars. And lest these should not insinuate +the odor of the country sufficiently into Robert's senses a pot of sweet +basil was suspended from the ceiling to give out fragrance like the live +coal in an acolyte's censer. Robert had complained of sleeplessness. +What was better for this than a pillow stuffed with prunings of a +fir-balsam at night and a sweet-clover cushion by day, when he sat at +his table and wrote down his thoughts on "The Parisian Police Theory of +Concentration of Crime," or some other such momentous topic.</p> + +<p>But the last day, when the finishing touch had been placed on this +narrow bower, over which the shadow of the scaffold so imminently hung, +while Emily was sprinkling the beds with her watering-jar, Robert had +laid aside his pen and was drawing forth sweet music from the violin.</p> + +<p>"How divine it will be, Emily," he said. "The ocean sail and the week at +beautiful Digby!"</p> + +<p>"I wish you were coming, Robert," she answered, sadly.</p> + +<p>"We may arrange a voyage in September. That is the month of glory in the +provinces."</p> + +<p>Robert had never admitted entertaining a doubt as to his acquittal. It +must have been the confinement and the ignominy that had worn him down +and converted his nights into carnivals of restless thought.</p> + +<p>"But I will be with you in imagination," he added, while Emily silently +poured the fine spouting streams over thirsty leaf and flower. Poor +little green prisoners! They, too, would miss the air and the sunshine +and, perhaps, would reproach her, when she returned, with wilted stalks +and withering petals.</p> + +<p>While she hung her head a far-away voice stole over the high jailyard +wall, through the narrow cell window, into the lover's ears. It was a +tenor voice, not without reminiscences of bygone sweetness, though worn, +and still powerful as if from incessant use. Something in its tones told +the listeners that it was no common youth of the city trolling a snatch. +For when do such sing, except in derision of song, with grating irony +that is ashamed of the feelings to which true song gives expression? We +are ashamed of our best impulses and proud of our worst, we cynical city +folk! But this was a street singer, a minstrel, musical and sincere. +Straining their attention, the lovers caught here and there the import +of this ballad. Or was it a ballad repeated by rote? Was it not rather a +recitative improvised as the impulse came, both words and music?</p> + +<p>He sang of the southward march of armed battalions. Their ranks were +full, their banners untattered, and the men shouted watchwords of joy +when they beheld the battle-ground before them. A great chieftain stood +mounted and motioned them into place with his brandished sword. Grant! +Grim Grant! They echoed his name. Then came the thunder of artillery +from distant hills, and the lines of the enemy's rifles were seen +glistening as they advanced. The defenders did not linger, but rushed +forward to meet them and their embrace was the death-lock of Titans. +Hurrah, the chivalry of the south give way! It is cavalry Sheridan who +routs them! Then the sun stood at its meridian. It was the noon of all +glory, for the northern crusaders, doing battle in the just cause. Oh, +the chase, the rallies, the heroic stands, and the joyful return, with +plunder! But the corpse-strewn field checked their paean. Sire and son +lay clasped in death, facing each other. The garb of one was gray, of +the other blue. Ambulances issued empty from the hospital tents, and +rode back groaning with the wounded. Nurses knelt with water cups at the +dying hero's side. And until night closed over, sorrow mingled with joy +in that bivouac by the fresh-fought field.</p> + +<p>A loud salvo of applause told that the singer was done. Emily could see +in her mind's eye the ring at the sidewalk edge, arrested in the course +of meaner thoughts or idle vacuity by his heart-moving story. The gift +of Homer, in a humble degree, was his; and men to-day are not unlike +what they were 3,000 years ago. Robert had long since hushed his violin +and stood with bow suspended in air.</p> + +<p>"Emily!" he said in a strange tone.</p> + +<p>She looked at him and started. He was eying her so eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Emily!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>The bow dropped from his hand. He reached forward as if he would touch +her.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Robert?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"The water-lily. You are still wearing it?"</p> + +<p>"Still wearing it, Robert. I put it on this morning."</p> + +<p>Robert uttered a cry.</p> + +<p>"It comes back! It comes back!" he said. "The old singing soldier that I +met at the park gate. He is blind and wears a brown shade over one eye. +His hair is white when he takes off his cap and passes among the crowd. +I see him again! I see it all!"</p> + +<p>Robert's gaze was far away. He was not looking at Emily, yet he heard +her voice.</p> + +<p>"When was this all, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"That day, the day of the fire. I could not remember before."</p> + +<p>She repressed a throb of joy. Was it indeed returning? God was good. He +had at last answered her prayers.</p> + +<p>"And the water-lily, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"Do you not remember, Emily, that I brought you one that evening? It was +the first of the season, I told you."</p> + +<p>"I do—I do!"</p> + +<p>"Search out the old gardener, who lives in the lodge at the west angle +of the park. He will remember. 'This is the first of the season,' he +said. He will remember the date. He will have kept some memorandum."</p> + +<p>"And you talked with him, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"We are friends of old. He will remember the incident—our stroll into +the glen where the little pond glistens, my noting the one white flower +floating among the pads, our poling the flat-bottomed boat from the bank +and the courteous speech of presentation he made. 'For your sweetheart,' +he said. Oh, it is as plain to me now as the sound of my own voice, +Emily. How could I ever have forgotten?"</p> + +<p>"It is Providence who sent us the old singing soldier," said Emily. "Let +us thank Him for His mercy."</p> + +<p>Then Robert ran over detail after detail of that afternoon, when he +rambled from the house, burdened with the fresh grief of his uncle's +death—seeing little, hearing little, mechanically following a familiar +route, all his outer senses muffled, as it were. The great shock of the +calamity when he came home late at night had canceled even the feeble +impressions that lingered, and not till the voice of the old singing +soldier came to his ears once more was the impediment removed.</p> + +<p>Now the events rushed upon him, few in number, but clearly, +microscopically outlined. The sight of the lily brought up the image of +the gardener. He could no longer be suspected of hiding himself after +the fire or of secret escape with confederates, or of other conduct that +might require concealment and a mask of affected forgetfulness.</p> + +<p>"The last link of his chain is broken," said Emily, joyfully, meaning, +no doubt, the great inspector's. This happy turn of affairs reconciled +her more than anything else to her vacation trip, and it was a gladsome +farewell the sweethearts took that day.</p> + +<p>On her way through the city she heard again the chant of the old singing +soldier and a gush of gratitude impelled her to follow him. He was +indeed blind and wore the brown shade as Robert had described. A little +girl clung to his coat and guided him when he walked, and the cap he +held out bore the initials of the Grand Army and was ribboned with +silver cord. The bystanders stared at the sweet-faced lady who laid a +bill in the maiden's hand and hurried off without waiting for her "Thank +you," hurried off to acquaint Shagarach of the glad, good news.</p> + +<p>It was not until she reached the upper flight of the office stairs that +she remembered that it was Shagarach's suggestion that she wear a +pond-lily now and then so as to start if possible the clogged wheels of +her lover's recollection, as we shake a stopped watch to make it go.</p> + +<p>There was a similar case, too, in "The Diseases of Memory."</p> + +<p>"But it was heaven," she said, "that brought us the old singing +soldier."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE OCEAN NIGHT.</h3> + + +<p>"Tristram!"</p> + +<p>The artist started at his sister's voice. He had been lounging over the +steamer's side watching a full-rigged ship in the offing. Its majestic +sails glistened as white as snow, but the heaving motion from bow to +stern was apparent even at that distance. For the sea was all hills and +hollows, and the Yarmouth herself lay darkened under the shadow of a +cloud.</p> + +<p>"Let me break in on your reverie. This is my brother—Miss Barlow—Miss +Ware."</p> + +<p>"We shall have a storm," said Tristram, after the formalities.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not," cried all three ladies. They had become acquainted +while watching the patent log on the saloon-deck stern, which Beulah +Ware, who knew almost everything, had explained for Rosalie's +information.</p> + +<p>"It was due when we started," said Tristram.</p> + +<p>"And you never told me," cried Rosalie.</p> + +<p>"You would have postponed the trip, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Make everything tight," came the cheery voice of the captain. "Get your +wraps on, ladies. It's going to pour in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Do let us remain outside," cried Beulah. "I've nothing on that will +spoil, under a waterproof."</p> + +<p>The others assented, and Tristram and Beulah disappeared for a few +moments, returning with mackintoshes and rubber cloaks.</p> + +<p>"There, you look like fisher folk," said Tristram, when the ladies had +pulled the cowls of their glazed garments over their heads.</p> + +<p>"And romantic for the first time, I suppose," said Rosalie. "Tristram is +a great stickler for barbarism, you know."</p> + +<p>"Esthetically," said Tristram.</p> + +<p>"He has positive ideas."</p> + +<p>"Of negative value."</p> + +<p>The rain had begun to spatter the deck beneath them and the cool wind +was working its own will with their garments. They were almost alone on +the quarter-deck. An officer eyed them loftily.</p> + +<p>"That is the first mate," said Tristram.</p> + +<p>"How can you tell?" asked Rosalie.</p> + +<p>"Because he is so far off. The captain is always approachable. The first +mate is rather distant, the second mate more so. The third mate is +rarely visible to the naked eye."</p> + +<p>"Hear that bell," cried Emily.</p> + +<p>A ding-dong clangor resounded through the ship.</p> + +<p>"Supper! All hands to supper!" piped the steward. "Early supper! +Captain's orders! Early supper!"</p> + +<p>"Hang the captain's orders!" said Tristram. "This is better than +supper."</p> + +<p>But the foamy crest of a great wave that was level with the bow was +caught just then by the wind and hurled up in their faces. The ladies +sputtered, drenched with the spray, and the water seethed at their feet. +Of course they shrieked and there was nothing for it but to descend and +repair to their staterooms to prepare for the supper.</p> + +<p>The dishes were clattering and dancing like marionettes. Capt. Keen had +acted wisely in ordering an early supper. If the sea increased it would +soon be impossible to eat at all.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this superb?" cried the enthusiast again, as the vessel +perceptibly rose under them, but she fell so suddenly that he probably +bit his tongue. At least for a moment his eloquence abated.</p> + +<p>"Now to go above again," he said when at last the tipping of the dishes +made satisfactory eating no longer possible. "What a rare quality +portability is! The portable arts—music and poetry; the portable +instruments—fiddles, flutes, etc.; the portable eatables (excuse the +unhappy jingle)—oranges, bananas, biscuits."</p> + +<p>Suiting the word to the action, he laid in a liberal supply himself and +pressed as much more on each of the ladies. He was not so unpractical as +he seemed, our friend Tristram, with all his badinage and transparent +sophistries.</p> + +<p>"But you are not seriously going out on deck?" cried his sister in some +alarm, when he made for the stairs.</p> + +<p>"And surely you are not going to remain in?" answered Tristram in +feigned astonishment. "Lose this glorious sea picture? Atmosphere, +nature's own murk; canvas, infinity; music furnished by old Boreas +himself, master of Beethoven and Rubinstein; accompaniments, night, +sleet, danger and the lightning."</p> + +<p>"I fear we are philistines," said Beulah Ware; "we prefer painted storms +and the mimic thunders of the symphony."</p> + +<p>"Accompaniment, dry dresses," added Rosalie. Whereupon Tristram +gallantly saw the ladies housed in his sister's cabin and left them, +lunching on his portable eatables, but not a little anxious while he +himself climbed up to his perch on the quarter-deck. The sea tumbled +over the steamer when she cut her way into a billow, but Tristram had +drawn on thick boots and felt prepared to rough it.</p> + +<p>"Better lash yourself down," cried the captain warningly. The artist's +answer was lost in the tempest.</p> + +<p>There was little sleep for the passengers on the Yarmouth that night. +Stewards and matrons passed about reassuring them. The boat was +seaworthy; everything was locked in; they could lie on their pillows +with an absolute certainty of rising on the morrow with the Nova Scotia +shore in view. Only they wouldn't. They dared not. And as Rosalie looked +as timid as any one, her new acquaintances conspired to remain with her +in her stateroom, all three sharing the two cots and getting what naps +they could.</p> + +<p>They had run out of talk and were almost drowsing when the great crash +came. Have you felt your heart jump when a pistol-shot smites the +silence? No crack of land ordnance could inspire the fear that +resounding bump did in the breasts of the apprehensive girls.</p> + +<p>"A rock!" was the thought of each, but they only expressed their terror +in an inarticulate shriek. Then the whimpering of women and the cries of +men were heard in the saloon.</p> + +<p>"We are sinking!" cried some one, and the girls rushed out. A hundred +white-clad forms darted to and fro like gnats in a swarm, or clung +together, wringing their hands in misery. Some of the men fought to +unbar the doors. But they were bolted from the outside. The whole cabin +was penned in there to drown. Then each one felt for his dearest.</p> + +<p>"Tristram!" moaned Rosalie, knocking at his stateroom door. "Tristram!" +But there came no answer. "He is out on the deck! He is swept away and +drowned!" she cried, with truer tears than the imagined sorrows of +Desdemona had ever drawn from her eyes. But Tristram was safe in the +pilot's box, where Capt. Keen was signaling the engineer to reverse his +engines; and the engineer, shut in amid the deafening clangor of his +machinery, ignorant of what had happened but trained to his duty, obeyed +promptly his bell and forced the great vessel back.</p> + +<p>The headlights of the Yarmouth had been doused out long before, and +there was no lantern that could live in that surge, even if it were +possible to hang a second one aloft From time to time the captain had +ordered a rocket sent up, to warn approaching vessels, for the air was +densely opaque. Only out of the gloom before them, just before the shock +came, Tristram could see a long row of lights, feeble and flickering. +His imagination constructed the broadside of a steamship about them and +once it seemed that he really did catch a vague, shadowy outline. But +the reality became certain to another sense. Before the Yarmouth's +engines were reversed and her bow disengaged itself, a wail of terror +reached him out of the night, and a tearing as of parted timbers. Then +hoarse shouts were heard from the emptiness soaring high above the wind.</p> + +<p>"We stove in her side," said the captain. Then a signal rocket, hissing +into the quenching rain, told him of his fellow's distress. The Yarmouth +still receded. The double row of lights was withdrawn into the gloom. +But the wailing increased and from the covered cabin below rose the +responsive clamor of the passengers.</p> + +<p>"Say that we have struck a vessel," telephoned the captain to the +steward. After several repetitions the message was understood and it +quieted the half-clad throng a little. But anxiety was legible on every +face.</p> + +<p>Twice more the signal of distress went up and the captain answered it, +though helpless to assist. Then the air was blank.</p> + +<p>"Head her east," said the captain to the pilot. He knew by the lights +that the other vessel was pointed to the larboard when she crossed his +bow. He could not back forever or heave to in that sea. He must +circumnavigate the vessel or the vortex if she were sunk. So he nosed +his prow oceanward into the teeth of the wind. Under these +circumstances the headway of his boat was slow.</p> + +<p>"Ahoy!"</p> + +<p>Was it a voice from the darkness? A huge wave rose over them like a +cliff and hurled itself against the strong glass of the pilot's window. +In a moment they were soused and the wind blowing in upon them told them +that their brittle sheath was shattered. But the electric globes still +cast their white gleams over the foredeck and revealed a dark object +that was not there before.</p> + +<p>"A boat!" cried Tristram.</p> + +<p>"Save them!" shouted Capt. Keen, rushing down the steps, with the artist +at his heels. It was indeed a lifeboat, which had been carried on the +crest of a billow clear over the Yarmouth's gunwale and left high, if +not dry. Only five forms could be seen—three of them stirring, the +other two motionless. All were men.</p> + +<p>"Climb!" shouted Keen, seizing one of the limp bodies in his arms. +Tristram caught up the other and staggered back in the direction of the +light, the three wrecked men following and grappling at them in their +bewilderment. Another wave like the last and they were lost, all seven. +But these great surges come in rhythmic intervals. Rescuers and rescued +reached the pilot house in safety.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, shipmates?" asked the captain, pouring brandy down the +mouths of the unconscious men. The others answered in German.</p> + +<p>"The Hamburg liner, Osric," translated Tristram. "She broke her rudder +and was driven off her course by the gale."</p> + +<p>"Heaven save us from meeting any more such driftwood," said the pilot +unsteadily with a hiccough.</p> + +<p>"Were any other boats out?" asked Capt. Keen. Tristram interpreted +question and answer.</p> + +<p>"Two others, but they were swamped. All on board are lost."</p> + +<p>A thrill went through the strong men. Usage does not render sailors +callous to the perils of the sea. Death under the ocean is still the +most awe-inspiring of fates—the doom of the irrecoverable body, of the +skeleton lying on the bottom, like a coral freak.</p> + +<p>"Mostly immigrants from Germany and Sweden," answered the spokesman to +the next question. All five were common sailors. They had waited their +turn and the captain had ordered them into the lifeboat when it came. He +himself had stood by his sinking ship to the end.</p> + +<p>In a lull of the breaking seas, Tristram and Capt. Keen picked their way +down into the cabin. The captain's appearance was a signal for a cheer. +He addressed the passengers briefly, outlined the terrible event and +assured them that, as lightning never strikes twice in the same spot, +they might turn in and count on a clear voyage oceanward for the rest of +the night. He could not control the weather or promise them sleep. But +he felt so safe himself that he had just come down to retire for his own +spell of slumber.</p> + +<p>This little lie was one of those which the recording angel will blot +away with tears. The old salt would no more have slept that night than +he would have taken a dose of poison. Even for the few minutes he was +below he had been as uneasy within as a young mother when she sees her +baby in the arms of some one whose carelessness she has good reason to +dread. The pilot was in liquor, and Capt. Keen, making a quick tour aft +so that every one might get a view of him and a cheery word, together +with a brazen repetition of his salutary invention, simply turned into +the cook's room forward and swung himself out by its skylight-hatch. +Meanwhile Tristram elbowed his way through the crowd to Rosalie. His +reappearance soothed her, but she was still hysterical, and the good +offices of the other two ladies were found seasonable during the night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + +<h3>ON DIGBY SHORE.</h3> + + +<p>Daylight rose, gray and hollow-eyed, on the Atlantic. The sun was merely +a moving brightness in the sky. Ocean, the blind Titan, still heaved and +roared, playing his part in some grander drama than ours of flesh and +blood—ingulfing sailor or bark as we crush the poor gnat toward whom +neither pagan sage nor Christian doctor enjoins mercy—cruel without +enmity, indifferent without contempt, divider or uniter of continents +according to his chance-born mood.</p> + +<p>The storm had scarcely begun to die. But with a clear outlook forward it +was possible once more for the sturdy Yarmouth to resume her course. +With Capt Keen himself at the wheel, she steamed into the narrow harbor +of the little city whose name she bore, situated on the nearest eastward +tip of the Nova Scotia peninsula, half a day late, but with her 300 +passengers safe and sound.</p> + +<p>Several days later, our party of four were peacefully rowing across the +calm waters of Digby bay—that isleless harbor of purest ultramarine, +where the Bay of Fundy has cloven its way through peaks still wooded to +the water's edge and lifts and lowers its huge tides as far north as +Annapolis, at the head of the valley of Evangeline. Chance would have +it that this resort was the destination of the Marches as well as +Emily and Beulah; and the acquaintance made on shipboard under such +unusual circumstances was already ripening into something like +friendship—perhaps more than friendship—between Tristram and Beulah +Ware.</p> + +<p>She was his opposite, his complementary color, as he said to Rosalie, +and so she harmonized with him and perhaps comprehended him, as Rosalie +at times did not. In only one thing did she agree with Tristram's +sister. She misunderstood his irony; for her own speech was yea, yea.</p> + +<p>"Let us cross over to the camp of the Micmacs," proposed the artist, +resting on his oars.</p> + +<p>"Are they real Indians?" asked Emily.</p> + +<p>"Full-blooded. See their tepees." A cluster of conical tents could be +seen rising from the dark foliage on the hillside. For Digby rises from +the water with a slope like a toboggan slide all the way up to the white +cottages on its crest.</p> + +<p>"There is a specimen," said Tristram, as a canoe skimmed by them. "Isn't +he noble? The great face, the grim mouth, the high cheek-bones, the +straight hair—it is a bronze mask of Saturn. I may utilize him."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"When I carve my life group for the Academy's grand prize."</p> + +<p>"Have you chosen your subject?"</p> + +<p>"Driftwood Pickers at the Sea Level."</p> + +<p>Beulah Ware looked up. She had suggested it the day before, while +strolling alone with the man of hazy purposes.</p> + +<p>The boat was beached without difficulty and the ladies stepped +ashore—Beulah Ware collectedly, as usual, but Emily and Rosalie as +warily as you may have seen a lame pigeon alighting.</p> + +<p>"Let us follow my leader," said Tristram, meaning the brown canoeist, +who had shouldered his craft and was climbing the beach.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" cried Emily, pointing to an object that was tossing on +the sands.</p> + +<p>"A body," said the others, recoiling, but Tristram walked in the +direction indicated. It proved on closer inspection to be the body of a +woman, stout and tall. Her long yellow hair floated in the surf, but the +features were swollen beyond recognition. It was impossible to tell +whether she was old or young. Only her clothing, which was thick and of +foreign style, denoted a woman of the poorer class.</p> + +<p>"Is it a body?" asked Rosalie, apparently doubting the evidence of her +eyes. The quick assemblage of a crowd rendered an answer unnecessary. +There were men and women watching all along the Nova Scotia coast in +those weary days. Schooners and smacks had put out before the storm, +perhaps to be blown far out of their course and suffer the hardships of +hunger and shipwreck, perhaps to founder in midocean and never to +return. So the body rolling in the surf at the water's edge had been +espied by others before the party of four landed, and there was a +converging stream of searchers from bush and cottage, and even from the +lonely tepees.</p> + +<p>"Search her pockets," said one, and the woman's dress was torn open. A +packet of papers came out, but the ink had run and the paper was as soft +as jelly.</p> + +<p>"She has been in the water a week," cried another.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is a body from the Osric," suggested a boy.</p> + +<p>The party of four shrunk in greater horror. There were rumors of +lifeboats that had been launched and swamped from the sunken steamer. +Could one of the bodies have been carried up the Bay of Fundy on its +swift-running tide, forced by a current through Digby Gut, and cast +ashore on this unfrequented beach?</p> + +<p>"See if her linen is marked?" asked a woman who held a baby. But the +search proved fruitless. No stenciled initials, not even a brand on the +shoes, to identify the unfortunate. A truck was suggested to carry her +up to the town.</p> + +<p>"One moment," said Tristram, "her ring may be engraved."</p> + +<p>The slender gold circlet was deeply imbedded in the flesh, but a +fisherman ruthlessly cut it loose with his knife. Tristram held it up to +the light and read a name from the inside.</p> + +<p>"Bertha Lund," he read.</p> + +<p>Emily Barlow turned pale and glanced at Beulah Ware. If she could have +looked across the ocean to the city just then and seen Inspector +McCausland closeted with the district attorney, she would have been +confirmed in her fears. The detective was scanning a list of the +passengers on the Osric.</p> + +<p>"Bertha Lund, Upsala, Sweden. That is her birthplace. She was to return +on the Osric," he said, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Then it must be she," answered the district attorney. "It is most +unfortunate. However, we have her testimony at the hearing. We do not +rely solely upon her."</p> + +<p>But Emily did rely solely upon Bertha's knowledge, and her heart sunk +within her. Without Bertha, there was only Robert to describe the room +as she wished it described. And would people believe Robert in so novel, +so miraculous, a junction of circumstances as her theory demanded?</p> + +<p>"Read that again, please," she cried to Tristram.</p> + +<p>"Bertha Lund," Tristram seemed puzzled a moment by the third word, +"Bertha Lund, Upsala."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + +<h3>TURNPIKE TOLL.</h3> + + +<p>"So to-morrow is the day of the trial, Miss Barlow?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Riley was pinning the bandage on Walter's neck, while Emily +buttoned his jacket. She and the quondam Whistler had become fast +friends, especially since the day of the struggle in Shagarach's office, +and now that his burns were healing and he was able to get out they had +arranged a Sunday afternoon excursion to Hemlock grove, with some vague +hope of visiting the site of the demolished hut, if Walter's strength +could carry him so far. There would be no lack of guides, for the spot +had already become locally famous.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Emily, "the talesmen have been sifted down to twelve at +last."</p> + +<p>"May the good Lord put mercy in their hearts," prayed Mrs. Riley.</p> + +<p>"I wish it was a jury of ladies," said Walter.</p> + +<p>"Why, ladies are never selected for the jury," cried his mother.</p> + +<p>"Jurywomen is a word not yet included in the dictionaries," smiled +Emily.</p> + +<p>"But they are all so kind," said Walter simply, but in such a way that +his mother and Emily might each take half of the compliment. The bright +slum boy was already losing all trace of his plebeian associations, as +the innate aristocracy of his nature asserted itself. How luckily he was +placed, if he could have foreseen. To begin at the lower-most round of +the ladder, but with the unconquerable instinct in him to climb; and so +at last, on the topmost round, to have the whole of life for a +retrospect.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Riley bade them a proud good-by and watched them from her window +boarding the car. The down-town ride on a Sunday is always curious, for +the desertion of the usually crowded streets gives them a foreign +appearance. Emily was commenting on this when Walter called her +attention to something in the sky.</p> + +<p>"Look, it's a man," he said, pointing almost vertically upward.</p> + +<p>"Where?" she asked, leaning forward.</p> + +<p>"On the top of the Amory building. He is calling for help."</p> + +<p>The Amory building was the tallest structure in the city, the tenants in +the sixteenth story enjoying a view that swept in the entire harbor and +flattened the men walking in the avenues below to the dimensions of +crawling flies.</p> + +<p>"We can change cars here, Walter. Let us get off and see."</p> + +<p>From the sidewalk Emily could distinguish the minute figure of a man +leaning over the parapet around the roof, and shouting through his hands +to attract attention.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is on fire," she said in alarm, framing the thought that lay +uppermost in her mind.</p> + +<p>"I think he wants to get down," suggested Walter, although not a word +of the man's vociferations could be heard.</p> + +<p>"Let us speak to the policeman," said Emily, just as a large hat came +sailing down on Walter's head. It crossed her mind that the broad brim +had a familiar look. The patrolman followed her index finger with his +glance and presently there was a knot of passers-by doing likewise. Then +the knot grew to a crowd, and the crowd to a multitude. Meanwhile the +officer had hunted up the janitor of the building and both entered +through the great carved doors. About five minutes later they came down, +with a heavily laden, portly gentleman, who seemed taken aback when the +crowd hurrahed him.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Silsby!" cried Emily. He looked about in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Miss Barlow," he said, shaking his head, "here's a to-do. I suppose +you'll go right over and tell that Rob."</p> + +<p>"Tell him what?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him I got lost in the heart of the city I was born in," grumbled +the botanist so that she could hardly help laughing. "Well, what are you +sniggling at?" he shouted at the crowd, who fell back a little at this.</p> + +<p>"And were you lost up there?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't had a bite to eat since yesterday noon. Made a call on that +ninny, Hodgkins, about his confounded will. Judge is going to decide +against him and we'll have our academia after all."</p> + +<p>"Good! Good!" cried Emily, clapping her hands.</p> + +<p>"Office on the sixteenth floor. Ninny was out. Took my specimens up to +the roof. Got worked up. Scribbled notes for my new lecture on——"</p> + +<p>"I know. Rob told me. On the beneficent activity of the great horned +owl. How interesting!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Silsby glared.</p> + +<p>"Janitor missed me. Didn't notice the time. Locked out. Slept four hours +all night, and now I'm hoarse from bawling ten. What's the matter with +Sleepy Hollow? Are they all in bed?"</p> + +<p>"Why, this is Sunday morning," explained Emily, repressing her +merriment.</p> + +<p>"They ought to have ladders up there, so a man could climb down," +grumbled Dr. Silsby.</p> + +<p>Walter thought this a somewhat unreasonable demand.</p> + +<p>"You might have descended by the mail chute," said Emily, laughing +outright, "and then the postman would have collected you just before +breakfast."</p> + +<p>The learned doctor made no reply, so they left him shuffling away in +search of a restaurant.</p> + +<p>"I do hope Judge Dunder will allow the will," she said; and it took the +whole ride to explain the why of this hope to her eager auditor.</p> + +<p>At Woodlawn they were directed to Hemlock grove and wandered among its +dark trees, peace-breathing in themselves, but haunted for them by the +vague pervasive shadow of a tragedy. The hut was too far for Walter's +strength, so they turned off at an angle, following a footpath which +they knew would lead to some road. Once or twice they heard a murmur of +voices, seeming to come from the left. It was very deep and indistinct +and not unlike the mooing of a cow. But her bell would have tinkled if +it had really been a stray tenant of the milk-shed.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Walter?" asked Emily. It had sounded again, this time more +humanly and close to their ears. They had been moving toward it +unawares.</p> + +<p>Walter only clutched her arm in answer.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he said, and she saw his eyes white with distension of the lids. +"It is the oaf."</p> + +<p>Through a parting in the boughs Emily saw the sight. There was a little +cemetery near by, unpretending but neat with scattered headstones. In +the midst of it, kneeling with his forehead bared and his eyes +up-lifted, was the human monster who had woven himself into their life +so terribly. What was he doing? Should she run? Her first impulse was to +fly, but a fascination held her. The oaf's face was averted and they +were screened from his gaze.</p> + +<p>Looked at now, the creature's countenance was less repulsive than she +had thought. Emily had only seen it convulsed with murderous passion, +and those who had described it to her had beheld it under similar +circumstances. Yet at best it was horribly misshapen.</p> + +<p>"Is he crying?" asked Walter. Strange to say, the oaf seemed to be +shedding tears and the quick sympathy went out from Emily's bosom, in +spite of the past.</p> + +<p>"Hark!"</p> + +<p>Emily pulled Walter back, as he leaned forward too eagerly to catch what +he was saying.</p> + +<p>The oaf moaned in a guttural tone that swelled to its close, crescendo. +Then he threw himself on the mound before which he knelt.</p> + +<p>It was a grave. No headstone covered it. The mourners of the dead who +house there were either forgetful or poor. But strange little bunches of +withered wild flowers were strewn upon it. And a heap of fresher flowers +lay at one side. What was the monster doing?</p> + +<p>With his fingers he scooped out hollows in the earth, then lifted the +cut daisies and buttercups he had brought, with many a late violet and +honeysuckle, and laid their stalks one by one in the cavities. Holding +them in place, he propped them up with the loosened earth, till all +along the narrow mound there was a bloom of red and yellow and blue. +Then the oaf rose and looked down upon his work, with a childish +pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Does he think they will grow that way?" asked Walter, but Emily put her +finger on her lips. The oaf began muttering in a low, indistinct murmur, +like one soothing a child.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he drew his soiled hands across his brow. The streaks of earth +added to his hideousness and his expression had changed. Some new +current of thought was in his mind. He ground his teeth, as Walter had +seen him in Shagarach's office, and roared with fists clenched at some +invisible adversary.</p> + +<p>"Run, run," called Walter, dragging Emily with him along the little +footpath—on, on. They could hear their own footsteps echoed behind, +but the roars did not appear to be gaining on them.</p> + +<p>"Faster! Faster!" urged Emily, as Walter weakened. The briers scratched +her dress, the boughs brushed in her face, but what were these to the +monster behind them? She dared not turn, lest his fierce eyes should be +glaring into hers and his grimy hands clutch at her flying hair.</p> + +<p>"I cannot keep up," cried Walter breathing hard, when they had covered a +quarter of a mile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Walter, try!" cried Emily, dragging him in her turn.</p> + +<p>"I cannot. I can only walk. He is not behind us," he added. Emily slowed +up and peeped around timidly. The expected image did not confront her. +The woods had a less lonely look here, but they were perfectly still.</p> + +<p>"Have we escaped him?" she said, all flushed and out of breath. Without +the wings of fear, she could not have run a third of the distance.</p> + +<p>Walter held his breath to listen before he answered. There was not a +stir in the woods save the sighing of the leaves.</p> + +<p>"Let us walk on fast," he said, and Emily was glad to moderate her pace. +But they had not proceeded twenty steps, when again she started off, +dragging Walter by the hand. This time the sound was on their right. The +oaf had crossed the path and was tearing through the woods. With the +advantage of the smooth path they might outstrip him and get to the +road, where succor could be had.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I cannot go farther," cried Emily, fainting. "Leave me, Walter, and +bring help as soon as you can." The elastic sinews of the boy had +recovered their strength and he was now the fresher of the two.</p> + +<p>"Only a little farther, Miss Barlow. I can see the road through the +trees."</p> + +<p>The pursuer seemed to have slowed his own pace to a walk. Once they +caught a glimpse of his form. He was not aiming at them straight but +slantingly toward the road, as if he would head them off. At present he +was almost abreast and gaining.</p> + +<p>"There is the road and a cottage," said Walter, but the pursuer was +ahead of them now, running swiftly. They could see him leap the wall +only ten paces off, just as they emerged from the footpath. Bewildered +and spent, Emily turned the wrong way and ran straight into the arms of +Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall.</p> + +<p>"Turnpike toll!" exclaimed the manikin, deliriously prolonging the +accidental embrace, while Emily strove to tear herself away in a flurry +of amazement, horror and disgust.</p> + +<p>"Let her alone!" cried Walter, clutching at Kennedy's neck. But the +manikin took no account of the boy, merely cuffing him over the ears, +and endeavoring to force a kiss upon Emily.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Emily—Miss Barlow," he said at last, while she stood +flaming like a rose with indignation. "Forgive me if I press my suit too +ardently——"</p> + +<p>But he was not afforded an opportunity to continue his amorous speech. +Walter Riley possessed a spirit which rose against cuffing. Weak and +weary as he was, he drew off after a moment's survey, to get the import +of the conversation, and sent the manikin spinning with a blow that +brought blood drops from his nose. Kennedy felt the trickling organ in +momentary confusion, but before his idol he could not show the white +feather.</p> + +<p>Whack! Whack! He brought his cane—bulldog end for a handle—down on the +boy's shoulder, neck and head—bursting the bandages over his still +acutely tender burns. Walter clinched, but Kennedy threw him off and +continued his caning. Even Emily's intercession only brought her a smart +rap over the fingers with which she tried to grasp his weapon.</p> + +<p>"You brute!" she exclaimed, and threw herself between Kennedy and the +boy. But help from another quarter was at hand. A tall, lithe form +vaulted a neighboring wall and the swish of a horsewhip cut the air. It +must have cut something else, for Kennedy hopped and turned, and +presently was capering with as much agility as if the ground were redhot +iron. Emily could hear the repeated swishes and the manikin's +supplications, but she did not look up. She was stroking Walter's +forehead. The boy had fainted in her arms.</p> + +<p>"It's me, Harry. It's Kennedy. Don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>This cry caused her to turn.</p> + +<p>"It's a coward. Run."</p> + +<p>Emily had heard the voice only once before, in that eventful ride to +Hillsborough; but she would have known Harry Arnold instantly from his +photograph. How broad-chested he was! How superb! Yet there was +something feverish in his excitement now. He came toward her, raising +his hat.</p> + +<p>"I have to apologize for a slight acquaintance with that blackguard, +which led me to refuse at first to credit his conduct. Otherwise I might +have been of assistance earlier."</p> + +<p>"Slight acquaintance? You owe me twelve hundred and by George you'll pay +it," snarled Kennedy, moving away. Harry never turned.</p> + +<p>"The boy has fainted. He must come up to the house."</p> + +<p>The "cottage" in view, then, was the Arnold house. A carriage stood in +front of the terrace at the head of the gravel drive which led up from +the turnpike. Harry had probably just arrived home from an afternoon +spin through the suburbs.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Arnold——" Emily stopped, but the mischief was out. +Harry had lifted the unconscious boy tenderly in his strong arms and was +carrying him up the drive. He turned and smiled, showing his beautiful +teeth, but, seeing Emily's confusion, did not speak the words that were +on his lips. Inside the house he called for Indigo.</p> + +<p>"Some wine," he ordered.</p> + +<p>"And a little sweet oil, if you have it," added Emily; for the neck +bandage had been torn away and the vitriol burn was bleeding from one of +Kennedy's blows.</p> + +<p>"This is Walter Riley," said Emily, at last recovering from her +embarrassment, "Mr. Shagarach's clerk, who was assaulted about ten days +ago."</p> + +<p>She studied Harry's face as she bathed the tender part with the sweet +oil and poor, sick-eyed Walter revived under the wine. But there was no +expression other than one of surprise crossed with sympathy.</p> + +<p>"And yourself, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"I am Miss Barlow."</p> + +<p>Harry's astonishment reached a climax at this, but he was too well bred +to display it.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to have you for my guest, Miss Barlow. It is unfortunate +that my mother is not at home. We have both admired your efforts in +behalf of Rob. And Miss March was just speaking of you."</p> + +<p>By the time that Walter was ready to go home, Emily had fixed with +feminine absoluteness her opinion about Harry's innocence.</p> + +<p>But then she was under a heavy debt to Harry. He had rid her once for +all of the impertinences of Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE HEEL OF ACHILLES.</h3> + + +<p>"I shall be compelled to alter my theory at one point," said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Yet your general conviction remains unchanged?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. Your cousin is capable of the crime. A powerful motive was +present. We have traced him to the door of the room. What factor is +wanting?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe it of Harry," said Robert, shaking his head +doubtfully. "But what has occurred to cause you to reconstruct your +theory?"</p> + +<p>"My interview with Dr. Whipple, his physician."</p> + +<p>"Harry was ill at the time, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"He is able to prove an alibi."</p> + +<p>"A hard obstacle to get over," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"But not insurmountable," replied the lawyer. "Dr. Whipple happens to +be the most methodical of men. 'At 3:48 p. m., on Saturday, June 28, I +took Mr. Harry Arnold's pulse in his own room at Woodlawn,' said he, +consulting his notes. 'It was eighty-three beats to the minute.'"</p> + +<p>"Rather high," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"'Abnormal,' Dr. Whipple observed, 'something on his mind, I should say. +Overexcitement, worry, the fever of modern life.' His diagnosis was +incorrect; but the time is important. The fire was discovered, you +remember, at 3:30."</p> + +<p>"So Harry couldn't have set it and got to Woodlawn," said Robert, as if +sincerely glad.</p> + +<p>"Not in his mother's carriage, as I had surmised," said Shagarach. "But +an express train leaves the Southern depot at 3:29. It arrives in +Woodlawn at 3:45. Harry crossed Broad street from the passageway after +setting fire to the study—it is barely a minute's walk—there caught +the train and reached Woodlawn at 3:45. His house is close to the +station. Dr. Whipple found him feverish and with rapid pulse from the +excitement of his crime and the hurried escape."</p> + +<p>"His mother stated, however, when she called, earlier in the afternoon, +that she had left him at home ill," said Robert, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"She is solicitous about his delicate health," said Shagarach, with +almost imperceptible irony. The delicate health of the powerful +canoeist, the victorious steeplechaser, need hardly weigh on the most +tender mother's mind. This was their last consultation before the trial, +and the lawyer shook Robert's hand with a word of encouragement when he +left the young man to his hopes and forebodings.</p> + +<p>The lawyer turned into a byway which carried him through the Ghetto.</p> + +<p>Solomon and Rachel were sitting on their doorsteps, fanning away the +heat of the August afternoon.</p> + +<p>"There goes Shagarach," said someone.</p> + +<p>"He who fawns on the gentiles," said another, "that he may obtain places +from them."</p> + +<p>"He is ashamed of his father's blood; he will deny his mother," was the +taunt of a third.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" asked the boys, flocking up.</p> + +<p>"It is Shagarach, who was called an apostate in the Messenger last +week."</p> + +<p>Jewish boys nearly all learn enough of Hebrew to read the characters. +They understood the answer and passed it along to their comrades.</p> + +<p>"Here comes Shagarach, who was printed among the apostates," they cried, +edging near the lawyer, while the older folks prudently contented +themselves with passing remarks.</p> + +<p>Shagarach only turned a deaf ear and a pitying glance upon his misguided +people. But as he chanced to look into the window of Silberstein's +store, the first page of the Messenger, conspicuously spread out, +attracted his attention, and he saw, under a black heading, among a list +of "apostates" his own name, with the description "Gentile Judge." The +malevolent features of Simon Rabofsky scowled at him from within, but +were instantly withdrawn. Shagarach, however, stopped and rung the bell, +while the circle around him stared in wonder. Was the pervert going into +Nathan Silberstein's house?</p> + +<p>There was a long pause before any one answered. The maid who finally +came was wiping her hands on her apron.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, Mrs. Silberstein," said the lawyer. "I am Meyer +Shagarach, of whom you have doubtless heard. I desire to see Simon +Rabofsky, who, I perceive, is within."</p> + +<p>A great flurry of moving chairs could be heard, as though the +convocation was breaking up.</p> + +<p>"Bid him not depart." Shagarach was already in the narrow entry, with +the door closed behind him, and the stupefied woman in front. "Simon +Rabofsky," he cried, after the form which was disappearing through a +rear door. It stopped reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"I wish to confer with you and with Moses Cohen. He is there. I saw him +through the window. The others may go or stay, as they please."</p> + +<p>Cohen and Rabofsky stood before Shagarach in the store.</p> + +<p>"Sit down. Draw down the curtain," said the lawyer to Mrs. Silberstein, +who with her husband and the others stood on the threshold listening.</p> + +<p>"'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord. As an interpreter of the +scriptures, you have met that text, Simon Rabofsky?"</p> + +<p>"It is graven on my heart," said the money-lender, with unction.</p> + +<p>"Liar, thief and hypocrite!" cried Shagarach, "you are as vindictive as +the viper, who stings the hand of his benefactor. Our conference shall +be short. I spare your white hairs before these people who respect you. +See to it that I walk through this street unmolested and I may forbear +for a time to punish you for the perjury you committed and the receipt +of stolen articles."</p> + +<p>"I had not known the people of Israel so far forgot their good +teachings," said Rabofsky, "as to insult a peaceful passer-by, like the +gentile ruffians."</p> + +<p>"Go forth without excuses," said Shagarach sternly.</p> + +<p>"I will gladly remind them," said the cowed usurer, leaving the room.</p> + +<p>"Moses Cohen, you will retract and apologize in your next issue, or I +shall prosecute the Messenger for slander."</p> + +<p>"I have only told the truth," answered the young editor, doggedly. "You +are no longer a Jew."</p> + +<p>"I am always a Jew," said Shagarach. "Though I worship not with the +ancient rites and forms, adapted for simple minds, my God is the God of +my fathers and my heart is with my people. I value them, I love them, +better than some who prey on their prejudices and wring ducats by +pretended piety."</p> + +<p>"But——" urged Cohen, stiff-necked and arrogant.</p> + +<p>"I have spoken," said Shagarach. "You have slandered me. Retract."</p> + +<p>When he left Silberstein's house the Ghetto was deserted. The people had +fled within, and he saw Rabofsky far up the street, warning them with +uplifted hands. Only two or three children, with eyes like jewels, +played on the curbstone, innocent of the guile that comes with years. +Shagarach lifted one of these in his arms and kissed her. "Good-by," +lisped the baby, as he continued his walk.</p> + +<p>Bitter tears came into the strong man's eyes.</p> + +<p>That night he wrote late in his chamber; and though he was usually the +earliest of risers, the next morning his mother knocked on his door +repeatedly in vain.</p> + +<p>"It is the trial day, my son," she said, loudly. Slowly he arose and +rubbed his eyes. His clothing was dusty with the bedding lint. And when +he came down to the breakfast table his look was mournful and +abstracted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + +<h3>OYEZ! OYEZ!</h3> + + +<p>"This is the gravest charge known to the law," said the district +attorney, "and the man found guilty of it by a jury of his peers is +condemned, under the statutes of this commonwealth, to be hanged by the +neck until he is dead."</p> + +<p>Dead! The solemn word reverberated through every listener's heart. The +crowded court-room was hushed. The jurymen had just been contemplating +their own portraits in the last newspaper which they would see for many +days, and now bent forward in the first flush of eager attention. Court +officers were carrying whispered messages to and fro. On the bench sat +Chief Justice Playfair, silver-haired and handsome, between two of his +judicial brethren. The case was considered of such importance that +three judges had been assigned to decide upon the legal questions which +might arise.</p> + +<p>On the threshold of an ante-room Inspector McCausland was cordially +shaking hands with Shagarach. In the front row of the spectators sat +Mrs. Arnold, thin-lipped and cold, beside a sad-faced woman in black. +She had bowed distantly to the prisoner—no longer fettered, but +permitted to occupy a seat in the "cage" in full view—between Dr. +Silsby and Emily Barlow, who had bravely elected to join him. Evidently +he was not one of those who grow plump on jail regime and batten under +the shadow of the scaffold. The young man's dark cheek was lean, his +eyes unwontedly bright, but he never flinched from the district +attorney's gaze.</p> + +<p>"You have learned from the reading of the indictment," thundered the +district attorney, stroking his patriarchal beard with one hand and +holding his notes in the other, "that the immediate act committed by the +accused was not murder but arson. It is true that he did not +deliberately procure the deaths of the seven persons who were deprived +of their most precious property, of life itself, in that calamity with +which our city rung on the evening of June 28. He did not draw their +blood personally with the usual weapons of homicide—pistol, dagger, +bludgeon or ax. But the evidence will show you that a new weapon, more +dangerous, because more deadly, than any of these, was used on this +occasion, and that he set on foot forces which did procure the deaths of +the victims, and which, but for the vigilance of man and the mercy of +Providence, might have doubled or trebled their number—yes, laid the +greater part of our fair city in ruins.</p> + +<p>"For myself, I might be willing to suppose that the accused did not +foresee the consequences which would follow his rash deed; that he +trusted to a confined and local destruction, of property merely, +following his application of the match to his deceased uncle's study. +But the law, justly and wisely, we must admit, presumes foresight, +imputes deliberation and malice, when loss of life follows the +commission of a felony, and taxes the felon not alone with the initial +damage but with all damages that accrue. I leave it to your own good +sense, gentlemen, whether the fire-fiend who applies the torch in the +heart of a crowded city is not potentially as guilty as the Malay +running amuck with brandished dagger or the anarchist hurling his bomb. +There can be only one answer to the question. Our own lives, the lives +of our wives, sisters, children, are imperiled by any other doctrine +than that which the law lays down.</p> + +<p>"Therefore, reluctantly, sorrowfully, with misgivings and fear, we have +impeached Robert Floyd of the murder of Ellen Greeley, who was burned to +death in her chamber; of Rosanna Moxom, Katie Galuby, Mary Lacy and +Florence F. Lacy, who died of injuries received while attempting to +escape from the Harmon building; of Alexander Whitlove, who was caught +between the floors of that building, in a heroic attempt to conduct his +elevator to the imprisoned occupants of the upper story; and of Peter +Schubert, the fireman who lost his life nobly in the performance of his +duty."</p> + +<p>This catalogue of the victims moved the spectators, and Emily noticed +the woman in black crying softly in her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"I will not attempt to instruct your consciences or call to your minds +the responsibility which rests upon your shoulders as well as upon mine. +For I am convinced that every man before me approaches this case with +the same unwillingness which I myself have felt, but also with the same +determination to uphold the law, to do justice and nothing more or less +than justice, to all parties, that I myself have formed."</p> + +<p>The district attorney spoke this disclaimer of officiousness or +persecution with genuine feeling, but it was scarcely necessary for any +who knew him. The name of Noah Bigelow, like that of Shagarach, was +guaranty in itself that the cause would be tried with courtesy and +fairness. Yet something in his bearing might have told the psychologist +that the nature of the man, unsuspicious, candid and slow to entertain a +conviction of guilt, would be equally slow to part with such a +conviction when it had once obtained a lodging.</p> + +<p>The outline of the evidence to be presented consumed more than an hour +in its delivery; and the reading, in a high drawl, of the minutes of the +previous trial, occupied the remaining time until the noon recess +tediously. If the jury had not been provided with a typewritten copy it +would have profited little by this latter proceeding.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE BATTERIES OPEN FIRE.</h3> + + +<p>Assistant District Attorney Badger conducted the examination of the +first witness for the government, who gave his name as the Rev. St. +George Thornton and wore the manner of an Oxford graduate.</p> + +<p>"You knew the uncle of the accused, Prof. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"Excellently. He had been for many years an attendant at my church."</p> + +<p>"The Church of the Messiah, of the Episcopal denomination?"</p> + +<p>"The Episcopal church, sir; we do not consider it a denomination."</p> + +<p>"You officiated at Prof. Arnold's funeral service, I believe?" said +Badger, disregarding this nice distinction.</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"This took place on June 26, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"On Thursday, June 26; yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And saw the accused, Robert Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Kindly describe his actions and appearance on that occasion, Dr. +Thornton."</p> + +<p>"In common with others who knew him, I was greatly struck by the absence +of any signs of grief."</p> + +<p>"Such as what?"</p> + +<p>"Such as tears and—and general signs of dejection."</p> + +<p>"As though he were meditating upon something else than the death of his +uncle?"</p> + +<p>"As though his thoughts were far away."</p> + +<p>"That is all," said Badger, and Shagarach, who had apparently expected +something more substantial than this, arose.</p> + +<p>"You have officiated at hundreds of funerals, I presume, Dr. Thornton?"</p> + +<p>"At many hundreds, sir," answered the clergyman, gravely.</p> + +<p>"And the ordinary marks of grief, as you say, are tears?"</p> + +<p>"It is a rare burial in which tears are not shed."</p> + +<p>"So rare that the exceptions impress themselves upon you, like the +burial of Prof. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Would you say that in this class of rare exceptions the absence of +tears was always due to callousness in the mourners?"</p> + +<p>"Always? No, sir; not always."</p> + +<p>"Generally?"</p> + +<p>"I should not attempt to say, sir."</p> + +<p>"You would scarcely judge the sincerity of a mourner's sorrow by the +copiousness of flow from his lachrymal glands?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly."</p> + +<p>"One moment," said Badger, detaining Dr. Thornton for the redirect. "Did +you mean to emphasize the tearlessness of the accused as the principal +feature of his bearing which attracted your attention?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; it was the coldness, I may say the general indifference +expressed in his countenance, which struck me."</p> + +<p>"Will you allow me to see your eyeglasses, Dr. Thornton?" asked +Shagarach. "The lenses are concave. You are near-sighted?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Badly so, I should say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"That will do."</p> + +<p>"John Harkins," answered the next witness to Badger's preliminary +question.</p> + +<p>"Were you ever employed by Prof. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"I was."</p> + +<p>"In what capacity?"</p> + +<p>"As coachman."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"About a year ago, just before Mungovan."</p> + +<p>"How long did you remain in his household?"</p> + +<p>"About two weeks."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice anything unusual in the relations between the accused +and his uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I heard them quarr'ling two or three times."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by quarreling?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they were talking angrily to each other."</p> + +<p>"Did you listen so as to hear the import of any of these conversations?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't listen, but I heard what they were saying."</p> + +<p>"How often did you hear what they said?"</p> + +<p>"I heard the old gentleman say once that he was a young rogue to be +herding with the like of them cattle."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"The young fellow—his nephew."</p> + +<p>"Called his nephew a rogue to be herding with such cattle?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Those were his own words?"</p> + +<p>"As near as I can remember."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a master was Prof. Arnold?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"He was a pretty good man. I haven't anything against him."</p> + +<p>"Particular, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was particular."</p> + +<p>"Why were you discharged at the end of a fortnight?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't give any reason; just said I didn't suit, that was all."</p> + +<p>"But he paid you in full?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"And you found him not unreasonably exacting?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he used to grumble a good deal."</p> + +<p>"At you?"</p> + +<p>"At me, yes, and the others, too."</p> + +<p>"You never heard the others complaining, however?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"What did they say when you told them of his grumbling at you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they said when you get used to him you won't mind."</p> + +<p>"When the two 'quarreled,' as you call it, how many of the voices were +raised in what you took to be anger?"</p> + +<p>"How many?"</p> + +<p>"One or both?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it was the professor that was angry."</p> + +<p>"Didn't he always talk loudly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"When he 'grumbled' at you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"When he 'grumbled' at the other servants?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"But they didn't mind it?"</p> + +<p>"No; they said I wouldn't mind it after awhile."</p> + +<p>"Did Floyd seem to mind it, when you saw him after these 'quarrels,' as +you call them?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't notice."</p> + +<p>"Will you, upon reflection, swear that these quarrels were anything more +than frank, warm discussions, misunderstood by you at the time, but such +as any two men of independent mold and opposite views might indulge in?"</p> + +<p>The witness was greatly puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't say. It was pretty loud talking, that was all."</p> + +<p>The redirect by Badger brought out nothing new for the government's +case. It was felt that their attempt to show strained relations between +uncle and nephew was no great success. But the next witness was looked +to curiously. He gave his name and position as James L. Carberry, +secretary of Bricklayers' council No. 31, C. L. U. He was a powerful +man, with a conspicuously well-filled sleeve, suggesting that mighty +flexed arm, grasping a mallet, which is the workingman's favorite +symbol. But the low brow hinted at a degree of honest dullness. While +Carberry was taking the stand Badger asked leave to submit a newspaper +clipping to the jury.</p> + +<p>"This bears upon the point we shall now endeavor to prove, your +honors—namely, the anti-social opinions of the accused."</p> + +<p>Against Shagarach's protest and exception, Chief Justice Playfair +allowed the jury to read an article from the Beacon, signed "Robert +Floyd," in which the following sentence was marked as especially +obnoxious:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"When the highest court in the land decides that offensive +combination of capitalists in trusts is right, but defensive +combination of workingmen in labor unions is wrong, then the time +is ripe for revolution."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Shagarach's defense of his client's right to freedom of speech and +thought was eloquent. But courts are and no doubt should be the +sanctuaries of orthodoxy, and any other conclusion than that which Chief +Justice Playfair and his two colleagues reached, in a matter so personal +to themselves, could hardly be expected.</p> + +<p>"You know the accused?" asked the district attorney of Carberry.</p> + +<p>"I have met him," answered the witness.</p> + +<p>"State to the jury the occasion upon which you met him."</p> + +<p>"It was at a meeting of the union one Sunday afternoon, about six months +ago."</p> + +<p>"Did you have any conversation with him at that time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"On what topic?"</p> + +<p>"On strikes and labor questions and anarchy and——"</p> + +<p>"Will you state what opinions, if any, the defendant expressed in regard +to anarchy?"</p> + +<p>"He told me he sympathized with the anarchists."</p> + +<p>"Anything further?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; he said in his opinion assassination was justifiable."</p> + +<p>"Where did this conversation take place?"</p> + +<p>"In a little smoking-room off the hall."</p> + +<p>"Were you alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the particular occasion which started your discussion +of anarchism with the accused?" asked Shagarach, after a consultation +with Floyd.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it the arrest of Dr. Hyndman in London?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I believe it was."</p> + +<p>"It was for Dr. Hyndman that Floyd expressed sympathy, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, it was Hyndman."</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to know whether Dr. Hyndman is a philosophical anarchist +or not?"</p> + +<p>"Sir?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know what school of anarchism Dr. Hyndman represents?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you know whether he advocates bomb-throwing?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"You take it for granted, then, that all anarchists are bomb-throwers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Had Dr. Hyndman thrown a bomb?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember."</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember that he merely made an anarchistic speech, in +denunciation of society?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"You didn't inquire into the matter much?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"But Floyd, you say, expressed sympathy with the anarchists?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." This was said emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Didn't he say that he sympathized with Dr. Hyndman?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I told you."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, it is not what you told me. Didn't Floyd say he sympathized +with Dr. Hyndman as opposed to the bomb-throwing anarchists?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember that he did."</p> + +<p>"Didn't he say that he sympathized with Dr. Hyndman's objects, but not +his methods?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember anything about that."</p> + +<p>"Then you didn't carry away a very clear idea of the conversation, did +you?"</p> + +<p>"I think I did," the witness replied with positiveness. Then the +cross-examiner dismissed him, satisfied to have made it apparent that +fine distinctions would pass through Mr. Carberry's mind like beach sand +through a sieve. The redirect examination went over the same ground, and +Badger placed a Mr. Lovejoy on the stand.</p> + +<p>"You are treasurer of the Beacon company, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"All checks in payment for services rendered pass through you?"</p> + +<p>"Through my subordinates or myself."</p> + +<p>"Have you calculated, as requested, the total sums paid to Robert Floyd +for special articles during the time of his employment?"</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"Will you state to the jury the earning capacity of this young man at +the time of his uncle's death?"</p> + +<p>"The question is prejudicially framed, Brother Badger," said Shagarach. +"Please do not incorporate your own inferences when examining a +witness."</p> + +<p>"How much had Floyd earned while with you?" asked Badger.</p> + +<p>"From January to June, inclusive, six monthly checks were made out +payable to Robert Floyd, for services, and three smaller checks for +expenses incurred. The amount of the former checks was $309."</p> + +<p>"During six months?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hero Leander," said the next witness.</p> + +<p>"City editor of the Beacon, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Will you state any conversation you had with Inspector McCausland on +Monday morning, June 30?"</p> + +<p>"The conversation on my side was conducted in the deaf-and-dumb +alphabet. Mr. McCausland entered our office and inquired which was +Floyd's desk."</p> + +<p>"And what did you do?"</p> + +<p>"I pointed."</p> + +<p>"To Floyd's desk?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Mr. McCausland."</p> + +<p>A buzz of expectancy went around when the inspector walked in from the +ante-room and mounted the stand. He wore a rose in his buttonhole, but +the smile had left his countenance. With his testimony, it was felt, the +real case for the prosecution began.</p> + +<p>"You arrested the accused, I believe, Mr. McCausland?" asked the +district attorney, amid the breathless attention of the court.</p> + +<p>"I had that disagreeable task to perform."</p> + +<p>"Where was the arrest made?"</p> + +<p>"On the steps of the Putnam hotel."</p> + +<p>"What was your first act upon reaching the station?"</p> + +<p>"I stripped the accused and confiscated the clothes he wore."</p> + +<p>"These were the clothes he had worn at the time of the fire, also?"</p> + +<p>"He stated so."</p> + +<p>"You have preserved those garments?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"You also confiscated the desk which Floyd had occupied at the Beacon +office?"</p> + +<p>"The drawers of it, yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Have you preserved the contents of that desk?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Will you inform the jury what you found in the drawers of Robert +Floyd's desk?"</p> + +<p>"Three copies of the anarchist organ, Freiheit. There they are."</p> + +<p>"Do these papers preach philosophical anarchy, Mr. McCausland?"</p> + +<p>"I should say not. They are in German, but the leading editorial of this +one—which was kindly translated for me by a friend—recommends the +'stamping out by fire and sword of John Burns and all such +peace-mongering worms.'"</p> + +<p>"A forcible expression, surely. It is the Most organ, in short?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Will you state the further results of your search in the desk?"</p> + +<p>"I found this paper of powder, a part of a fuse, a written formula for +manufacturing a bomb, a blotter with part of a note on it, legible by +the help of a mirror——"</p> + +<p>"That will do for the present, Mr. McCausland. And will you state what +you may have found in the pockets of Floyd's coat?"</p> + +<p>"A quantity of powder. There were grains of it also on the knees of his +trousers."</p> + +<p>"Similar to that found in his desk?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"What else?"</p> + +<p>"A burnt match," said the inspector, just as the clock struck five and +the constable's gavel sounded a prelude to adjournment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER L.</h2> + +<h3>THE BOMBARDMENT CONTINUES.</h3> + + +<p>Nearly the same gathering was admitted to the courtroom on the second +day as on the first. But, wedged in between Mrs. Arnold and the unknown +woman in black, Emily had pointed out to her the famous novelist Ecks, +who sat with his head inclined toward the still more famous playwright +Wye. Wye was mooting volubly the chain of testimony which had been spun +around the accused on the foregoing day, which seemed to possess for him +all the circumscribed but inexhaustible interest of the chessboard or a +dramatic intrigue. But Ecks was sketching in pencil the principal +characters of the trial.</p> + +<p>"We shall summon Mr. McCausland again," said the district attorney. "At +present we surrender him to the counsel for the accused."</p> + +<p>A keen glance shot from lawyer to witness, comparing the two great +opponents. Shagarach's face was a mask, stern and impenetrable, but +McCausland visibly braced himself for the encounter. Equal they might be +in a sense, as Mount Everest is the peer of the Amazon, but as different +in their spheres as the river and the mountain. In the detective's +subtle eye the keen observer might have discovered a finesse and a +suppleness not altogether remote from the corresponding traits in the +cracksman whom he had impersonated. But Shagarach could no more have +counterfeited Bill Dobbs than McCausland could have acted with success +the role of Count L'Alienado.</p> + +<p>"Would you hang a kitten on the evidence of a burned match, inspector?" +asked the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"If he were old enough to scratch it," answered the detective.</p> + +<p>"Will you turn out the contents of your upper right vest pocket?"</p> + +<p>McCausland's face became rosy with embarrassment, but he obeyed the +request. A ripple of laughter went around when among the broken-up +fractions of a card of lucifers there appeared one that was blackened at +the end. The inspector allowed the merriment to die, then coolly +remarked:</p> + +<p>"It is the match I found on Floyd."</p> + +<p>And it was felt that he had held his own.</p> + +<p>"Phineas Fowler," called the district attorney. The old chemist tottered +to the stand and held a parchment hand high in air while the clerk +administered his oath.</p> + +<p>"What is your business, Mr. Fowler?"</p> + +<p>The pantaloon trembled visibly and twisted the two horns of his forked +board one after the other with nervous fingers, blinking about all the +while like an old Rosicrucian projected into the daylight world.</p> + +<p>"A chemist," he piped, in a treble so high that the thoughtless smiled, +but so feeble the chief justice bent forward to hear and the +stenographer requested him to raise his voice. Ecks began sketching away +rapidly at the advent of this character. The very odor of acids seemed +to exhale from his shivering person.</p> + +<p>"What lines of trade do you supply?"</p> + +<p>"Photographers, dyers, armorers——"</p> + +<p>"The last class with explosives and fulminating compounds, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Also with oils and varnishes," answered the pantaloon, his voice +breaking in the desperate effort he made to be audible.</p> + +<p>"Would you call him senile or venerable?" whispered Ecks.</p> + +<p>"He must have sold Floyd the powder," answered Wye, intent on the +imbroglio.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever met the accused?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"When and where?"</p> + +<p>"In my office twice."</p> + +<p>"What was the date of the first visit of the accused to your office?"</p> + +<p>"June 23."</p> + +<p>"And of the second?"</p> + +<p>"June 27."</p> + +<p>"On what business did the accused call to see you, Mr. Fowler?"</p> + +<p>"He was inquiring about bombs," answered the witness, a strong +back-country twang coming out as he proceeded and adding to his other +peculiarities.</p> + +<p>"What did he especially desire to know about bombs?"</p> + +<p>"How they were made."</p> + +<p>"Were you able to inform him? Have you made a study of this subject?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. There's nothing mysterious about it."</p> + +<p>"You entered into a minute discussion, then, with Floyd on the subject +of bomb-making?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no; I answered his questions. Didn't volunteer nothing." Mr. +Fowler grew reckless of the niceties of speech as he accelerated his +replies. "Don't believe it's a proper matter to be preached from the +housetops."</p> + +<p>"Your room is tolerably near the top of the house, however?"</p> + +<p>"Top story, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, proper or improper, what was the upshot of your conversation?"</p> + +<p>"He was coming again and I was to sell him some powder."</p> + +<p>"Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, three feet of fuse."</p> + +<p>"Will you describe this fuse?"</p> + +<p>"Why it's just common fuse, made out of linen cloth, sprinkled with a +slow-burning mixture—nitre, sulphur and a little powder—sheathed in +rubber and fitted into a metal plug."</p> + +<p>"You sold Floyd three feet of this fuse?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And how much of the powder?"</p> + +<p>"Two pounds."</p> + +<p>"Common gunpowder?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; American army powder."</p> + +<p>"You were to sell him these commodities, you say. Did he actually return +and purchase them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; I had them all done up when he called again."</p> + +<p>"Called on June 27, as he had promised to?"</p> + +<p>"Called on June 27, sir."</p> + +<p>"Which was the day before the fire and the day after his uncle's +funeral, according to Dr. Thornton's testimony as to the date."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you are right, sir," squeaked the pantaloon, who evidently +stood in trepidation of his burly examiner.</p> + +<p>"For what purpose did you understand that the accused wanted this powder +and this fuse?"</p> + +<p>"Told me he wanted to make some sort of a bomb."</p> + +<p>"Did he ask you for particular directions?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes."</p> + +<p>"Did you furnish him the shell or envelope of this projected bomb?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; he said he had a teakittle to hum," said the pantaloon, +whereupon the repressed volcano of merriment exploded once more, to the +indignation of John Davidson, who occupied a front seat, listening to +the testimony of his townsman. The chief justice looked stern and the +district attorney's deep bass rumbled on without a pause.</p> + +<p>"A teakettle at home. And how was that to be converted into the covering +of a bomb?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I told him to put the fuse inside and draw it through the nozzle, +so the plug would stop up the spout, then shovel in the powder, tamp her +up with nails and pellets, fasten down the lid and you have a bomb ready +made. The kettle, I understood, was a frail one, hardly stronger than a +canister."</p> + +<p>"Not a concussion bomb, Mr. Fowler, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Those are filled with dynamite or giant powder. I don't deal +in the high explosives."</p> + +<p>"This bomb would have to be fired through the fuse?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"But it would explode with considerable force."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess it would rip things jest a trifle." Here the pantaloon +forced the ghost of a smile himself.</p> + +<p>"Kindly bring in the safe."</p> + +<p>It came in on the shoulders of two stout porters, all breached and +battered and bubbled in places, as if the iron had melted like tar.</p> + +<p>"The explosion of this shell, the construction of which you have just +described, would blast away a very considerable obstacle, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Lord, yes! Slit a cannon."</p> + +<p>"Would it be sufficient—I ask your opinion as one having experience in +this line—would it be sufficient to cause the mutilation visible in +that safe?"</p> + +<p>"All that and a sight more."</p> + +<p>"And the accused gave you to understand that he had undertaken the +construction of just such a bomb?"</p> + +<p>"I took him so."</p> + +<p>"Very well. So much for that. Did you examine the piece of fuse which +Mr. McCausland found in the desk occupied by Floyd at the Beacon +office?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"What kind of fuse was it?"</p> + +<p>"Same as I sold him."</p> + +<p>At this point a small piece of fuse, some six inches in length, was +submitted to the jury for inspection and passed along from hand to hand.</p> + +<p>"And the powder found in it?"</p> + +<p>"Same powder."</p> + +<p>"And the powder in Floyd's coat pockets?"</p> + +<p>"Same powder."</p> + +<p>"And the grains on the knees of his trousers, where they may have +spilled?"</p> + +<p>"Same powder."</p> + +<p>"That's the black side of the shield," whispered Ecks, as the district +attorney sat down.</p> + +<p>"Now for the white," answered Wye.</p> + +<p>"It is not part of your regular business, I presume," said Shagarach, +"to furnish anarchists with bombs?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir," answered the witness, making corkscrew curls of his beard +points.</p> + +<p>"Or incendiaries with igniting material?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; never did it before in my life, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why did Floyd say he wanted this powder and fuse and information as to +the construction of bombs?"</p> + +<p>"Said he was studying up anarchism."</p> + +<p>"For what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"Wanted to write an article on it, he said."</p> + +<p>"And you seem to have believed him?"</p> + +<p>"At the time, or I wouldn't have sold him the goods."</p> + +<p>"What made you believe him?"</p> + +<p>The witness paused, puzzled and shifted from foot to foot.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't say, sir, as to his credentials."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't he have procured these materials in some less public way if +secrecy had been an object with him?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty of other ways of getting such things, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yet he walked in openly to your office?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Told you his name?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Gave you his card?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; business card; said he was a reporter."</p> + +<p>"Where is the card?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice the name?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; took no particular notice. Thought it was all right at the +time."</p> + +<p>"But the young man stated that he was studying up anarchism?"</p> + +<p>"And wanted to see for himself just how easy it was to make a bomb."</p> + +<p>"That will do."</p> + +<p>"Rather an eccentric whim," said Wye. "Putting up a clever defense, +though."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice how the defendant's jaws are set?" answered Ecks.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hero Leander," called Badger, and the city editor again took the +stand.</p> + +<p>"Did the Beacon ever give Floyd an assignment to write up anarchy?"</p> + +<p>The witness shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Mr. McCausland once more," said Badger, while the city editor, whose +occupation had taught him to reduce laconicism to a science, rushed off +to write up his own somewhat abbreviated testimony for the evening +edition of his paper.</p> + +<p>"Did you find any manuscript or notes of an article on anarchism in the +desk occupied by the accused?"</p> + +<p>"None, sir."</p> + +<p>"Or in the garments he wore at the time of the fire?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"You had no opportunity," asked Shagarach, "after the fire to search +Floyd's room at his uncle's house?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I had," replied the inspector.</p> + +<p>"Then you could not testify that such notes or such a manuscript were +not in existence before the fire?"</p> + +<p>"I could offer an opinion."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Chandler."</p> + +<p>In the interim, during which our old acquaintance, the patrolman, was +hunted up, the jury curiously examined the powder, which McCausland +handed them.</p> + +<p>"You recognize this article, Mr. Chandler?" asked Badger, pointing to +the safe.</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"You removed it or had it removed from the ruins of the Arnold house +after the fire?"</p> + +<p>"Acting under Mr. McCausland's instructions, I did so."</p> + +<p>"It presented the same appearance as now?"</p> + +<p>"As far as I know."</p> + +<p>"The safe will be removed to the jury-room later for inspection," said +Badger.</p> + +<p>"What was the date of Prof. Arnold's death, Mr. Chandler?" asked +Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"He died on a Tuesday. Let me see. The fire was on the 28th; then it +must have been the 24th."</p> + +<p>"How is that competent, your honor?" objected Badger.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Mr. Shagarach can explain its relevancy," said Chief Justice +Playfair.</p> + +<p>"Easily, your honor. Fowler, the chemist, has testified that Floyd's +first visit was on the 23d, which was Monday. His uncle died on Tuesday, +suddenly and unexpectedly. The prosecution asks us to believe that the +accused either foresaw in some occult manner his uncle's death or +contemplated blowing up the house while his uncle was still alive."</p> + +<p>"Admit the testimony," said the judge.</p> + +<p>"District Chief Wotherspoon," called the district attorney, relieving +his assistant. The witness was rugged and weather-beaten and his uniform +was not brushed for inspection. He had just answered an alarm.</p> + +<p>"You had charge of the fire forces in the early part of the Arnold fire, +did you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; until Chief McKay arrived I was senior officer."</p> + +<p>"Do you recall the explosions which took place?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"How many in number were the explosions?"</p> + +<p>"Two."</p> + +<p>"Two distinct explosions?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Will you state to the best of your knowledge the portion of the burning +buildings from which the explosions came?"</p> + +<p>"The first one was a single discharge. It came from the second story of +the Arnold house."</p> + +<p>"Where the study was located?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"You feel positive?"</p> + +<p>"I do. I was climbing a ladder at the time and was thrown off my hold by +the shock."</p> + +<p>"And the second of the explosions?"</p> + +<p>"The second came after an interval and was different in character—more +like the setting-off of a bunch of firecrackers, but greatly exaggerated +in the volume of sound. There can be no doubt this was the fireworks +shop in the adjoining building."</p> + +<p>"But the first one positively came from the study?"</p> + +<p>"Positively."</p> + +<p>"A very loud report?"</p> + +<p>"Very loud."</p> + +<p>"Such as might have been caused by the explosion of the bomb Mr. Fowler +described?"</p> + +<p>"I should say so."</p> + +<p>"At what time," asked Shagarach, "did the explosion take place? How long +after you arrived?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say exactly; a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"One?"</p> + +<p>"More than one."</p> + +<p>"Two?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Three?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"And when did you arrive?"</p> + +<p>"At 3:32."</p> + +<p>"How long had the fire been going when you arrived?"</p> + +<p>"As nearly as I could estimate from the headway, about five minutes. +Opinions varied a good deal on that point."</p> + +<p>"Let us say five and add the three which elapsed before you heard the +explosion. Then if there were a bomb in the study or library and its +fuse were lighted at the start of the fire that fuse must have burned +for eight minutes before it reached the powder."</p> + +<p>"He's a genius," exclaimed Wye, but Ecks was sketching Shagarach's +forehead and did not answer.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said the fireman.</p> + +<p>"A somewhat incombustible fuse. But if the fuse were not lighted at the +start then presumably the fire started at the opposite end of the room +and worked its way slowly toward the fuse?"</p> + +<p>"Presumably."</p> + +<p>"Even so, it seems likely that the fuse must have been boxed up tightly +or it would have caught earlier."</p> + +<p>"It certainly does to me, sir, though I haven't given the subject any +thought."</p> + +<p>"It is not a difficult one," said Shagarach. "Wouldn't you say, then, +that this fire must have been started by some one who was ignorant that +there was a bomb in the room in close proximity to the safe? Otherwise +he would have lighted the fuse."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>"And consequently by some one else than Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"I object," said the district attorney. He ought to have objected long +before, since Shagarach's previous question was wholly out of order, but +his attention had been distracted by McCausland.</p> + +<p>"If it had been the incendiary's desire to secure a gradual spread of +the flames, so as to permit himself ample time to escape, while at the +same time insuring the destruction of the safe, would it not have been +prudent for him to apply the match at the other end of the room, as he +appears to have done?" asked the district attorney. But Shagarach +objected to this in his turn and the two questions were left unanswered, +locking horns like tangled stags in the minds of the wondering jurors.</p> + +<p>"May I add one further question to my cross-examination of Mr. Fowler?" +asked Shagarach, when the fireman was dismissed.</p> + +<p>"How long, Mr. Fowler, would it take for that bomb to explode after the +tip of the fuse had ignited?"</p> + +<p>"About a minute," answered the chemist.</p> + +<p>"For the present," said the district attorney, "we are obliged to rest +this portion of the case. The fatality which has pursued all the +occupants of the Arnold house, even to the discharged coachman, Dennis +Mungovan, has deprived us by Miss Lund's death of a witness who would +have directly and immediately connected the bomb which Floyd constructed +with the mutilated safe. This afternoon we shall enter upon a different +phase of the subject—namely, an earlier attempt on the part of the +accused to obtain possession of the will."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LI.</h2> + +<h3>GLORY ALLELUIA.</h3> + + +<p>"Saul Aronson," called the district attorney.</p> + +<p>Shagarach's assistant had been amazed to find a subpoena thrust into his +hands just as he returned to his desk after the noon recess. Of what +service could he be to the prosecution? As little as possible, he +inwardly determined, while he made his way to the stand.</p> + +<p>"Do you know a young lady named Miss Serena Lamb?" asked Badger, in his +iciest voice. The cruelty of it was exquisite. If he had discharged a +revolver at Aronson point blank the witness could not have looked more +terror-stricken. To have the secrets of the affections thus held up to +public scorn! To be compelled to wear on his sleeve the heart whose +bleeding in his bosom he had with difficulty stanched! His face grew +pale—or, rather, a mottled white. But Shagarach rose on purpose and his +master's presence acted like a cordial on the fainting witness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he stammered out, marveling what was to come; how long the +torture would be prolonged.</p> + +<p>"That is all for the present," said Badger.</p> + +<p>"Prof. Borrowscales," called the district attorney, and a shadow of +disappointment fell on the court-room. There is no testimony less +amusing than that of the writing expert and none more inconclusive. At +least eleven jurors out of twelve disregard it and form their own +opinions by the rule of thumb.</p> + +<p>"You are a professor of penmanship?" asked the district attorney.</p> + +<p>"An expert in handwriting, yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Of many years' experience?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-nine."</p> + +<p>"Have you examined the papers submitted to you by Inspector McCausland?"</p> + +<p>"I have microscopically."</p> + +<p>"Describe them, please, for the benefit of the jury."</p> + +<p>"This one is a page of manuscript purporting to be the work of Robert +Floyd and bearing his signature. The other contains a chemical formula."</p> + +<p>"The bomb formula, taken from the desk of the accused," explained the +district attorney. "Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"A number, apparently jotted down on the same sheet."</p> + +<p>"Please read out that number."</p> + +<p>"No. 1863."</p> + +<p>"What do you say as to the identity of the handwritings, professor?"</p> + +<p>"I give it as my conviction that they are the same. The capital Q——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the capital Q," interrupted Shagarach. "We admit that the +formula was written by the accused."</p> + +<p>"Retain the autograph for one moment," said the district attorney. +"There was another article submitted to you for comparison. What was +that?"</p> + +<p>"A blotting-pad," said the professor, holding it up in his fingers and +showing a clean side, bearing the reversed impressions of two or three +lines of writing.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly hold that up to the mirror you have brought and read +what may be read of the writing taken up by the pad?"</p> + +<p>"Looks to me as if it came from the back of a postal card. Just fits +that size and says:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"'Dear Aronson: The lock that I told you about still sticks. Please +come and open it. I will not trust it to an ordinary locksmith.</p> + +<p class="right">"ROBERT FLOYD.'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>"As to the signature and writing? Are they genuine?"</p> + +<p>"Beyond peradventure and on the strength of my twenty-nine years of +experience."</p> + +<p>"During your twenty-nine years of experience," asked Shagarach, "have +you ever failed to arrive at the conclusion your employers expected?"</p> + +<p>"I object," said the district attorney, and Shagarach withdrew his +question. It was one of those ramrod questions, the office of which is +simply to drive the charge home and then be withdrawn.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly write your own name on that?"</p> + +<p>He handed up a common paper block and a pen. The expert flushed a little +and put the pen in his mouth. This blackened his lips and raised a +titter. His tongue rolled in his cheek like a schoolboy's while he +wrote. The effort was unconsciously prolonged. Shagarach took the +autograph and passed it to the jury. A broad smile spread from face to +face like a row of lamps lighted successively by an electric current. +Then the half-legible scrawl was passed to the district attorney and +Shagarach sat down.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," said the district attorney, "that you profess to +be an ornamental writer?"</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary, Brother Bigelow," interrupted Shagarach again. "We +acknowledge the note on the postal card."</p> + +<p>"He has a spark of humor, after all," said Ecks, who was still in his +seat.</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose Aronson has to do with it?" asked Wye, while the +jury studied the blotter, one after another, mirror in hand.</p> + +<p>"Pineapple Jupiter!" called Badger. The old negro hobbled to the stand +and immediately opened his mouth in a good-natured smile, which set the +spectators' lips working responsively.</p> + +<p>"This is a murder case, involving life and death," said Chief Justice +Playfair, with dignity, and the court officers rapped their staffs and +bustled about, commanding silence.</p> + +<p>"You know Mr. Aronson, the last witness but one?" asked Badger.</p> + +<p>"See him most every day, sah."</p> + +<p>"Do you also know a young lady named Miss Serena Lamb?"</p> + +<p>"See her most every day, sah."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever introduce Mr. Aronson to Miss Lamb?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah."</p> + +<p>"When and where?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I fotched him up to her and says I, 'Here's a convert, +sister,' says I. 'Hallelujah!' says she, and that's how I done it, sah."</p> + +<p>"Where was this?"</p> + +<p>"Down on the square, sah—Salem street."</p> + +<p>"And when?"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, when did you introduce Mr. Aronson and Miss Lamb?"</p> + +<p>The negro scratched his woolly poll.</p> + +<p>"Clean forgot de time, sah."</p> + +<p>"Was it a year ago?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout a year, sah."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you fix the time exactly? It is important."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, sah, it was about de second-last time I got a hair-cut."</p> + +<p>This answer provoked a roar, but the district attorney took the witness +in hand.</p> + +<p>"Can you count?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sah; I can count, sah."</p> + +<p>"Up to how far?"</p> + +<p>"Up to ten mostly, sah."</p> + +<p>"You can't read?"</p> + +<p>"Born before Massah Linkun, sah. Chillun can read. Old folks picking +cotton; no time for school, sah."</p> + +<p>"And you reckon time by the occasions when your hair needs cutting?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah; wife and I reckons pretty close on that, sah."</p> + +<p>"An excellent way for want of a better hour-glass," said the district +attorney. "About how often do you get your hair cut from winter to +winter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, about six times, sah. My ole wool grows putty stiddy-reg'lar, sah."</p> + +<p>"Six times? You have had your hair cut lately?"</p> + +<p>"This morning, sah. Wife said I wasn't looking 'spectable enough to +come into court before genteel gemlen."</p> + +<p>"And you introduced Miss Lamb and Mr. Aronson about the second hair-cut +before that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah, third-last time. 'Scuse me."</p> + +<p>"It must have been four months ago, then. That will do. Mr. Hardwood."</p> + +<p>A business-looking old gentleman took the stand.</p> + +<p>"You are a member of the firm of Hardwood & Lockwell?" asked Badger.</p> + +<p>"Senior member."</p> + +<p>"What is your business?"</p> + +<p>"Safemakers."</p> + +<p>"How long have you been established?"</p> + +<p>"Thirty-seven years."</p> + +<p>"Do you recollect filling an order for a safe from Prof. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir. It is the first order on our books."</p> + +<p>"Are those books in existence to-day?"</p> + +<p>"They are, sir," said the old business man, with pride.</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to know whether that safe ordered by Prof. Arnold was +still used by him at the time of the fire which destroyed his home?"</p> + +<p>"I have reason to believe so. I remember seeing it and reminding him of +the circumstance in his house within a year."</p> + +<p>"You regarded it as in a way the foundation stone of your business +prosperity?"</p> + +<p>"It was our first sale."</p> + +<p>"What, if you recollect, was the number of the safe—an old-fashioned +article, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Somewhat antiquated in style, sir. I have consulted our books, at the +request of the officer—Mr. McCausland, I think. The number of the safe +sold to Benjamin Arnold was 1863."</p> + +<p>"Were you here," asked Shagarach, "when Prof. Borrowscales read out the +number which was jotted down upon a sheet of paper in Floyd's desk?"</p> + +<p>"I was. I was struck at the identity."</p> + +<p>"You have no means of knowing, however, whether or not that number was a +memorandum of the date in the life of Bakunin, the anarchistic writer?"</p> + +<p>"I have not."</p> + +<p>"Mr. McCausland, again," said the district attorney.</p> + +<p>For the third time the inspector came to the box from the ante-room +through the door at which he watched and listened.</p> + +<p>"You occupied a cell adjoining that of the prisoner in the state prison +at one time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Will you state any conversation relevant to this trial which you may +have overheard?"</p> + +<p>"It was a soliloquy rather than a conversation."</p> + +<p>"Describe this soliloquy, then."</p> + +<p>"Floyd used to talk at night a good deal. He wasn't sleeping well." The +court was hushed at this strange introduction. "There was a +communication between our cells and by listening carefully one night I +managed to make out what he was saying."</p> + +<p>"And what was he saying?" asked the district attorney, while Floyd +studied the witness' face with more curiosity than he had yet at any +time shown.</p> + +<p>"'Don't tell anybody, Aronson.'"</p> + +<p>To the surprise of everybody the accused burst out into a hearty laugh, +which rung through the court-room and evidently nettled the whole +prosecuting force. Then he bent over to Shagarach and whispered in his +ear. Shagarach jumped to his feet, promptly as usual, for the district +attorney had finished. His opportunity had come.</p> + +<p>"What crime had you committed, Mr. McCausland, that the state should +isolate you in one of its prison cells?"</p> + +<p>"I was a voluntary prisoner," answered the detective. He had put his +neck in the noose and must bear the strangling as cheerfully as +possible.</p> + +<p>"For what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"A professional one."</p> + +<p>"You were there to win the confidence of the accused and extort a +confession of guilt from him if possible?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you succeed?"</p> + +<p>"Owing to the cleverness of the prisoner and his having been forewarned, +I failed."</p> + +<p>"Not owing to the fact that he is innocent, you think?"</p> + +<p>"I think not."</p> + +<p>Shagarach seemed satisfied not to press this further and asked for the +blotter, which was in the foreman's hand.</p> + +<p>"You were requested to state any conversation relevant to this cause +which you had with the accused while in prison. You answered with a few +meaningless words pronounced in sleep. I confess the relevance of all +this later testimony escapes me," said Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"The next witness, Miss Lamb," answered the district attorney, "will +make the connection of all these threads of testimony plain."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Mr. Aronson, the piano dealer?" asked Shagarach of the +witness.</p> + +<p>"By sight."</p> + +<p>McCausland, though he kept his own identity as hidden as possible, knew +the whole city by sight.</p> + +<p>"Is it not possible to construe this note on the postal card as +referring to the refractory lock of Miss Barlow's piano, which the +accused had recently purchased for her as a birthday present?"</p> + +<p>"Out of the $309 he earned?" asked McCausland.</p> + +<p>"That and the lifelong income he has enjoyed from his mother's +property," said Shagarach. Whereupon McCausland, Bigelow and the whole +court-room stared, and even Chief Justice Playfair's trained eyebrow was +perceptibly lifted.</p> + +<p>"Miss Serena Lamb," called the district attorney. How Aronson blushed +and fidgeted when his idol, with eyes downcast in virgin shyness, +tripped in from the corridor at a constable's beck and mounted the +stand!</p> + +<p>"Glory alleluia!" she said, with her right hand raised, when the clerk +had repeated the formula of the oath.</p> + +<p>"You are a member of the salvation army, Miss Lamb?" asked the district +attorney. Her bonnet and garb sufficiently answered the question.</p> + +<p>"You are acquainted with a young man named Saul Aronson?" was the first +question put to Serena.</p> + +<p>"I was made known unto such an one," said the girl, in quasi-scriptural +parlance.</p> + +<p>"By whom?"</p> + +<p>"Pineapple Jupiter."</p> + +<p>"How did Aronson first present himself to your attention?"</p> + +<p>"As one who had seen the error of unbelief and wished to repent. +Alleluia!"</p> + +<p>"As a convert, then? Did you ever have any private conference with this +convert?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly tell the jury when and where?"</p> + +<p>"It was the month of May at my home in the city."</p> + +<p>"In the parlor of your house?"</p> + +<p>"Even so."</p> + +<p>"On what date, if you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Early in May, but the day escapes me."</p> + +<p>"State the substance of your conversation."</p> + +<p>"The youth had been a sinner, but his heart was touched and he +unburdened his misdeeds to me, of which this was the gravest:</p> + +<p>"While he was still unregenerate a certain youth of his own age"—she +looked full at Robert—"had tempted him with a bribe to enter a certain +house wrongfully and open a certain safe. For the youth had cunning in +that craft. The room he entered was filled with books and a canary bird +slept in his cage, for it was evening, and a desk stood before a window +in one corner."</p> + +<p>"I desire to call the attention of the jury to this description," said +the district attorney. "It corresponds strikingly with the description +of Prof. Arnold's study in the printed copy of Bertha Lund's testimony +at the hearing, which is in their possession. Proceed, Miss Lamb."</p> + +<p>"And the name of the tempter was Robert Floyd." The hush deepened +perceptibly as Serena paused.</p> + +<p>"Upon his knees with many tools," she resumed, "he toiled at the door, +but it was firm and resisted his skill. Nevertheless the youth stated +that he would have succeeded had not an interruption come and startled +the guilty pair."</p> + +<p>"Are there any further details you desire to add to this recital?"</p> + +<p>"Only that it was done on the Sabbath and surely unblessed labor."</p> + +<p>"You have not seen the convert since?"</p> + +<p>"Never, but I have heard that the courage of his faith deserted him."</p> + +<p>"Is the man here?" asked the district attorney, turning toward +Aronson—poor Aronson, who sat open-mouthed, goggle-eyed, with gaze +riveted on the pale sweet face in the bonnet. Now a thousand eyes were +turned upon him, but still he saw only the rosebud mouth and awaited +breathlessly its answer.</p> + +<p>"That is the man," answered the witness, pointing. The greater "Ecce +homo" of history scarcely drew forth such a murmur from the bystanders. +But the gavel of the crier was heard rapping for attention, for the +court had risen promptly at the strokes of the clock.</p> + +<p>"One moment, your honor," said Shagarach, rising, after a whispered +consultation with his assistant, now voluble and stuttering with +excitement. "I desire to ask that the court issue a warrant for the +arrest of the last witness, Miss Serena Lamb, on the charge of malicious +perjury."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LII.</h2> + +<h3>THE ROSEBUD MOUTH.</h3> + + +<p>"What in the world is he smiling for?" asked Emily. Inspector +McCausland's smile was a barometer of her own uneasiness, and she could +not help remarking his unusual geniality at the opening of the court on +Wednesday.</p> + +<p>The previous day's work had closed with a sturdy wrangle between +Shagarach and the district attorney. Whether it was that Shagarach's +charge of perjury was not sufficiently supported (it was merely +Aronson's word against Serena's) or that Bigelow's inelastic mind +characteristically clung in the face of cogent proof to the convictions +it had already formed, he had objected might and main to the proposed +issue of a warrant and even gone so far as to protest against his +learned brother's effort to intimidate a witness of the weaker sex. +McCausland had amicably agreed to secure the attendance of Miss Lamb for +cross-examination, and so the confusion subsided. Miss Lamb was there +and so was the inspector. But what made him smile?</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Miss Barlow," said a familiar voice, close to Emily's +ear.</p> + +<p>"Bertha Lund!" she exclaimed. There it was, the large, fair Swedish +face, with sparkling blue eyes that danced with the pleasure of the +surprise. After a moment of silent study Emily gave her a bear-like +squeeze and only released her that she might shake hands with Robert.</p> + +<p>"It's none of my doing, Mr. Robert," said Bertha. "If I could, I'd have +staid home in Upsala, but I gave my word to Mr. McCausland that I'd come +back, and here I am to keep it."</p> + +<p>"But we thought you were lost. We saw the body and buried it," cried +Emily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was another Bertha Lund. Mr. McCausland thought it was me, +too."</p> + +<p>"Another one from Upsala?"</p> + +<p>"Why, if you took all the Bertha Lunds and Nils Nilssons in Upsala you +could fill a big town with them," said the housemaid, laughing.</p> + +<p>"And how did you happen to go home to Sweden?" asked Robert.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold wanted another house-girl and I'd told her about my sister +Christina, who is old enough now to be handy. She was kind enough to +pay my passage over so I could bring her out with me, and let me stay +all summer, too. Did you ever see such goodness?"</p> + +<p>"She's a very uncommon mistress, certainly," said Emily.</p> + +<p>"It was the day after we were talking at Hillsborough that I started," +said Bertha. "Do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," answered Emily, brightening up, "and now let us finish +that talk. I have a hundred questions I want to ask you. Shall you +testify to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No; I've only just got here and the lawyer said he would leave me till +the last. The voyage is very tiresome, you know."</p> + +<p>"Then come with me," cried Emily, with animation, and drew Bertha after +her into the ante-room. Here Robert caught a glimpse of her from time to +time questioning, explaining, measuring with her hands, as if she were +satisfying herself on doubtful points of her theory. And when she +finally came out, in the middle of Miss Lamb's cross-examination, her +face wore a smile so auroral that even Chief Justice Playfair's eyes +left the witness and wandered over toward the true-hearted girl.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Aronson told you that he worked on his knees at this mysterious +safe?" was Shagarach's opening question to Miss Lamb.</p> + +<p>"On his knees," answered the maiden, still bonneted and fanning herself +with Emily's fan, which she had forgotten to return in the excitement of +the previous evening.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Aronson is not an uncommonly tall man, is he?"</p> + +<p>"A trifle taller than you are."</p> + +<p>"But yet not above the average," persisted Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not."</p> + +<p>"The government wishes us to believe that there was a bomb purposely +placed under this safe. That would raise it from the floor several +inches, would it not?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. I know nothing about the bomb."</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly explain how the locksmith could be kneeling while at +work on a safe which, according to the testimony of Miss Lund, at the +hearing, was resting on a shelf as high as her waist from the ground?"</p> + +<p>The witness fanned herself nervously and once or twice opened her lips +to reply, but no sound came forth. A wave of frightened sympathy passed +through the spectators in the prolonged interim of silence, like that +which seizes an audience when an orator falters and threatens to break +down.</p> + +<p>"You do not answer, Miss Lamb?"</p> + +<p>"I feel faint," said the girl. A chair and a glass of water were hurried +to her aid.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure this is the man Aronson who visited you?" asked Shagarach +when she had recovered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"Then we have two Aronsons in the case; Mr. Saul Aronson, my assistant, +and Mr. Jacob Aronson, the piano dealer, who will testify to having +received the postal card copied on the blotting-pad. And this Mr. +Aronson who visited you declared that he had been a locksmith, if I +understood your story?"</p> + +<p>"He said so."</p> + +<p>"That is not surprising. Mr. Aronson, my assistant, was formerly a +locksmith. What was the date of your interview?"</p> + +<p>"The first part of July. I can't remember the exact day," replied the +witness, a bit nettled. The rusticity was rubbing on again in her +manner, and to Saul Aronson it actually seemed that her cheekbones were +becoming prominent, like those of her horrid aunt whom he had met on +that fateful evening. But this may have been an optical illusion. The +sympathy of the spectators trembled in the balance. She seemed so young +and dove-like. But there stood Shagarach confronting her, hostile, +skeptical, uncompromising.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Aronson had made this alleged attempt to open a safe on Sunday +evening, you said?"</p> + +<p>"On the evening of the Sabbath."</p> + +<p>Here Aronson gesticulated and whispered in Shagarach's ear. The lawyer +listened calmly.</p> + +<p>"When did you first become acquainted with him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember exactly. He came to our meetings for a long time +before I was introduced to him."</p> + +<p>Serena blushed a little and Aronson's cheeks were all abloom.</p> + +<p>"He was a convert to your faith?"</p> + +<p>"So we thought."</p> + +<p>"How long had he been converted?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Pineapple Jupiter says he introduced you to Mr. Aronson about four +months ago, if the district attorney reckons rightly from his periodic +hair-cuts. Then at the time of the visit to your house in July he must +have been a convert nearly two months?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>"But the will was only drawn on June 7. And Mr. Aronson, I understand +you to testify, yielded to this temptation before he was converted?"</p> + +<p>The witness did not answer, but looked around the court-room as if for +sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Are we to understand that he broke into the safe before the will was +placed there?"</p> + +<p>The witness fluttered her fan nervously and her lips were quivering. She +looked down.</p> + +<p>"Sunday evening, you said. You are probably not aware that Prof. Arnold +read in his own library every Sunday evening up to the time of his +death?"</p> + +<p>Serena began to cry. Instantly the tension of the audience was relaxed +and comments passed to and fro.</p> + +<p>"She belongs to the romantic school of statisticians," whispered Wye. +Ecks responded with a cartoon of "Miss Meekness, making a slip of the +decimal point."</p> + +<p>"Religious mania; hysterical mendacity," a doctor diagnosed it, with a +pompous frown.</p> + +<p>"Little minx had a craving for notoriety," said a woman, elderly, +unmarried and plain.</p> + +<p>"I should say it illustrates the pernicious effect of novel reading on a +rustic brain," murmured a clerical personage, clearing his throat before +he delivered himself.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Shagarach's insistence left him. His voice softened. With his +very first question, the distressed look, half of reproach, half of +sympathy, toward Serena, cleared away from Aronson's face.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't Mr. Aronson agitated on that evening, Miss Lamb?"</p> + +<p>She blushed amid her tears and her answer was less defiant.</p> + +<p>"Extremely agitated."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't his story to you somewhat confused in the telling?"</p> + +<p>"Very confused, yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And perhaps the outlines blurred still more in your memory by the lapse +of time?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. I meant to speak of that myself," answered Serena, +brightening. Whereat the entire court-room brightened. Shagarach's +inflections became kind, almost genial now. One would have thought she +was his own witness, he stroked her so gently.</p> + +<p>"And his accent was somewhat hard to follow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very."</p> + +<p>"He is not perfectly familiar with our language as yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, he speaks it poorly."</p> + +<p>The court-room was all curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Didn't this picture of the study, which you have quoted, come in as +part of his description of a law case?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; he began talking about the Floyd case."</p> + +<p>"In which he was deeply interested at that time, as my assistant. That, +however, he did not make clear to you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Can you swear that this whole picture of a Sunday-night entrance and +experiment on the safe was not an imaginary one—a piece of fiction, +invented and vividly told in the first person to illustrate what Robert +Floyd might easily have done if he had desired to destroy the will, but +what——"</p> + +<p>Shagarach inclined slightly toward the jury, "but what he evidently did +not do?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Truly I couldn't catch half of what he was saying when he +began to talk rapidly."</p> + +<p>"I myself am a locksmith. He could come and give me money. We go Sunday +night. Nobody home. House all still. I get down on my knees. File a +little. Drill. Somebody come. I go away. Come again. Try again."</p> + +<p>Serena smiled a smile that sent waves of sunshine through the room. +Shagarach had not once descended to mimicry of his assistant's dialect. +But the broken fragments of speech, the confused arrangement, seemed to +call before Serena's eye an amusing picture of her lovelorn swain's +incoherence.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I was altogether mistaken," she volunteered.</p> + +<p>Shagarach waved her with courtesy to the nonplussed though apparently +still obstinate district attorney. A long conference followed among the +prosecuting lawyers, while Emily heaved a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>Over in his front seat Ecks was gazing at Shagarach, as if trying to +pierce the great brow, not opened showily, but masked, as it were, by +the loose-falling hair. The marvelous skill of his tactics—first, the +breaking down of Serena's story through its intrinsic discrepancies, +then the building up from her own lips of a hypothetical case in the +jurors' minds—all without deviating a hair line from true courtesy and +delicacy of treatment—sank deeply into the novelist's heart. He did not +reply to Wye's comment on the underplot.</p> + +<p>"Incarnate self-control!" he muttered to himself.</p> + +<p>But alas for poor Saul Aronson! It was bad enough to be compelled to +flee from suspicion post haste through the gateway of public ridicule. +But to realize at last that Serena was human and no angel—capable of +pique, brusqueness and tears—capable even of resisting Shagarach! The +scales of illusion fell from his eyes and he hung his head, a chastened +youth.</p> + +<p>"The redirect is deferred," said Bigelow, and Serena, after returning +the fan to Emily, stepped softly out. Her footfalls barely broke the +dead silence as she picked her way through the crowd.</p> + +<p>Aronson lifted his eyes to her face. What imperfections he noted now! +The eyebrows too level, the rosebud mouth too small and the cheekbones +unmistakably present, even if barely breaking the curve. It was fated +so. Doubtless in time he would follow old Abraham Barentzen's counsel +and take some comely daughter of Israel to wife, well-dowered, a good +housekeeper, and free from tittle-tattle. But never again would his +naive heart palpitate with such virginal ecstasy as when he first gazed +through the rose-misted spectacles of love on that sweetly imperfect +gentile maiden.</p> + +<p>"We shall now offer a mass of evidence," said the district attorney, +"tending to prove the crucial point of exclusive opportunity."</p> + +<p>Seven witnesses took the box, one after another, and in response to +Badger's questions, swore that they were neighbors of the Arnolds, were +wide-awake and observant about the time of the fire, but saw no person +coming out of the house either in front or rear. The evidence was +negative, but cumulatively it produced its effect, leading the minds of +the jury away from Serena Lamb and her legend to the real core of the +puzzle. By the time the last witness on this point arrived, a cordon of +watchers, completely environing the house, had been drawn around it by +the government, and it seemed impossible that any one could have slipped +through unobserved.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LIII.</h2> + +<h3>A DUMB EYEWITNESS.</h3> + + +<p>"Hodgkins Hodgkins," answered the first witness who testified after the +noon recess.</p> + +<p>"When did you first learn that Prof. Arnold had made a will?" asked the +district attorney.</p> + +<p>"On receipt of a letter from my esteemed friend, dated June 15."</p> + +<p>"What was the reason of Prof. Arnold's informing you of his action?"</p> + +<p>"A long-standing, I may say a life-long friendship, had induced him to +select me as his executor."</p> + +<p>"When you heard of his death, what action did you take?"</p> + +<p>"I was in New York at the time on important business, which I proceeded +to expedite as far as its weighty nature would permit. Large bodies +travel slowly, you know. Then when the transaction was completed to my +satisfaction I repaired to the city and visited the home of my departed +friend, the testator."</p> + +<p>"Did you let Floyd know of your coming?"</p> + +<p>"I apprised him of my intention and instructed him to lock the room in +which the document was guarded."</p> + +<p>"Did you actually call on the afternoon of the fire?"</p> + +<p>"A short delay, occasioned by my failure to find Mr. Hardwood, the +locksmith, who was to assist me in opening the safe, retarded my arrival +until 3:45. At that time the paper was beyond my reach."</p> + +<p>"You could not testify as to the contents of the will?"</p> + +<p>"Only in a general way."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any reason why, if the accused were expecting you, as he +stated that he was when he ordered the housemaid to dust the room, do +you know any reason why he should leave the house suddenly, without any +instructions as to your reception?"</p> + +<p>"That's the best point the prosecution has made!" exclaimed Wye.</p> + +<p>Ecks was executing a series of caricatures illustrating the involution +of Hodgkins' face back into a crab-apple. "You leave out his cunning," +suggested Wye, looking over the heads.</p> + +<p>"Not unless he had lighted this fire," said the senior member solemnly. +At which answer Shagarach rose with a shade more promptitude than +usual.</p> + +<p>"Why do you profess to be the executor of Benjamin Arnold's will?"</p> + +<p>"I am so styled over his own signature," answered Hodgkins, flourishing +the professor's letter.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it proved in the probate proceedings that you were only to carry +out certain minor legacies?"</p> + +<p>"It is not becoming in me to anticipate the decision of the honorable +court in that matter."</p> + +<p>"As executor, then, did you try to uphold the will of your friend?"</p> + +<p>"In my opinion as a lawyer, it cannot be upheld."</p> + +<p>"In my opinion as a lawyer, it can. I ask you a question. Did you make +any effort to uphold the will of which you claim to have been nominated +executor?"</p> + +<p>"I satisfied myself that the task was fruitless."</p> + +<p>"You represented a client desirous of breaking the will at the probate +proceedings, did you not?"</p> + +<p>"The will was already broken, canceled, destroyed."</p> + +<p>"Do you or do you not perceive a gross indelicacy in your desperate +attempt to break the will of which you say you were appointed executor, +in order to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the disinherited heir?"</p> + +<p>"I am not here to discuss my conduct with you, sir," answered Hodgkins +testily, for the cross-examiner flusters quickly when he becomes the +cross-examined.</p> + +<p>"When did you arrive in New York?"</p> + +<p>"Friday evening."</p> + +<p>"When did you call on the Arnolds?"</p> + +<p>"On the Arnolds?" repeated Hodgkins, as if he did not understand the +question.</p> + +<p>"On Harry Arnold, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Friday evening."</p> + +<p>"You went there directly?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"They were your clients?"</p> + +<p>"I am Mrs. Arnold's legal adviser."</p> + +<p>"You told Harry Arnold of your intention to call at his uncle's on the +following day and open the safe?"</p> + +<p>"I believe I announced my intention to approach the affair with +expedition."</p> + +<p>"Did he object or suggest a postponement?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot remember that he approved or demurred."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to testify that you informed Floyd by letter the hour at +which you would call?"</p> + +<p>"I announced my general intention of calling."</p> + +<p>"In the same letter in which you requested him to lock the study?"</p> + +<p>"There was only one letter. It was dispatched from New York."</p> + +<p>"Then how did Floyd learn of your contemplated visit?"</p> + +<p>"I have understood that he was informed by Mrs. Arnold that afternoon."</p> + +<p>"From whom did you understand this?"</p> + +<p>"From Mrs. Arnold herself," said Hodgkins, looking toward that lady.</p> + +<p>"You told her the hour?"</p> + +<p>"Half-past two."</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. Arnold called on Floyd, I believe, at about 2:45?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so. I am not informed as to the exact minute."</p> + +<p>"Was she there by appointment with you?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. However, I had informed her of the time."</p> + +<p>"As you stated before. Then Floyd only knew of your proposed visit at +second hand through Mrs. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"I had not informed him."</p> + +<p>"You might have entered and taken the will away without his knowledge, +then?"</p> + +<p>"It might have been done, though I assure you we had no such intention."</p> + +<p>"When did you arrive at the house?"</p> + +<p>"At 3:45."</p> + +<p>"And Floyd had left a little before 3:30. He had waited for one hour, +without the courtesy of an appointment from you. Then because he chose +to leave the house, and did not wait upon your pleasure, you infer that +he must have committed arson and procured the death of seven of his +fellow-creatures. That will do."</p> + +<p>"Charles Checkerberry."</p> + +<p>A railroad conductor stepped forward to take the oath.</p> + +<p>"What names!" said Ecks to Wye. "It's like a census of Bedlam Proper."</p> + +<p>But Wye did not answer. He was wondering if he could weave the safe +explosion into the plot of his next melodrama.</p> + +<p>"You are a conductor on the Southern railroad?" asked the district +attorney.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"What time did your train leave the city on the afternoon of Saturday, +June 28?"</p> + +<p>"The express train left at 3:29."</p> + +<p>"Did you see the accused riding on that train?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Get a full look at him."</p> + +<p>"I am positive that is the man. I remember the fact because he had no +ticket and had to pay his fare——"</p> + +<p>"To what point?"</p> + +<p>"To Woodlawn."</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"He paid his fare and declined to take the coupon, which is worth ten +cents when presented at the ticket office. Told me to keep it myself."</p> + +<p>"This generosity is not common among passengers?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. That is why the incident impressed itself upon my memory."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice anything unusual in the appearance of the accused?"</p> + +<p>"I noticed he seemed rather excited."</p> + +<p>"And got off at Woodlawn?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; jumped off at Woodlawn and crossed the fields over toward the +woods."</p> + +<p>"On the unfrequented side of the station?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; toward the cemetery. There is only one house on that side."</p> + +<p>"Whose house is that?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"The Arnolds', I believe."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Harry Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"He rides in on the Northern line usually, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so; it is more up-town."</p> + +<p>"In the city, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; a great deal more convenient to the high-toned section."</p> + +<p>"Then if this passenger were Harry Arnold he would have had to pay a +cash fare on your railroad, as well as one not used to riding over the +road, like Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. We don't exchange tickets with the Northern."</p> + +<p>"You see a great many hundred faces in the course of a week?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"How many tall, dark young men, wearing full mustaches and answering to +the general description of the accused, should you say you had seen +since June 28?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I couldn't say as to that."</p> + +<p>"A hundred?"</p> + +<p>"More, probably."</p> + +<p>"But out of these hundred or more you have a distinct recollection of +this one, the accused?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And would swear his life away on the strength of your recollection?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not exactly——"</p> + +<p>"That is all."</p> + +<p>"One moment," said the district attorney. "Your occupation and +experience give you exceptional training in the study of faces, do they +not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>At this moment Harry Arnold came into the courtroom, attended by a great +St. Bernard. The young man had hardly stepped inside the bar, when a +deep bark was heard and the dog leaped toward the accused, standing on +his hind legs and placing his paws on the wall of the cage, while he +licked Robert's hands like a spaniel. Emily was deeply affected and +tried to distract Sire's attention, but he had eyes only for his master.</p> + +<p>"Down, Sire," said Robert.</p> + +<p>Shagarach had paused during the interruption.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly shut your eyes, Mr. Checkerberry?" he now said.</p> + +<p>The witness did as requested. Then Shagarach stepped up to Harry Arnold +and whispered to him. Harry looked at him oddly. But he shook off the +momentary confusion, and, scarcely looking at the witness, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Am I the man you saw?"</p> + +<p>"You are," answered the conductor.</p> + +<p>"Open your eyes. Which of these two men spoke to you?" asked Shagarach. +Robert stood up beside his cousin. The resemblance was indeed striking. +Both were about the same height and both strongly marked with the +peculiarities of kindred blood. The conductor turned from one to the +other.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Shagarach. "It is the face of Jacob, but the voice of +Esau. For the present, that will do."</p> + +<p>"Miss Senda Wesner."</p> + +<p>While the bakeshop girl was pushing her way forward from the back seat +which she had occupied, Sire, who was squeezed where he lay, gravely +arose, climbed the vacated witness-box and spread his great limbs out, +majestically contemplating the spectators.</p> + +<p>"This is the one eyewitness of the crime," said the district attorney.</p> + +<p>"But unfortunately dumb," added Shagarach. Just then an impulse seized +Emily, who had left the cage for a moment—Emily, the most shrinking of +girls—and catching a large waste-basket which stood under the lawyers' +desks to receive the litter that accumulates in trials, she stood up and +shoved it toward the dog.</p> + +<p>To everybody's surprise, he scrambled to his feet in alarm, backed +hastily away and barked continuously at the harmless object. Then +before the whole court, judges, jury and all, Emily clapped her hands +and gave a girlish shriek of delight—only to sink in her place +afterward, as the spectators smiled, and hide her blushes behind her +fan. But it was some little while before Sire would let her pat him.</p> + +<p>"You work opposite the Arnold house, Miss Wesner?" asked the district +attorney.</p> + +<p>"Directly opposite. I can look right over into their windows," said +Senda.</p> + +<p>"But I hope you don't."</p> + +<p>"Well, I try not to, but sometimes, you know, you can't resist the +inclination," chattered the bakeshop girl.</p> + +<p>"You can always try."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do try, but you know——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. We all know. At what hour did you see Floyd coming out of +his house on the afternoon of the fire?"</p> + +<p>"The fire was going before 3:30, because I saw it. And I'll swear Mr. +Floyd left the house at least four minutes, probably five, before."</p> + +<p>"Walking to the right or to the left?"</p> + +<p>"To my right, his left," answered Senda, glibly.</p> + +<p>"And the flames broke out shortly after he went out?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of course——" began the witness, all primed with an argument.</p> + +<p>"Please answer yes or no."</p> + +<p>"No—I mean yes."</p> + +<p>"You heard the explosion?"</p> + +<p>"Heard it? Why——"</p> + +<p>"Where did it appear to come from?"</p> + +<p>"It came from Prof. Arnold's study, as plain as your voice comes from +you, but I don't see——"</p> + +<p>"That will do," said the district attorney, handing the witness over to +Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"What do you say to my sketch of this Hebe?" asked Ecks.</p> + +<p>"The drawing would be creditable in a gingerbread doll," answered Wye.</p> + +<p>They were a sorry pair of lookers-on, both of them, appearing to regard +the whole panorama of creation as a sort of arsenal of happy +suggestions, especially established by Providence for the embellishment +of their forthcoming works. But Hans Heiderman in his back seat didn't +think she appeared homely at all in her red-checked dress and flaming +hair, done up in Circassian coils. Of course he was looking at the soul +of the girl, which was better than gold, and which neither Ecks nor Wye, +for all their wise smiles, the least bit understood.</p> + +<p>"You are rather accurate in your observations of time?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I'm noted for that. I haven't looked at the clock for an hour, +but I could tell you what time it is now."</p> + +<p>"Shut your eyes and tell me."</p> + +<p>"It is—about seventeen minutes past 4."</p> + +<p>"Seventeen and a half," announced Shagarach, taking out his watch. Every +man in the room, except the judges, had done likewise, while the ladies +all studied the clock.</p> + +<p>"Very good. At what time would you fix the explosion in the study?"</p> + +<p>"About 3:34."</p> + +<p>"One minute earlier, then, than District Chief Wotherspoon. Now, Miss +Wesner, do you recollect anything about a peddler in a green cart that +used to come to Prof. Arnold's?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that peddler. Yes, indeed, I——"</p> + +<p>"How long had he been vending his goods through Cazenove street?"</p> + +<p>"About a month. I know I never——"</p> + +<p>"Had you seen him before that?"</p> + +<p>"Never saw him before in my life, but——"</p> + +<p>"How often did he come by?"</p> + +<p>"Two or three times a week."</p> + +<p>She had almost given up the attempt to work in her explanations +edgewise. The rapid volley of questions prevented all elaboration.</p> + +<p>"How often did he stop at Prof. Arnold's?"</p> + +<p>"Almost every time."</p> + +<p>"Was it Bertha who came to the door?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; it was Ellen generally. She was the cook, you know; got $4 a +week, but she wasn't a patch on Bertha just the same."</p> + +<p>"When did he stop coming with his—vegetables, was it, he sold?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; vegetables, and once potted plants."</p> + +<p>"And when did he stop coming?"</p> + +<p>"Just before the Arnold fire."</p> + +<p>"You never saw him after the fire—as a peddler, I mean?"</p> + +<p>Shagarach had not yet received an answer from the superintendent of +Woodlawn cemetery, and was still in the dark about his assailant. But +from the evidence he had he was satisfied that he could prove a +connection with Harry Arnold.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; not as a peddler."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY.</h3> + + +<p>So McCausland was right, after all. The oaf had just been captured by +the local police of Woodlawn, and inquiry had vindicated the inspector's +surmise.</p> + +<p>Far back in our story there was mention of a half-witted brother of the +Lacy girls, who jumped from the Harmon building and were killed. Nature +had made one of her capriciously unequal divisions of talent in this +family, gifting the daughters with all graces and allurements of +character, but misshaping their elder brother, Peter, both in body and +mind. And Fate, instead of rectifying the hard allotment by the merciful +removal of the oaf, had deprived the household instead of its fairer +inmates, leaving the monster to flourish on, sleeping, breathing, +performing all animal functions healthily, but reflecting only sorrow +into the heart of the mother who bore him.</p> + +<p>The death of his sisters had converted this harmless driveller into a +maniac, nursing one deadly thought. At the Lacy common table the case of +Robert Floyd was, of course, followed with keen interest, especially +since the shyster, Slack, had persuaded certain advisory relatives, and +through them the mother, that some compensation in money for the loss of +her girls might result from an appeal to the courts. Shagarach's name, +as the defender, the possible savior of Floyd, this wrecker of their +household peace, had impressed itself on the addled intelligence of the +oaf, and being sufficiently taught to read and endowed with the cunning +of his sort, he had begun with the incoherent letters to the lawyer, and +ended with three assaults which had so nearly cost him his life. Floyd, +behind the prison bars, was beyond his reach; but if the criminal +records of the time had included any attempt to force a way into a jail +cell it is probable that the maniac would have essayed an imitation of +this. For, as McCausland had keenly noted, each of his attacks had been +made under suggestion from the daily chronicles.</p> + +<p>Since the fire he had wandered away from home—though previously a +devoted house-haunter—probably making the rude hut in the forest his +abode and indulging his mania amid that forest solitude in long fits of +brooding. Just why he chose this habitation the mother could not say, +unless it was to be near his sister's grave. From time to time he had +returned, always to beg a little money or some articles of necessity, +and when questioned on his doings he had manifested a temper which he +was rarely known to exhibit before.</p> + +<p>The mystery of his identity with the peddler was explained by Mrs. Lacy +when Shagarach asked her the whereabouts of her son during June. It +seems there was a street vender named Hotaling, who added to his revenue +in summer time by hiring young men to exploit the outlying suburbs with +spring produce. Strictly speaking, a license would be required, even +though their sales were made beyond the city limits. But Hotaling +dispensed with this formality, and the teamsters he employed were +unsteady fellows, of the least savory appearance, whom he rewarded with +a commission, keeping their accounts correct by the terror by which he +personally inspired them. Among Hotaling's possessions was a green cart, +and the driver selected to occupy its seat had been Peter Lacy, who had +wit enough to harness a horse and make change (indeed, he was very +shrewd at a bargain), and who accepted a pittance as recompense. The +simpleton's district had been Woodlawn. But his road from the city +market took him close to Cazenove street.</p> + +<p>When, the next morning, the district attorney announced that Harry +Arnold and Bertha would testify, closing the case for the prosecution, +Shagarach knew that his time was at hand.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hodgkins has attested the existence of a will and the accused +himself at the preliminary hearing admitted knowing that he was +virtually disinherited. We have, however, thought it well to strengthen +this vital point by calling a witness who will testify to the same +admission made upon another occasion. Mr. Harry Arnold."</p> + +<p>"You are a nephew of the late Prof. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; his brother's son," answered Harry. He was just the least bit +nervous, his glances wandering from Shagarach's face to his mother's and +then resting with a brighter expression on that of Rosalie March, who +had come into the court-room to-day for the first time. The wild rose in +her cheeks was blooming warmly through the gossamer she wore to hide +them and her blue eyes were lifted trustfully to her lover's. Once they +caught Emily's and she bowed with a smile. Emily returned the bow, but +her heart was too full for smiling. She was sorry Rosalie had come that +morning, for Shagarach's manner told her that he was condensing his +thoughts in the resolve to wring the truth from Harry.</p> + +<p>"And a cousin of the accused?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Your relations have always been pleasant, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"We have never had any permanent falling-out."</p> + +<p>"And are so still?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, on my part. I hope with all my heart the jury will find him +innocent," answered Harry, with every appearance of candor.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever had any conversation with him on the subject of your +uncle's will?"</p> + +<p>"Only once."</p> + +<p>"When was that?"</p> + +<p>"Within a week after the fire."</p> + +<p>"And where?"</p> + +<p>"At the county jail."</p> + +<p>"It was while the accused was in custody of the sheriff, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"How did you happen to visit the accused at that time?"</p> + +<p>"I was his only living kinsman. My visit was one of sympathy."</p> + +<p>"And what statement did the accused make regarding his knowledge of the +will?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I believe he owned incidentally that he was disinherited, but +everybody knew it then. It was all over the town. So was I, it seems, +for that matter," added Harry.</p> + +<p>"Everybody's knowledge is nobody's knowledge. We cannot take things for +granted because rumor has spread them broadcast. We want your specific +testimony that the accused acknowledged having learned from his uncle +that he was to receive only an insignificant fraction of the fortune +which all his life he had been expecting."</p> + +<p>"That is my recollection of it."</p> + +<p>"Was there any further conversation on the subject?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; it came up incidentally."</p> + +<p>Shagarach paused a moment before beginning the cross-examination. Harry +eyed him and during every second of the pause the witness' color +mounted. Something in the lawyer's appearance still confused him. "This +was a visit of sympathy?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then you have seen the accused frequently since his imprisonment, I +presume?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, I have not."</p> + +<p>"When did you see him last previous to yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not since the first week."</p> + +<p>"Not since this visit of sympathy, do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"That was the last time."</p> + +<p>"Then all your sympathy expended itself in that single visit?"</p> + +<p>"No, not exactly."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you renew it?"</p> + +<p>"Rob and I didn't part good friends."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? And what was the cause of your disagreement?"</p> + +<p>"Some thoughtless words of mine."</p> + +<p>"Then you were at fault?"</p> + +<p>"Wholly. I have been sorry since."</p> + +<p>"But you have kept your repentance to yourself until now, have you not?"</p> + +<p>"Well——"</p> + +<p>"And volunteered to testify against your cousin?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I was subpoenaed."</p> + +<p>"From what quarter do you suppose these rumors of Floyd's disinheritance +arose?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Consider that answer carefully."</p> + +<p>"I have done so. I don't know. I read it in the papers."</p> + +<p>"You knew Floyd was disinherited before your visit to his cell?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"You knew you yourself were disinherited before the fire?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"You knew a will had been made?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"From whom?"</p> + +<p>"From my mother."</p> + +<p>"Your mother and yourself share most items of family interest between +you?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally we do. We have no secrets from each other."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it your mother who first informed Mr. McCausland that Robert had +been disinherited?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Yet you read the papers, you said."</p> + +<p>"I must have skipped that item."</p> + +<p>"How did Mrs. Arnold know this fact?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You are very rich, Mr. Arnold?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are considered wealthy."</p> + +<p>"So rich that I presume you were indifferent whether Prof. Arnold added +to your fortunes or not by a bequest of his property?"</p> + +<p>"He may have thought we didn't need anything more."</p> + +<p>"How large a stud of horses do you keep?"</p> + +<p>"In all? Only six."</p> + +<p>"How many servants?"</p> + +<p>"Six."</p> + +<p>"For a family of two?"</p> + +<p>"My mother and myself. But then, we entertain a good deal."</p> + +<p>"You have a summer residence at Hillsborough?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And a house at Woodlawn?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"The supplies for your table are not generally purchased from a common +street vender, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I don't attend to the commissariat."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't you suppose they would come from market?"</p> + +<p>"Game and such things, yes."</p> + +<p>"And greens?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"When did you first hear of the burning of Prof. Arnold's house?"</p> + +<p>"That's hard to say at this distance of time."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would try to recollect."</p> + +<p>"Why, I think the morning afterward—Sunday morning. Yes, it was in the +Sunday papers. I remember now."</p> + +<p>"You remember distinctly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"What paper?"</p> + +<p>"The Beacon. We take no other."</p> + +<p>The Beacon was the paper upon which Robert was employed, thus forming a +curious bond of communication between the two Arnold households.</p> + +<p>"You were not in town, then, that afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Positive of that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; I was ill—or, rather, just convalescing from a fever. Dr. +Whipple called, I believe, to see me that very Saturday."</p> + +<p>"In the forenoon or afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Afternoon."</p> + +<p>"About what hour?"</p> + +<p>"About 3:45."</p> + +<p>"And this fire started at 3:30?"</p> + +<p>"I heard a witness say so in the testimony yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Of your own knowledge you couldn't say when it started?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>Harry was red as fire during all these rapid questions, some apparently +aimless, some sharply pointed.</p> + +<p>"A man could not start that fire in Cazenove street at 3:30 and reach +your house in Woodlawn at 3:45, could he?"</p> + +<p>"Not very well."</p> + +<p>"He might, however, start the fire at 3:28 and reach your house at +3:48?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Harry. "Twenty minutes isn't long."</p> + +<p>"Isn't there a train which leaves the Southern depot at 3:29?"</p> + +<p>"I never use the Southern depot."</p> + +<p>"Never?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not enough to know the trains."</p> + +<p>"I have not said that you did, Mr. Arnold. It happens, however, that +there was a train—an express train—which left the Southern depot at +3:29 on June 28, arriving in Woodlawn at 3:45. A person starting from +Prof. Arnold's house at 3:28 could have caught that train, could he +not?"</p> + +<p>"In one minute? Yes, by hurrying."</p> + +<p>"And, leaving the train at Woodlawn at 3:45, he could have arrived in +your house at 3:48, could he not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, by walking briskly."</p> + +<p>"Across the fields?"</p> + +<p>"Across the fields."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it 3:48 when Dr. Whipple visited you on that Saturday of the +fire?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I could not swear within a minute or two."</p> + +<p>"But a minute or two is momentous at times—when a train is to be taken, +for example."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"What were you doing all Saturday afternoon before the doctor arrived?"</p> + +<p>"Why"—Harry hesitated—"I was ill in my chamber."</p> + +<p>"Reading?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Killing time lazily."</p> + +<p>"You have frequently to do that, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Sir?"</p> + +<p>"You have no orderly programme arranged for every day?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it varies."</p> + +<p>"But never includes any useful occupation, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I can afford to enjoy life."</p> + +<p>"You are rich, you said. How fortunate to be rich! The great problem of +life then is solved for you by the drawing of a quarterly check?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not exactly."</p> + +<p>"If you require money, however, you simply ask for it and it comes forth +like the genii of the lamp?"</p> + +<p>"I can usually meet what expenses I incur."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember a man named Reddy?"</p> + +<p>"Reddy?" repeated Harry, coloring a shade more and glancing over at +Rosalie.</p> + +<p>"Reddy," repeated Shagarach, insistently.</p> + +<p>"What is his business?"</p> + +<p>"He is dead," said the lawyer, and the witness knew that evasion was +futile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I knew that Reddy—slightly."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember forfeiting several thousand dollars to him one evening +in a certain room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Harry was driven to the wall. He set his teeth, and now, finally at bay, +his spirit seemed to return.</p> + +<p>"Where did that money come from?"</p> + +<p>"From my mother."</p> + +<p>"And from whom did she get it?"</p> + +<p>Harry hesitated.</p> + +<p>"From one Simon Rabofsky, a money-lender, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She had sold her family jewels, had she not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She kept you in funds?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but she knew nothing of my habits."</p> + +<p>"Then you lied to her to obtain money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you lied to the court awhile ago when you said that you were rich?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; it was only a temporary embarrassment."</p> + +<p>"Have the jewels been redeemed?"</p> + +<p>"I believe not."</p> + +<p>"Do rich people generally pawn their family heirlooms and permit them to +be sold?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no."</p> + +<p>"Then you were so circumstanced that your disinheritance under your +uncle's will might seriously incommode you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, his money might afford us relief."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LV.</h2> + +<h3>WEATHERVANES VEER.</h3> + + +<p>"Do you know Ellen Greeley?"</p> + +<p>"I did know her slightly."</p> + +<p>"Never corresponded with her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no."</p> + +<p>"You have a key to your own house, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"And can slip out and in unobserved?"</p> + +<p>"If I choose to."</p> + +<p>"Which door do you generally use going into your uncle's house?"</p> + +<p>"The front door always."</p> + +<p>"And in coming out?"</p> + +<p>"The same."</p> + +<p>"You knew, however, that there was a side door opening into the +passageway?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How long are you back from Lenox?"</p> + +<p>"Two weeks."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember an evening entertainment there at Mr. March's?"</p> + +<p>"The purple tea? Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember falling into a species of trance on that occasion?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember what was on your right hand when you awoke?"</p> + +<p>The witness drew a deep breath before he answered. He no longer had the +heart to look toward Rosalie, though her eyes were turned with stony +fixity upon his face and she had even lifted her veil.</p> + +<p>Shagarach's manner was now as imperious, as fierce, as on that memorable +evening.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Harry; "it was a lemon-colored glove."</p> + +<p>"Whose glove?"</p> + +<p>"Mine."</p> + +<p>"A lost glove?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"A right-hand glove?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Where had you lost it?"</p> + +<p>Harry hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Will you look about the room and tell me if you see any person besides +your mother whom you saw on that Saturday afternoon of the fire?"</p> + +<p>Walter Riley had recovered by this time from Kennedy's caning and +occupied a front seat among the spectators. But it was Rosalie's eye +that Harry met—met and hastily avoided. Had she seen him after all that +afternoon when he crossed Bond street from the burning house? Would this +remorseless inquisitor contradict his denial with the affirmation of the +woman he loved?</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it you instead of Floyd who paid a cash fare to Conductor +Checkerberry on the 3:29 train and whose voice he recognized here +yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Harry, "it was."</p> + +<p>"Then you had heard of the fire before Sunday morning?"</p> + +<p>"I had."</p> + +<p>"And you lied again when you testified to the contrary?"</p> + +<p>"I am sick of lying. Let me tell you the truth."</p> + +<p>"It is the truth I am searching for."</p> + +<p>"You have tripped and tangled me," said Harry, speaking slowly, "so that +my actions when I make a clean breast of them may look worse than they +were. I wish I had told you the truth from the beginning. I was a fool +to hide it at all.</p> + +<p>"I did leave Woodlawn that Saturday for my uncle's house on the 3 +o'clock train and returned on the 3:29 from the city. I had been wrought +up by Mr. Hodgkins' visit of the night before. He was going to open the +safe at 2:30 the next day and the will would be read at last. If I were +disinherited I should be absolutely penniless, dependent on my mother, +and her property, I knew, was encumbered."</p> + +<p>"Your mother, then, was your father's sole heir?" asked the district +attorney.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Encumbered largely through your extravagance?" added Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Through my extravagance. I was on pins and needles, too nervous to +sleep, to eat—the servants can corroborate that—until this should be +settled; too nervous even to await my mother's return."</p> + +<p>"She had driven in to meet Mr. Hodgkins?"</p> + +<p>"She had. It must have been nearly 3:25 when I arrived and the +appointment of Hodgkins was at 2:30."</p> + +<p>"You took the Southern line?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I heard the train coming. I acted on the impulse, flung out of +the house and headed it off."</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"I walked toward my uncle's up Broad street, entered the passageway, +mounted the steps and found the side door open."</p> + +<p>"Open?"</p> + +<p>"I mean unlocked, not ajar. There was no one stirring in the lower +floor. I wondered whether Hodgkins had come and the safe was opened. +Then I went upstairs to the study."</p> + +<p>"Your glove in your left hand?"</p> + +<p>"As I remember it, yes. I forgot to mention the barking of the dog +upstairs. When I got to the study door the barking was louder and the +dog seemed to be pawing at the door inside. Smoke was streaming out +through the keyhole and I could hear a loud crackling inside. I looked +at my watch"—here Harry's delivery grew broken and he stuttered over +the words—"I looked at my watch and saw that I had time to catch the +3:29. So I ran out the way I had come, slammed the door, knocked over +some boys that were blocking up the alleyway, crossed Broad street and +dove into the little passage called Marketman's row, which opens at the +other end opposite the door of the depot.</p> + +<p>"The 3:29 train was just steaming out when I caught the last car. At +Woodlawn I jumped off on the unused side of the station and crossed the +meadows to my house. Dr. Whipple had just come and had been directed to +my room. I doubt if even the servants knew of my departure and arrival."</p> + +<p>There was a pause when Harry finished. He looked straight at Shagarach, +flush-cheeked and ashamed, but with all the Arnold boldness.</p> + +<p>"You have left out the vital part of your story," said the lawyer, when +it appeared that the witness had nothing more to add. "Why did you fly +from a stream of smoke issuing through a keyhole?"</p> + +<p>"There were two reasons, shameful both of them, but I ask you to +remember that I had recently risen from a fever and that I was greatly +excited at the time. In the first place, the image of the safe in that +study had haunted me for days."</p> + +<p>"Although you have testified that you did not know you were +disinherited. Is that another lie?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; it is the truth. I had absolutely no knowledge of the terms of +my uncle's will."</p> + +<p>"Then why were you apprehensive? Why did the image of the safe in which +it was guarded haunt you?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because I feared what actually did happen. I feared that he +had bequeathed my share of his property elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"I knew that the destruction of the safe would set me back to my +position as heir, would assure me $5,000,000. It could do me no harm. +That idea flashed through me as I stood on the landing, with my hand on +the knob. And then my own position! I might be accused of setting the +fire for that very purpose. This was the thought that led me to flee. I +remember looking at my watch, as I said. The 3:29 train would place me +in safety almost before the fire was under way."</p> + +<p>"And as a matter of fact, you were back in Woodlawn almost before the +first stream of water was played upon the burning building?"</p> + +<p>"I reached there at 3:45."</p> + +<p>"You didn't stop to liberate the dog?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"You didn't think it your duty to save property and life by checking the +flames or at least giving the alarm?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"You simply wanted your uncle's money."</p> + +<p>"I wanted my uncle's money."</p> + +<p>The gathering indignation of the audience expressed itself at this +avowal by a sharp, spontaneous hiss. But the prisoner only bit his lips. +The officers rapped for order and Chief Justice Playfair arose.</p> + +<p>"I cannot find it in my heart to rebuke this manifestation, unseemly +though it be in a temple of justice. For I knew Benjamin Arnold for many +years. His cheek at the age of nearly fourscore had the rosy flush of a +boy's and his unimpaired vigor was a living attestation of the pure +youth and honorable manhood through which he had passed. He deserved a +better return from his brother's son than the avaricious greed for his +riches which the witness has confessed."</p> + +<p>"Your honor," said Harry, "I have not made myself understood. It is not +for me to parry your honor's rebuke. I have richly deserved it. I have +been selfish and a seeker of my own pleasure. But it would be unjust to +my better self, which is now struggling to the surface, if I did not +disown the entertainment of such feelings now. I am on the stand under +oath and I told you the simple truth about my motives at that critical +moment."</p> + +<p>"I find it hard," replied the chief justice, "to understand such a frame +of mind. If you were present and consented to the fire, as you admit, by +failing to check the flames or give the alarm, then it appears to me +that you are morally if not legally a self-confessed accessory after the +fact."</p> + +<p>"The explanation can only deepen my blame, your honor. I itched for +money at that time. Yet all that I received flowed from me faster than +it came. I had exhausted my mother's income, trenched upon her credit, +borrowed of my friends, and still I craved more. I was a victim of the +passion for games of chance."</p> + +<p>"Then you were capable of the gravest crimes," said Chief Justice +Playfair.</p> + +<p>"The fact that the witness took the 3 o'clock train when the will was +supposed to have been read at 2:30," said the district attorney, "seems +to me evidence that he had not contemplated a crime in coming."</p> + +<p>"I do not charge that he contemplated a crime when he started from the +house," answered Shagarach, promptly, "but I do charge that, finding an +opportunity to hand, Harry Arnold, who by his own confession was present +at the door of his uncle's study at the time this fire started, yielded +to an evil impulse, ignited the loose papers lying about and fled."</p> + +<p>"Harry Arnold has, indeed, been traced to the study door," retorted the +district attorney, "but Robert Floyd was inside the room."</p> + +<p>"Then we must bring Harry Arnold across the threshold," said Shagarach, +resuming the cross-examination.</p> + +<p>"Did you not know when you entered the house that the safe was unopened, +owing to Hodgkins' detention?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I knew nothing about that. When I went I expected to meet +Hodgkins there."</p> + +<p>"Then what good would it do you to see your uncle's study burned if it +contained only an empty safe?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know whether the will was in the safe or not."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't know whether the will disinherited you or not?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"But, acting on the possibility that there might be a will there, which +might disinherit you, you ran away and left the house to burn?"</p> + +<p>"It was contemptible, I admit."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you met your mother that afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Not after she left Woodlawn."</p> + +<p>"What time was that?"</p> + +<p>"Before 2 o'clock."</p> + +<p>"She left in a carriage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; one of the family carriages."</p> + +<p>"And arrived at your uncle's toward three?"</p> + +<p>"She has told me so."</p> + +<p>"Leaving there a little after three?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"She might have driven around, then, for fifteen minutes and returned by +the Southern depot just in time to meet you?"</p> + +<p>"She might have done so."</p> + +<p>"And inform you of Hodgkins' detention?"</p> + +<p>"She might have done so, but whether you believe me or not, I never saw +my mother until she came home that evening."</p> + +<p>"Or any messenger from her?"</p> + +<p>"Or any messenger."</p> + +<p>"Did you set the fire?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did Floyd set it?"</p> + +<p>"I refuse to believe that he did."</p> + +<p>"Then who did? It must have been one or the other of you two."</p> + +<p>"Or both of them," whispered Inspector McCausland to John Davidson, but +the marshal shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is a mystery I cannot solve," said Harry Arnold.</p> + +<p>"Let us help you, then. You testified before that you never corresponded +with Ellen Greeley?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I correspond with the girl?"</p> + +<p>"In order that she might sell you what information she could overhear +about your uncle's will."</p> + +<p>Shagarach brought his face closer to Harry's and his eyes seemed to +blaze like searchlights, illuminating the depths of the young man's +soul.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly read that aloud?" The lawyer handed his witness a +letter. Harry glanced it over curiously, then read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"'The peddler has not come for two days, so I send you this by a +trustworthy messenger. As I wrote you in my last, the professor +said in the study: "Harry gets his deserts." That was all I could +hear. Only he and Mr. Robert talked for a long time afterward. The +will is in the safe in the study. If I hear anything more I will +let you know, and please send me the money you promised me soon.'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Whose handwriting is that?" asked Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"I never saw it before."</p> + +<p>"It is unsigned, unaddressed and undated, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Presumably, then, a letter in which both sender and receiver desired to +conceal their names?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. I cannot offer an opinion as to that."</p> + +<p>"Don't you know that letter was written by Ellen Greeley to you?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I never received such a letter."</p> + +<p>"I am aware that you never received it. But you received the previous +letters referred to in this case, did you not? You received the letter +stating that 'Harry gets his deserts,' meaning obviously that he gets +nothing, did you not?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I have never received a shred of communication from Ellen +Greeley."</p> + +<p>"Do you know the peddler referred to in this letter?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>At this point Mrs. Arnold, who had sat through each of the three +previous days' sessions, arose hurriedly and passed out. Shagarach just +caught a glimpse of a lady's back departing, but the vacant seat told +its story. He paused in his examination of Harry. It was Mrs. Arnold who +had put McCausland on Floyd's track, Mrs. Arnold who had stolen Harry's +photographs from Jacob, Mrs. Arnold who had driven up to the house in a +carriage, Mrs. Arnold who would naturally deal, through her servants, +with a street vender calling at the house.</p> + +<p>"A subpoena blank!" he cried suddenly to Aronson. His pen flew over the +paper, filling in names and other details.</p> + +<p>"Serve that at any cost," he said to his assistant, and Aronson smooched +the ink, so eager was he to obey.</p> + +<p>"You do not know the peddler?" said Shagarach, taking up the +cross-examination.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"You never saw a peddler in a green cart that used to call at your house +in Woodlawn during the month of June?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge. Of course, there are peddlers everywhere and some +of them have green carts."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you regard it as a peculiar circumstance if a particular +peddler began calling at your house and your uncle's house about the +time your uncle made his will and stopped his visits after the fire?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I should attach importance to that circumstance. It +might be accidental."</p> + +<p>"But he might also be a go-between."</p> + +<p>"Between whom?"</p> + +<p>"Between you and Ellen Greeley."</p> + +<p>"I never conducted any intrigue of any kind with Ellen Greeley."</p> + +<p>"Did you know the man who was captured here yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't he the peddler referred to in Ellen Greeley's letter?"</p> + +<p>"The letter you handed me? I do not know."</p> + +<p>"Is this one of your lies or the truth?"</p> + +<p>"This is the truth."</p> + +<p>"How are we to distinguish between your lying and truth-telling?"</p> + +<p>Harry was silent.</p> + +<p>"The only means of distinction thus far has been our own superior proof +of the facts."</p> + +<p>"I can only give you my word. If you choose to doubt it I am helpless."</p> + +<p>"Will you please explain how your mother, who has left the court-room, I +perceive, was able to inform Mr. McCausland that Robert Floyd was +disinherited by his uncle and thus guide the finger of suspicion toward +an innocent man from you, the incendiary?"</p> + +<p>"I had no hand or finger in setting that fire. Circumstances tell +against me. I have debased my own word, ruined my credibility, by a +series of perjuries, all flowing from one initial folly. I can now +understand my cousin's position—the shame of being misunderstood, +unjustly suspected, though I am not fortified, as I feel that he is, by +a consciousness of stainless honor throughout the affair. If he is +guilty, then I am, and I ask—or, rather, I insist—that you shall place +me under the same restriction of liberty as my cousin. Let me sleep +under the same roof, endure the same privations, until he is acquitted +and set free. For if to have had wrongdoing, ever so remotely, in one's +heart is guilt, then I am the guiltier of us two."</p> + +<p>"The sheriff, I think, will provide you a lodging," said Shagarach, +coolly, and after a conference between the chief justice, the district +attorney and the lawyer it was announced that a warrant for Harry +Arnold's arrest would be granted and that he would spend the night in a +cell.</p> + +<p>"There are still several points against the prisoner not met," said the +district attorney, when Shagarach moved for Robert's discharge.</p> + +<p>"It is a new doctrine that a man should be held because there is +reasonable doubt of his innocence," said the lawyer. But the district +attorney was rigid and the chief justice thought it best, since there +was only one more witness for the prosecution, to let the jury decide +upon the facts, which were properly their province.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Rosalie," said Harry, humbly, as he passed her, going out, +and her eyes, though they were full of mortification, disillusion, +rebuke, told that she forgave him because she loved him.</p> + +<p>"Arnold or Floyd?" was the alternative on the lips of the multitude +surging homeward after that dramatic day, and Robert for the first time +was actually cheered when he left the courthouse.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though we might have two hangings instead of one," remarked +Inspector McCausland to a reporter.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice the expression on that woman who went out?" said Ecks to +Wye.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Guilt," said Ecks, shuffling his notes into his pocket. Then Emily saw +Rosalie March's beautiful face soiled with tears and hastened down to +comfort her.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she said. "Don't fear for Harry. Nobody in the world set +that fire. It just caught——"</p> + +<p>But why importune readers with Emily's theory, when they have doubtless +already guessed it in detail?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LVI.</h2> + +<h3>MARK TIME, MARCH!</h3> + + +<p>Now that Robert's acquittal was almost assured, Emily's pity began to +overflow toward Harry Arnold and Rosalie, whose position was exactly her +own of the day before. For the vox populi had generally determined on +Harry's guilt, though there were not wanting some who, like the father +in the parable, were disposed to welcome the brilliant prodigal with +lavish entertainment, freely extending the forgiveness he implored, +while slighting the steadfastly loyal son who had never wandered from +the path of virtue. This was poor recompense to Robert for his +summer-long immurement, but he was put together of a substance +impervious to the acid actions of criticism or neglect—the oaken fiber +of the English Arnolds.</p> + +<p>In all quarters curiosity was active about the defense. It was said by +some that the prosecution had broken down, or might break down at any +minute, and even if the last reluctant victim were haled up by Bigelow +to the shambles, where Shagarach stood, ax in hand, awaiting her, that +it would be hammering on a driven nail to put on the long array of +witnesses who had been summoned in behalf of the accused. Nevertheless +the newspapers were at pains to worm out the names of these witnesses +and to diet the public with prophetic outlines of their testimony.</p> + +<p>The gist of it all was that Shagarach meant to clinch his client's +defense by building up a case against Harry.</p> + +<p>Of course Emily found it hard to communicate her own confidence to +Rosalie March, although Bertha was to take the stand the following +morning and her theory would then (as she believed) receive a triumphant +demonstration. What made Harry's face fall more bitter was that the date +of his espousal to the beautiful actress had just been given to the +world. From Rosalie's hard glance at Shagarach, Emily knew there was as +much blame in her heart for the lawyer as for her lover. And Rosalie was +not the only girl who would have ransomed Harry Arnold, perjurer, +self-seeker, gambler, as he owned himself to have been, with her life, +if such a price should be asked.</p> + +<p>"Are they sisters?" asked the thoughtless, misled by their golden hair, +when the two beautiful girls went out together, leaving Mme. Violet +behind. But a student of faces would never have fallen into such an +error. One placid and aloof, even toward the audiences whose favor she +courted, the other impulsive and approachable, throwing out tentacles of +sympathy toward every human being with whom she came in contact, they +supplemented rather than reflected each other; otherwise they would +hardly have been drawn together so strongly, and made such a concord of +friendliness.</p> + +<p>Several surprises awaited Emily when she reached home. The first and +pleasantest was an envelope, surcharged in the upper left-hand corner +with the name of a certain magazine. This she opened with trembling +fingers, for it was not quite three weeks since she mailed to the +editor, unsigned, Robert's article on, "Proposals for a Consumers' +Trust," that fruit of his prison reflections which Dr. Silsby had found +so unpalatable. When an oblong slip of paper, perforated at the margin, +slipped out, she knew it was a check; and the editor's letter was very +urgent that "so striking a contribution should not be given to the world +without its author's signature." Here was the beginning of a career for +her sweetheart. She looked forward to the time when his qualities and +talents should be recognized, and she herself perhaps be pointed out as +the wife of Floyd, the famous writer, or thinker, or worker, or +whatsoever other name they chose to give to the best, the truest and the +most abused of men. The check, too, was of comforting value, and, since +she was a shrewd little housekeeper withal, this discovery did not abate +one particle of Emily's joy.</p> + +<p>And yet, so little was she a lover of lucre for its own sake, the very +first item on which her eye lighted in the evening paper, though it +meant a money loss which the whole cash box of the Forum, converted into +checks, could not make good, evoked almost a scream of delight from +Emily and sent her flying into the kitchen where her mother was steeping +the tea. The good lady wiped her honest hands on her apron and with a +"Do tell!" fingered the Evening Beacon, which to-day is skimmed and +tomorrow cast into the oven, as respectfully as if it had been a fancy +valentine; then read, with Jennie, a slip of 14, on tiptoe leaning over +her shoulder, that Judge Dunder had finally decided to uphold the late +Prof. Arnold's will. Even Shagarach had hardly expected this decision. +For Judge Dunder was a confirmed devotee of legal technique and it had +been supposed that nothing less than a verbatim copy of a destroyed will +would be sustained by him.</p> + +<p>But the main clauses of the will had certainly been reproduced, with an +abundance of circumstantial detail. The only hiatus was a remote +possibility. There may have been some smaller bequests that could not be +traced. Apparently Judge Dunder had in this case resolved to wink a +little at chicane and decide for justice in the broader sense.</p> + +<p>"Harry Arnold may have to do something to justify his existence now," +said Mrs. Barlow after supper to Emily. She had a prejudice against wild +young men.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rosalie has enough for two," answered Emily, who was standing +before the mirror putting her hat on for a visit to Walter Riley.</p> + +<p>The first sight that met her eye when she reached the sidewalk was a +squad of salvation army soldiers, with Serena Lamb at their head, +parading through the street, chanting their invitation to sinners. +Serena held her tambourine high in air and her shrill voice dominated +the chorus like that of a precentor in the kirk. But the exercise seemed +to lack its usual spirit this evening. Was it because nobody took any +particular notice of the group? Curiosity about them was wearying itself +threadbare, and even the toddling urchins no longer gathered at the +drumbeat as they used to. Emily had often admired the devotion of these +sisters, but, looking at this unnoticed and discouraged band, she +wondered if the antagonism of the multitude were not in truth the very +sustenance of their zeal. Might not all their heroic energy exhaust +itself, like the nerve of a boxer, compelled to waste his blows in the +air, if the atmosphere of opposition should change to one of apathy?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LVII.</h2> + +<h3>A STERN CHASE.</h3> + + +<p>"At any cost!" The last words of his master tingled in Saul Aronson's +ears when he left the court-room with the summons in his hand. Ever +since the disclosures of Serena Lamb he had been more than usually +abashed in his demeanor. For in some measure he felt that it was he who +had brought this threatened catastrophe upon their cause. Here was the +opportunity to retrieve his misstep. He would prove his fidelity and +serve the writ "at any cost."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arnold had secured a few minutes' start, but Aronson did not doubt +his ability to overtake her. She would probably call a cab, since she +was an all-day attendant at the sittings and it was unlikely her family +carriage would be waiting for her. Impatiently he rang the elevator up, +and then, deciding just as it arrived that it was quicker to walk down, +balked the boy by tacking off toward the staircase and descending it two +steps at a time. When he reached the exit, the square was deserted. But +just around the corner, like the whisk of a vanishing tail, he caught a +glimpse of a rapidly driven cab. After this he sped, down the crowded +main thoroughfare, dodging the pedestrians as well as he could, with his +eyes on the distant vehicle, and yawing wildly at last into the arms of +a man who stood waiting on the curbstone.</p> + +<p>"Where in the——" but the man was a herdic driver and his language may +as well be left to the imagination. Aronson saw the badge on his hat; +that was enough.</p> + +<p>"Catch that carriage," he said, "and I'll give you $2."</p> + +<p>"Jump in," cried the driver. The door was locked in a jiffy and +presently they were bumping over the cobblestones.</p> + +<p>"Stop there!" shouted the burly policeman who used to escort Emily so +gallantly over the street crossing.</p> + +<p>"It's a runaway!" cried the herdic driver, giving himself the lie by a +savage snap of his whip. The officer was in no trim for a spurt, so he +fell behind puffing. Still they bumped on, till Aronson's anxiety +mastered him and he rapped at the window for attention. The driver +stupidly reined up.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" cried the passenger, and the whip-lash circled once more with a +crack. They were out on the long bridge to Oxford now, and the fugitive +could not be far ahead.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" shouted the driver. The jehu in front turned his head.</p> + +<p>"Haul up!" he hailed.</p> + +<p>The driver in front obeyed and the two herdics were soon abreast, +Aronson getting a dusty toss in his impatience to get out. As he picked +himself up, a great fat man put his head out of the other herdic window +and began to ask the cause of the detention.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Arnold in there?" inquired Aronson, putting his head into the +herdic, just by the fat passenger's.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold? What Mrs. Arnold? Take your head out, you impudent,—drive +away, you——" cried the fat passenger, settling back on the cushions +which he almost filled with the breadth of his back. Aronson was left +standing alone on the road, puzzling his wits what to do.</p> + +<p>"You lost the right carriage," he said.</p> + +<p>"I followed the one you pointed out," answered the driver, surlily.</p> + +<p>"Well, take me back."</p> + +<p>"Where's my $2?" asked No. 99, and Aronson had to pay him this sum, as +well as an advance fare for the ride back, before he would turn his +horse's head. Going in town, the animal made up for time gained by a +heartbreaking leisureliness of pace. No one could blame the poor hack +horse. There had been some attempt to make him look respectable by +docking his tail, but it was no more successful than a silk hat on a +prize-fighter, designed to foster the same illusion.</p> + +<p>It was just 5:40 when Aronson reached the Northern depot and the train +for Hillsborough had left at 5:38. He had the misery of knowing that +Mrs. Arnold was probably well on her way to her summer residence by this +time, and that there was no train earlier than 7 o'clock. In the interim +he bought a ticket, supped, reflected, counted his money and studied the +subpoena.</p> + +<p>A village bell was tolling 8 when Aronson stepped from the passenger car +out on the platform of the Hillsborough station. They had left the +sunset behind them in their eastward ride and the country village was +dark.</p> + +<p>"I want a carriage to Mrs. Arnold's house," he said to the +station-master.</p> + +<p>"Hacks are all in now," answered the official behind the grating, +turning to his books. But he underrated the persistency of his customer.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you $1.50 for a team," said Aronson. The suggestion worked +magically and in less than an hour he was let down before the veranda of +the Arnold mansion. A ruby porch-light flooded him with a kind of +delighted confusion. How mild and solemn the country is at night! How +suggestive of grassy comforts the humming of the crickets! All the +shepherd that lay deep down in Aronson's nature, as in that of every one +of us, even the plainest, had time to show itself in the interval +between his ring and the servant's answer.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold is in Woodlawn," answered the housemaid. "Can you leave +your business?"</p> + +<p>"No, I want to see her personally."</p> + +<p>Woodlawn! She had escaped him then. The teamster was waiting and the +servant diminishing the aperture of the door to a suspicious crack, +while he collected his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"How long has she been in Woodlawn?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She just moved in yesterday morning," replied the servant, closing the +door with a slam.</p> + +<p>"Take me back in time for the next train," said Aronson to the driver.</p> + +<p>"Too late for the next train," came the drawling answer. "Next train is +at 9:15 and it's most 9 now."</p> + +<p>"When is the last train?" asked Aronson, figuring on a midnight visit to +Woodlawn.</p> + +<p>"That's the last train to-night."</p> + +<p>Here was a wild-goose chase indeed, but Aronson had a keen suspicion +that it was the goose who was the chaser.</p> + +<p>"What is the first train in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"At 6:15 a. m.," answered the rustic, who usually knows his local +time-table better than his prayers.</p> + +<p>"Can I lodge here for the night?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno. Sam Cook might put you up. He used to keep an inn. Maybe he can +find a spare bed for you under the roof somewheres."</p> + +<p>"Drive me to Sam Cook's," said Aronson. All the nocturnal interest of +the countryside had vanished from him now, and it was with no kindly +feeling toward Hillsborough that he stretched his limbs in the old +boniface's spare bed, laying the subpoena under his pillow and muttering +a petition to Jehovah that he might not oversleep himself and lose the +6:15 a. m. But the real danger proved to be that he would get no sleep +at all. For at midnight he was still tossing.</p> + +<p>A cow-bell, furiously jingled, awoke him at sunrise, and he was in the +city at 7:15, on schedule time.</p> + +<p>"To Woodlawn," a sign on one of the tracks read. But the hands of the +mock clock pointed to 7:45 and there was another half-hour of waiting. +All the world was out of bed, for the steeple bell had just tolled 8 +when he arrived in Woodlawn and inquired his way to the Arnolds'.</p> + +<p>"Just moved back!" thought Aronson. "I should say so."</p> + +<p>Mats were hanging out of windows, servants were mopping panes, a hostler +was hosing a muddy carriage in the stable; everything showed that a +general scrubbing process had begun. To his surprise and pleasure, he +recognized the housemaid who answered his ring as Bertha Lund. She was +dressed in her smartest pink, for this was the day of her testimony.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Mrs. Arnold," said Aronson, blurting out his message like +a schoolboy.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arnold? Well, you've come too late," answered Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she here?"</p> + +<p>"Here! She's on her way to Europe by this time."</p> + +<p>"To Europe!"</p> + +<p>Saul Aronson's jaw dropped and the subpoena began to burn a hole in his +pocket. Was this a subterfuge? He would be on the alert.</p> + +<p>"When did she start?"</p> + +<p>"Why, this morning. You must have passed her coming out."</p> + +<p>Passed her coming out! It was like chasing his own shadow, this constant +missing of the game he hunted.</p> + +<p>"But wha—wha—what made her go to Europe?" stammered Aronson. He +remembered hearing Shagarach say one day that flight was confession. Was +Mrs. Arnold involved in her son's guilt? Then all the more reason for +waylaying her before she gave them the slip.</p> + +<p>"Can't a lady go abroad if she chooses? Mrs. Arnold goes abroad every +summer."</p> + +<p>"But Harry——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we're cleaning things up for Harry. They'll live here after +they're married, you know, Harry and Miss March."</p> + +<p>"But he was arrested!"</p> + +<p>"Arrested!"</p> + +<p>Bertha had left the court early on the previous day and did not read the +papers.</p> + +<p>"Didn't his mother know Harry was arrested?"</p> + +<p>"Arrested! Harry? What for?"</p> + +<p>"For setting his uncle's house on fire," answered Aronson, who as a +loyal partisan was one shade more thorough in his conviction of Harry's +guilt than Shagarach himself.</p> + +<p>"Setting his uncle's house on fire! Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"What boat did she take?" asked Aronson, breaking in upon Bertha's +astonishment with a gesture of impatience.</p> + +<p>"The Venetia, of the Red Star line."</p> + +<p>"And it starts so early in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; somewhere between 8 and 9."</p> + +<p>Aronson looked at his watch. It was just 8:15. If he could catch a train +back, he might be in town at a little after half-past. And then—a +delay! These great steamers are often delayed!</p> + +<p>"Toot! Toot! Toot!" came the warning whistle of an engine, and Aronson +was dashing down the path, never stopping to pick up his hat that was +lifted off by the wind, bent only on beating his steam-propelled rival +to the station. It took him the whole journey townward to recover the +wind he had lost in that unwonted quarter-mile run. People laughed at +his hatless head, but he did not heed them. Besides, if he had been a +philosopher, he might have retorted that hats on a dog-day are simply +one of the nuisances of civilized conventionality. So he took a wharf +car and in less than half an hour was running out to the edge of the +great Red Star quay, there to behold the Venetia proudly backing into +the channel on the flood of the tide and turning her head oceanward. I +regret to say this spectacle filled Aronson with violent wrath, and the +wharf loungers must have taken him for a wild man as he smote his fists +together and danced about.</p> + +<p>"Missed your boat?" inquired casually a sea-beaten man, but Aronson was +too irate to appreciate his well-meant sympathy. He only ran to the edge +of the wharf and looked off, shading his eyes from the glare of the +water.</p> + +<p>Presently he found the man at his elbow again.</p> + +<p>"I can catch her for you if it's anything important," said the tar.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you—I'll give you—" and then he checked himself, appalled +at his own rashness. "How much will you charge?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, the Venetians steaming for a record this trip."</p> + +<p>"How much?"</p> + +<p>"She's got a start of a mile, and going twenty knots."</p> + +<p>"How much?"</p> + +<p>"There were some picnic folks I expected down here to charter my tug. +Don't see them, but they may drop in. I suppose you'll allow something +for the disappointment if they come."</p> + +<p>"How much?" persisted Aronson, but the Venetia had just disappeared +behind an island and the thought of returning empty-handed to Shagarach +acted like a rowel in his flank. "I'll give you $50," he cried, +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Done," said the Yankee, wringing his hand, and then Aronson knew that +he ought to have offered $25. But it was no time for haggling. "At any +cost," he repeated to himself. The mariner hurried him in and out among +the wharves, till they came upon a battered but resolute-looking +tugboat, on which two or three deck-hands were lounging.</p> + +<p>"Get steam up, Si," cried the skipper, and after a delay which seemed an +hour to Aronson the water began to be churned to foam before her bow and +the little craft had started on its long chase.</p> + +<p>Past the islands of the harbor, past the slow merchant schooners, past +the white-sailed careening pleasure sloops, past the harbor police boat, +past the revenue cutter, past the excursion steamers to local beaches, +past the crowded Yarmouth, they flew, cheered on by the passengers—for +everybody soon saw it was a race.</p> + +<p>Aronson was studying the wide beam of the Venetia in front. How slowly +they were gaining! They were out beyond the farthest island in the +harbor, the lighthouse shoal that is covered at high tide, and still the +Red Star liner bore away from them with half a mile of clear water +between.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, shipmate," cried Perkins; "she's gettin' bigger and bigger. +Heap the coals on down there, Si."</p> + +<p>The Venetia must have sighted her pursuer long ago, and indeed the faces +of her passengers on the bow were becoming more and more visible every +moment. But this was a record trip, and it would be beneath her dignity +to slow up for every petty rowboat that hailed her. So her engines +continued to pump and she clove the glorious waters swiftly.</p> + +<p>"Ahoy!" shouted Capt. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"Ahoy yourself!" came the answer. Aronson thought he saw a woman's face +that he knew on the deck.</p> + +<p>"Heave to! A boarder!"</p> + +<p>"Tell him to get out of bed in time," came the ungracious reply. +Evidently the Venetia's third mate was under orders not to stop for any +belated passenger.</p> + +<p>"What's your errand?" asked the skipper, a little puzzled, of Aronson.</p> + +<p>"I have a subpoena from the court," cried Aronson, all agog.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're a court officer."</p> + +<p>Then he rounded his hands and holloaed up:</p> + +<p>"A court officer aboard!"</p> + +<p>Court officer! This made an impression. The third mate withdrew from the +gunwale and presently reappeared with the captain.</p> + +<p>"Lash her to!" cried the captain. The tug-boat hugged her great sister +and a ladder was let down, upon which Aronson mounted. With the white +paper in his hand he looked decidedly formidable.</p> + +<p>"I have a subpoena for Mrs. Alice Arnold, one of your passengers. She is +wanted as a witness in a murder trial. There she is," he added, for Mrs. +Arnold stood in front of the crowd that had rolled like a barrel of +ballast toward the center of interest. The captain was nonplused. He was +not familiar enough with law terms to know the limits of a subpoena's +authority. But he felt that he was to some extent the protector of his +passengers.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand this," he said, turning to Mrs. Arnold.</p> + +<p>"It is a great annoyance to me if I must go on so trifling a matter," +she said. She was pale and her manner was haughty. To Aronson it was +something more. It bore every indication of conscious guilt. He had not +foreseen resistance. The document, with Shagarach's name appended, he +had thought would open caverns and cause walls to fall.</p> + +<p>"There is the lady. She prefers not to go. I presume you will have to +compel her. But I don't see that I can permit violence on board my +ship."</p> + +<p>The passengers seemed to gloat on Saul Aronson's discomfiture, and +Shagarach's faithful courier was almost beside himself. In the distance +lay the city, crowned with its gold dome, dwindling from sight. The +lonely ocean roared around him. Capt. Perkins' tiny tug still hugged the +larboard of her giant sister.</p> + +<p>"It appears to me that paper's no good," said the second mate suddenly. +He happened to be a little of a lawyer. "Let's have a look."</p> + +<p>Aronson reluctantly saw the summons leave his hand.</p> + +<p>"Suffolk county. This ain't Suffolk county," cried the mate, while the +ring of passengers laughed.</p> + +<p>"Shinny on your own side, youngster," he added, returning the paper.</p> + +<p>"But it's America," cried Aronson.</p> + +<p>"Just passed the three-mile limit," said the captain. He was an +Englishman, the mate was an Englishman. They had no particular love for +anything American, except the output of our national mints.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid the captain's right, young man," said a kind, elderly +gentleman, who might be a lawyer recruiting his health by an ocean trip +before the fall term opened. "You've got beyond your jurisdiction."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arnold had gone below and the hatless invader reluctantly abandoned +his prize. On the homeward voyage he gave way to exhaustion and fell +into several naps of forty winks' duration, during the last of which a +grotesque dream troubled his peace. He found himself chasing Serena Lamb +around an enormous bass drum, as big as the Heidelberg tun, on the +stretched skin of which the oaf, the manikin and the pantaloon were +dancing a fandango. Still he chased Serena and still she escaped him, +the toes of the dancers pounding a heavy tattoo. Faster and faster +pursuer and pursued whirled around the side of the drum, till Aronson's +head swam like a kitten's in hot pursuit of his own tail. At last in his +despair he hurled the subpoena at Serena's head.</p> + +<p>The three dancers disappeared with a bursting sound into the hollow of +the drum, and he awoke to find the tugboat just bumping its side against +the dock. The sea had smoothed down to a lack-luster glaze, but it was +less dreary than the heart of the baffled pursuer.</p> + +<p>"We may as well cancel that little debit item now," said Skipper +Perkins, flinging a coil of rope ashore.</p> + +<p>"At any cost," repeated Aronson sorely to himself. He had done his best, +but Mrs. Arnold was out of sight of land—a fugitive from justice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER LVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE MIRACLE.</h3> + + +<p>It was after two o'clock when, breathless, spiritless, and penniless, +Saul Aronson arrived at the court-room again. The examination of Bertha +was nearly ended.</p> + +<p>"Will you take these spectacles, Miss Lund?" said Shagarach, handing +Bertha a pair. They looked like the "horns" that used to straddle our +grandfathers' noses, being uncommonly large, circular in shape and +fitted with curved wires to pass over the ears.</p> + +<p>"Do they bear any resemblance to Prof. Arnold's?"</p> + +<p>"I thought they were his at first."</p> + +<p>"Let us suppose they are. Will you kindly leave the stand and adjust +them on this desk near the window exactly as the professor's spectacles +lay on his desk that afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Bertha took the spectacles without hesitation, walked over to the +crier's desk and placed them on its edge, with their wires toward the +window. Then she laid a book under the wires. This made the glasses tip +a little downward. The sun was shining in fiercely.</p> + +<p>"I believe there was a waste basket in the study?" continued Shagarach.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Like this one?" He held up an uncommonly capacious basket, over two +feet high.</p> + +<p>"The very same kind."</p> + +<p>"And as full as this is?"</p> + +<p>"Fuller. It was just bursting with papers."</p> + +<p>"What kind of paper?"</p> + +<p>"Black wrapping paper that comes off the professor's books."</p> + +<p>"Something like this?"</p> + +<p>"Just like that."</p> + +<p>The paper in Shagarach's wicker basket was not black, exactly, but of a +deep shade which could hardly be described by the name of any known +color.</p> + +<p>"Why are you wearing a white dress, Miss Lund?"</p> + +<p>Bertha blushed a little.</p> + +<p>"Because light colors are cooler."</p> + +<p>"Coolness is a strong recommendation on a day like this. Do you remember +whether the Saturday of the fire was as warm?"</p> + +<p>"It was very hot, I know."</p> + +<p>"The hottest day of a hot June, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I couldn't answer that. The thermometer goes up and down like a +jumping-jack here."</p> + +<p>"You had pulled up the study curtains so as to let in the sunlight, I +believe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. That was for the poor canary. And, besides, the professor +used to say the sunlight was good—good for plants and animals and +everything that has life in it."</p> + +<p>"The sun, then, was shining down on the desk where the spectacles lay?"</p> + +<p>"Just as you see it here, sir."</p> + +<p>She pointed to the desk, by which she was still standing.</p> + +<p>"You know, from your own experience in dresses, that dark colors absorb +more heat than light ones?"</p> + +<p>"Sir?"</p> + +<p>"Light dresses are cooler than dark ones?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Brown paper burns more quickly than white?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. You can kindle a fire with brown paper better."</p> + +<p>"Will you take the waste-basket and place it on the floor just as far +from those spectacles as the waste-basket in the study stood, and in the +same direction."</p> + +<p>Bertha measured off a short distance with her eye, picked up the basket, +shifted it once or twice, and finally set it down with a satisfied air.</p> + +<p>"There!"</p> + +<p>"It stood just behind the desk, then?"</p> + +<p>"What is the drift of all this?" interrupted the district attorney, his +deep voice falling on a breathless silence. A presentiment had spread +from one to another that the solution was at hand.</p> + +<p>"We are reproducing the exact condition of the study at the time the +fire occurred. These spectacles, containing powerful cataract lenses, +are made from the same prescription as Prof. Arnold's, by his optician, +Mr. Dean. The large basket, a mild eccentricity of the professor's, and +the black paper, are also duplicates."</p> + +<p>"What do you hope to prove?" asked Chief Justice Playfair. His answer +was a shrill cry, like a bird note, from Emily, who had never withdrawn +her eye from the waste basket.</p> + +<p>"It's catching!"</p> + +<p>Every eye in the court-room turned. Those who sat near enough beheld two +tiny holes, like worm holes, suddenly pierced in the black paper, where +the rays of light converged through the tilted lenses. Each had a crisp, +brown margin around it. Gradually they widened and spread, as though +instinct with life, one working faster than the other. Then suddenly a +little circle of flame curled out, and before the onlookers realized the +miracle in progress, the waste basket was throwing up red tongues of +fire and sighing softly. If it were not for Sire's furious barking the +railing of the bar might have caught. As it was, its varnish had begun +to crackle before the nearest court officer recovered his presence of +mind and threw the blazing basket out of the window.</p> + +<p>Gazing at Shagarach the spectators waited breathlessly for an +elucidation. Before speaking he walked over and shook hands warmly with +Emily. When he turned at last, his words came forth like a whirlwind.</p> + +<p>"I think nothing more is needed to convince us of the source from which +this fire originated. We have reproduced every circumstance of its +occurrence in order to provide you with ocular demonstration. The sun +supplying extraordinary heat, the burning glass duplicated by an expert +and placed in position by a trustworthy witness, the focal distance +estimated by her, the highly combustible fuel, identical in color and +substance—can you not turn back in imagination and see happening in +that deserted study all that has happened here? Can you not follow it on +to the destruction of the mantel fringe just above, the awaking of the +sleepy dog, the mad leap of the flames from wall to wall, and at last +that whole irresistible carnival of the elements? It was no human torch, +but the hot gaze of the sun, condensed through these powerful lenses, +which lit that funeral pyre and dug graves for seven human beings. Fate, +working out its processes in that lonely room, was the mysterious +incendiary toward whom we have all been blindly groping."</p> + +<p>As Shagarach pointed upward in his awful close, the audience, on the +very brink of an outburst, held back their enthusiasm for an instant. +But the chief justice was seen to bow his head, and at once the +excitement broke all barriers. A loud spontaneous cheer, rendered half +articulate by cries of "Shagarach, Shagarach!" scattered to the winds +the customary restraints of the surroundings. Women embraced each other; +strangers shook hands warmly; Emily Barlow rushed over and hugged +Rosalie March, and drops were glistening on Chief Justice Playfair's +eyelashes when he lifted his head. McCausland, standing agape on the +threshold of his ante-room, completed the happy picture.</p> + +<p>By a natural reaction the outburst was succeeded by a spell of tense +repression, amid which the district attorney rose and moved the +withdrawal of the case against Robert Floyd. The foreman of the jury +announced that he and his associates had long been agreed upon the +innocence of the accused, and Chief Justice Playfair, dignified as an +archbishop blessing his flock, expressed in his golden idiom the common +feeling of thankfulness that the trial had so felicitous a termination.</p> + +<p>And so the logic of Richard McCausland and the psychology of Meyer +Shagarach were both overmatched by the intuitions of a loyal girl—a +girl who knew something about lenses because she dealt with cameras, and +who brought to the problem a concentration of thought as powerful as +that of the sunlight on the professor's spectacles. Both the lawyer and +the detective came forward promptly to pay her their homage; and the +last she saw of McCausland he was focusing one of the lenses on the end +of his cigar, readily obtaining the desired red light.</p> + +<p>But Emily was not holding court even for them while there was still a +stroke of work to be done. Her second thought was of Harry in his cell. +With admirable modesty avoiding Robert's kiss, she took him and Rosalie +by the hand and made them friends at once. Then, leaving Beulah Ware to +chat with Brother Tristram, the trio sped over to the jail. At the +court-house door they met Dr. Silsby, who came flying along, florid and +out of breath, mopping his face with a napkin which he had probably +mistaken in his hurry for a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Is it over?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Over? We're acquitted," cried Emily, using a reckless plural. "What +makes you so late?"</p> + +<p>"Stopped to nib a quill after lunch," grumbled the director of the +Arnold Academie, as he gave Robert a pump-handle squeeze.</p> + +<p>It was a changed Harry that stepped out of the cell in murderers' row. +In the confidence of the preceding night the two cousins had grown +closer together than ever before. After all, as Harry had said on the +stand, they were both Arnolds and the sole survivors of that eccentric +blood.</p> + +<p>But a stronger bond was soon to rivet them together in the waxing amity +of the two girls, one of whom was dearer than kin to each of the +cousins. Rosalie's exclusiveness and the wealth she continued to enjoy +with an equanimity he could not understand at first prevented Robert +from doing full justice to her. But on acquaintance she proved as merry +(among her chosen few) as any lassie, and a certain child-like +innocence, all the more singular from her association with the stage, +made a charming foil to the ripe womanly beauty of her person.</p> + +<p>Moreover, as the months roll by, and Robert learns more and more what +men and women really are, he lowers his standards gradually as to what +may be expected of them. Not that he has given up his ideals. Far from +it! He is still a socialist; and, what is better, a sower of good seed +in action, placing goodly portions of his income here and there, with +something of his uncle's bow-wow manner, to be sure, as though it were +no personal pity tugging at his heart-strings, but only an abstract +desire to see things ship-shape in the world, an impatience at disorder. +But this affected matter-of-factness doesn't suffice to shake off the +blessings of his pensioners.</p> + +<p>If he chooses to set all orthodoxy by the ears with that series of +fire-brand polemics which, as readers remember, succeeded the "Modest +Proposal for a Consumers' Trust," so that one old granny among his +opponents has already christened him "the Legicide," what do Mrs. Lacy +and Mrs. Riley know or care? I fancy most of us, if we were burdened +with a maniac son or blessed with the love of a dutiful boy like +Walter, would accept assistance for their sakes, and ask no questions of +the giver.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arnold is too old now ever to forget that her maiden name was Alice +Brewster. It was the fear of staining that name with the published +details of a petty intrigue that caused her to sail for Europe so +suddenly. For it was she, conscious of her own financial straits, and +anxious for Harry if his inheritance should be cut off, who had +conducted the correspondence with Ellen Greeley. In this there was +nothing criminal; but much to wound her pride. So she had fled from the +ordeal of testifying before Shagarach, and the disclosures which she +foresaw were inevitable.</p> + +<p>Her embarrassments have since been tided over and the family fortune +saved, at least from total shipwreck. The match with Rosalie March +guarantees to Harry the gratification of all his tastes; and, as the +young couple are coming to Woodlawn to live, the sting of separation is +softened. Ah, the fond jealous mothers who must forget their own +honeymoons to chide the child that only obeys divine injunctions in +cleaving to another when the time is ripe!</p> + +<p>Of Emily Barlow what more can be said? Praise is superfluous; intrusion +on her betrothal joys, soon to merge into marriage happiness, deeper if +less unmixed with care, an impertinence.</p> + +<p>Of late the whole world seems conspiring to bless her. Only the other +day Tristram March won the sculpture prize at the academy with his +life-size group "Driftwood Pickers at the Sea Level." The critics have +gone mad over the boldness of his conception—one figure erect and +peering far off, two stooping and adding to their fagot bundles. The +whole ocean is there in that fretted line of surf—a bare suggestion. +One interpreter has gone so far as to see in the figures a type of +humanity itself, on the margin of some mysterious beneficent element +which surrounds it. But the salient fact to Emily is that Tristram won +the prize, and is striving might and main for another more precious—the +hand of the dark, collected girl who gave him both subject and +inspiration during their memorable week at Digby.</p> + +<p>And Shagarach—the iron will, the giant mind—what is his destiny? To be +always a criminal lawyer, a consorter with publicans and sinners? +Always, we may be sure, to protect the innocent, to whatever sphere the +buoyancy of his genius may lift him; and whether he wear ultimately the +ermine or the laurel wreath he will never forget one cause, which +brought him, with much added celebrity and some unhappiness, the +friendship of three couples so rare and fine—that great search for the +Incendiary which is registered (not without pique) in Inspector +McCausland's private docket as "The Eye-Glass Fiasco."</p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Transcriber's Note: Hyphen variations left as printed.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Incendiary, by W. A. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Incendiary + A Story of Mystery + +Author: W. A. (William Augustine) Leahy + +Release Date: April 27, 2012 [EBook #39544] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INCENDIARY *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + THE INCENDIARY + + A Story of Mystery. + + BY W. A. LEAHY. + + + CHICAGO AND NEW YORK: + RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY, + MDCCCXCVII. + + A PRIZE STORY + In THE CHICAGO RECORD series of "Stories of Mystery." + + THE INCENDIARY + + BY W. A. LEAHY. + + (This story--out of 816 competing--was awarded the fourth prize in the + CHICAGO RECORD'S "$30,000 to Authors" competition.) + + Copyright, 1896, by W. A. Leahy. + + + + +THE INCENDIARY. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +FANFARE: THE PLAY BEGINS. + + +It was about half-past three in the afternoon when Bertha, the +housemaid, came running down the steps, with a shrill cry of "Fire!" and +fell plump into the arms of the bake-shop girl, who had seen the smoke +curling from Prof. Arnold's window and was hastening across to warn the +occupants of his house. The deep bark of a dog was heard within and +presently Sire, the professor's old St. Bernard, rushed by the two young +women and darted hither and thither, accosting the bystanders +distractedly, as if burdened with a message he could not communicate. + +"Ring the alarm!" cried Bertha and the bake-shop girl in a breath, as +soon as they had recovered from the shock of their collision. Their cry +was taken up by a knot of three boys, who, as usual, were the first on +the spot; passed along till it reached some loungers on the corner, +whose inertia was more gradually overcome; and presently half the +neighborhood, as if by a spontaneous impulse, came thronging into +Cazenove street, each following his leader, like a flock of startled +ewes. Bertha, caught in the middle of this ring of sight-seers, stood +paralyzed a moment; then singling out the one man of action, she broke +through the crowd and stopped him midway in his advance. + +"For the love of heaven, will you ring the alarm?" + +The postman turned and scudded to the box. There was an interval of +suspense that seemed an age. + +"Is there any one in the house?" was the first question of Patrolman +Chandler, when he galloped up to the scene. He had been attracted at +once by the barking of Sire. + +"Mr. Robert," cried Bertha, wringing her hands. "Mr. Robert was in the +study." The crowd looked up and measured the swift gains of the +destructive element. + +"Young Floyd?" said Chandler. Then he rushed into the house and up the +first flight of winding stairs, the dog, as he did so, following him +with a great fusillade of delighted barks. + +"There's some one inside," said the crowd, and the rumor passed from +mouth to mouth. + +"Fire! Fire!" called Chandler from the corridor window above. "Yell, you +fellows, as you never yelled before!" + +In response a cry of "Fire!" went up from man, woman and child, bass and +treble intermingling, loud enough to have waked the seven sleepers from +their trance. But no one stirred inside. Just at this moment the tardy +bells rang out the number of the box, and almost immediately, as an +engine came rounding a distant corner and the great gray horses bounded +up the grade, the uproar began to subside. On, on, past the doomed +house, now enveloped in flames, to the nearest hydrant, the driver +lashed his pair. The hydrant cover had been thrown off and the first +block of coal flung into the engine's furnace before Patrolman Chandler +reissued from the door which he had entered. + +"There is no one there," he gasped, as if choking with the smoke. But +the dog continued to leap about, accosting the bystanders appealingly, +until his barks and pawing became a nuisance to several and they spurned +him pettishly away. + +Now engines from many directions came clattering by and the air was full +of clangor. Lines of hose were unraveled, ladders hoisted against the +walls, and finally, amid hoarse shouts that pierced the deep sighing of +the flames within, a rubber-clad, helmeted fellow, with a nozzle +strapped to his body, slowly led a line up to the second-story window, +where the fire had apparently started. There was another interval of +suspense, orders to and fro, and then a helpless pause. Something +refused to work. + +But the fire met no such impediment. Suddenly an explosion of uncertain +origin shook the air, and the onlookers retreated in terror, as if the +ground were yawning beneath them. Of a sudden one, two, three slack, +snaky hose lines rounded out, and a burst of foam, battering in +window-panes and sashes, inaugurated the great combat of elements--one +angry, vindictive, as if ravening to sunder the bonds of control cast +about it by the pigmy, its master, the other docile and benignant, but +in the end the more puissant of the two. + +"Exactly nine minutes from the start before a drop of water fell on that +fire," said the bake-shop girl, who was noted for her accurate +observation of time. By the "start" she meant the moment when Bertha and +she collided on the doorsteps, but the fire must have gained a strong +headway before that. For every timber in the house was flaming now. The +heat scorched the firemen's cheeks and made frightened children in the +windows opposite turn away. All the neighbors were packing up their +valuables, preparing for the worst. Singed and blinded, the firemen had +been driven back down their ladders and compelled to fight from the +street. At 3:40 the district chief ordered a second alarm rung in, and, +as this was followed by another explosion, a third alarm immediately +after. Amid a great clanging of bells, engine after engine, with drivers +standing at the reins and firemen riding backward, drove up and sought +out positions of vantage. + +With the arrival of Chief Federhen their plan of attack seemed to assume +a definite shape at once. The ding, ding, ding, of his light carriage, +riding over distended and bedraggled hose, told the impatience of the +man on the seat. A tall, gaunt figure, wrapped in a cloak, which he +threw off as the excitement grew on him, he first turned his attention +to the police and the crowd. + +"We want room to do this work in," he cried in a loud voice, and the +bluecoats began vigorously routing the onlookers back until the fire was +to them like something seen through an inverted opera glass, and the +sagging ropes nearly broke under the black weight of humanity which they +fended off. + +Federhen's practiced eye saw the doom of the dwelling-house. So he +called off his engines and threw up ladders against the great mercantile +buildings to leeward and in the rear. It was from one of these, +presumably the fireworks-room of Schnitzler Bros., that the second +explosion, scattered and prolonged like an enfilading volley of +musketry, had come, and already a thatch of flame had run around under +the projecting roof of the structure. Against this the fire tower was +slowly brought into position and sloped over, its tip just topping the +eaves, but the axes of the squad sent up failed to make any impression +on the solid sheathing of the roof. When the tower ladder itself began +to take fire, and a stream had to be played on it constantly, the order +was given, none too early, "Come down!" and the firemen's first +ambition, to get above the enemy, had to be abandoned for less +efficacious measures. Fountain jets, rising from the street, and level +streams from the roofs of the dwelling-houses opposite, did their +ineffectual best to quench the red thirst of the triumphing element. + +"This is glorious!" + +"Tristram!" + +The girl pulled a dolman over her shoulders, fear simulating cold, +before the savage dance of the flames. Their carriage had passed through +Broad street, in the rear of Cazenove, a few minutes before, and when +the alarm sounded Tristram had ordered the coachman to turn and drive +them back. + +"Glorious, Rosalie!" he repeated, looking up at the red streamers and +the swirling smoke. + +"It was just here we met your friend, Harry Arnold," murmured Rosalie. +"Did you notice he had only one glove on?" + +"Glorious!" echoed her enraptured brother, as a section of the wall +fell in, disclosing an oven view like the interior of a Bessemer blast +furnace. + +"See the horses pawing. The sparks will fall on them. Let us drive +away." + +"My palette!" was Tristram's answer. "Brush! Easel! Canvas! Oh, the lost +chance of a lifetime!" + +"Doesn't it make you shudder?" + +"Certainly, my dear. That is the very deliciousness of it" + +"But the danger!" + +"Ah, you know I'm a perfect Bluebeard in the taste for horrors. I really +envy Parrhasius his enjoyment in flaying the old slave--or did he flog +him? But it's of no consequence which. He tortured him somehow, you +remember, and chained him to a stake in his studio, so that he might +paint Prometheus' writhings to the life." + +But just here something happened which cut short his tirade of irony. + +It was on the Broad street side of the Harmon building (such the great +six-story structure was called), just where the Marches' coachman had +halted their span, that the most pitiful incident of this memorable fire +took place. By 4 o'clock everybody conceded that the Harmon building was +lost. Occupied principally by dry-goods firms, whose light wares, spread +over the counters, were like so much hay to the flames, it needed +scarcely more than the touch of a match to convert it into smoke. At the +sound of the second explosion hundreds of salesgirls and male employes +had rushed to the exits, barely outstripping the fire. It was supposed +that all had been warned and escaped, and only a signal shriek from the +top story in the rear notified the beholders that human lives were in +peril. Looking up, they saw at the windows a dozen girls and half as +many youths huddling together with the blanched faces of deadly fear. +Thick smoke was already curling up and enveloping them and reflections +of the flames, like an aurora rising in the north, were visible behind. +The cries they made could not be understood, but their gestures were +dumbly eloquent. + +"Jump!" came the cry from a hundred throats below. A teamster pulled +the rubber covers off the Protective company's wagon. Firemen and +policemen improvised nets of canvas, which they tore from the awnings +near by and spread under the shrinking group. Two or three of the girls, +who leaped for a telegraph pole on the outer edge of the sidewalk, +almost miraculously succeeded in scrambling down. Others climbed out on +the ledge and made as if to jump, but drew back from the awful plunge. +The fire was upon them now, and one could weep to see the men, brave +fellows, coaxing their timid companions to take the leap. One woman of +coarser build ran along the dizzy ledge, which scarcely yielded footing +for a sparrow, and sprang into the branches of a tree on the corner, her +dress saving her at the cost of fearful laceration. Then a form came +crashing down into the outspread nets, another and another, without +pause, without certainty of aim. Two struck the sidewalk and were +carried off shapeless and silent. One young girl's fall was broken by a +policeman's brawny arms--no other than Patrolman Chandler. She picked +herself up laughing, only to faint away, while her rescuer was borne off +groaning. It was all over soon--a tragedy of five minutes--but those who +witnessed it felt as if their hearts had been standing still for a +century. + +"Let us drive away," said Rosalie, a sickness seizing her. + +"Yes," answered Tristram; "the people are beginning to stare at you." +His sensitive lips were pale and he shut his eyes lest their film of +pity should be seen. It was true, some of the bystanders had pointed out +his companion to one another as Rosalie March. The face of this +beautiful girl had become familiar since Manager Mapletree the season +before had persuaded her to come out from the privacy of her home and +assume two or three roles in his revival of Shakespeare's comedies. +Perhaps they wondered who the gentleman beside her might be. Brother and +sister bore each other little specific resemblance. + +"What's that carriage halting here for? Do you think this is a +procession? Pass on!" cried Federhen to the coachman, who whipped up his +horses in a hurry. The police had not yet got around to this side of +the block, but the fire chief seemed at all times to be where the crisis +was. At a word from him ambulances arose from the very ground and the +dead and injured were carried off to the hospital. His straggly gray +beard confronted the fire-fighters everywhere, goading on the laggards, +cheering the valiant. Indomitable, tireless, he sent them again and +again at the ruined shell, drowning the neighboring dwelling-houses +meanwhile in a flood of water. The calm air favored him. People said +"him," for somehow the forces of salvation seemed to be embodied and +centralized in one implacable form. But the wind created by the fire was +carrying sparks and brands to a distance of half a mile. The awed +spectators winced and scattered at these hot showers. It was still a +speculation where the holocaust would end. + +If the Southern depot caught, then the whole Bay quarter, a warren of +tinder-box tenements, swarming densely with poor tenants, was in peril. +To save the depot was to win the day. But special editions of the +newspapers, appearing at 5 o'clock, were only able to announce, under +half-column scare-heads, that the result was still in doubt; and when +twilight came it was not the sunset glow (for a storm was gathering in +the overcast sky) which burnished the factory windows across the harbor +till they shone like plates of gold. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MIDNIGHT--ALL'S WELL. + + +"Accident is out of the question, John Davidson." The hands of the clock +were moving toward midnight in Klein's restaurant, but mugs were still +clinking, dishes rattling and waiters hurriedly cleansing soiled tables +with their towels. The freedom of the saloon had been extended to the +victorious fire-fighters, who, after supping with Duke Humphrey, were +not at all reluctant to lunch with Commoner Klein. + +"A health to Carl Klein," shouted one, tossing a tumblerful high in air. + +"Your health!" the place echoed, as the whole group stood up and shouted +a rousing toast. They were tough, middle-sized fellows, all of them, of +the true fireman's build, which is just a shade taller and broader than +a sailor's. The smiling old German hovered near and bowed and rubbed his +hands in appreciation. To judge from the girth under his apron, he was +himself a worshiper of the worthy trinity, breakfast, dinner and supper, +which he served. The two men chattering in low tones at a side table had +not stood up or noticed the interruption. + +"I can't believe it, McCausland," answered John Davidson, the fire +marshal. "There is no motive. It's devilish. It's beneath flesh and +blood. Four lives already and heaven knows how many more. It isn't in +human kind to do that without a reason." + +"Mankind is my kind, too," answered McCausland, pleasantly, but in such +a manner as to convey the idea that he was a diver of some experience +into the deep-sea depths of human turpitude. "But suppose we look at the +status quo. Everybody--Wotherspoon, Chandler and all the others--agreed +that the fire must have been going some time when the servant-girl ran +out of the house. If her story is to be believed, and she never turned a +hair under cross-questioning, you'll allow?" + +"The girl's fair spoken, I admit that," answered the marshal. + +"Then the blaze started in a room two flights above the only fire which +was going in the house, and that one a low coal fire in the cook stove. +The cook stove and the study-hearth get their drafts from different +chimneys. No possible connection there?" + +"No," answered the marshal, for McCausland's last inflection had been +slightly interrogative. + +"The cast-away cigar doesn't fit," continued his companion, telling off +the thumb on his chubby left hand. "There was no tobacco allowed in the +house. Mungovan, their last coachman, was discharged for smoking on the +sly. The professor was eccentric, you know, and this was the stanchest +of his dogmas." + +"Well?" + +"No boys with firecrackers playing around. It's the lull between the +17th of June and the Fourth." + +"No." + +"No phosphorescent rat-bane on the premises," went on McCausland, +telling off finger after finger. "You heard what the domestic said?" + +"Yes; she was positive about that." + +"Because they were not troubled with mice. Another accidental cause +removed. But if rodents were swarming like flies in a meat shop, I don't +see what substance more combustible than the pasted bindings of old +books they could have found in that library to nibble. The lucifers were +all kept in a safe downstairs, excepting a few for the sleeping-rooms." + +"That's true, but----" + +"Number six," interrupted McCausland. "What shall it be? Cotton waste +taking fire spontaneously? Benzine? Naphtha varnish? Celluloid? None of +them about, according to Bertha. I'm at my rope's end. Where are you?" + +"Do you suppose they have been as careful since the professor died?" +asked the marshal. + +"That was only four days ago and the study has been locked ever since. +Only opened fifteen minutes before the fire." + +"Aren't you done guzzling yet?" broke in a strident tone of command from +the open door. Chief Federhen's face was haggard and sooty, and his +voice, naturally harsh, had a ragged edge from shouting that grated on +the ear like the squawking of a peacock. But the firemen leaped +immediately to attention. They did not resent their gray chief's +reprimand, for they knew that he himself had gone without any supper at +all and that he stood ready at that moment to lead wherever he ordered +them to follow. In personal courage, as well as generalship, he was +believed to be the foremost chief in the country, and, though not +exactly popular personally, he was professionally adored. Only the +insurance companies had ever ventured to criticise his bold methods, and +they, as everybody knows, are simple-minded idealists, who expect an +immunity from fire such as even the arctic regions can hardly enjoy. + +"Take your machine alongside of fourteen, Tyrrell, and keep two lines on +the Harmon building all night." + +"All right, chief," answered Capt. Tyrrell, and his men followed him out +through the curious crowd that stood peeking in on their collation. + +"Impossible!" exclaimed the marshal, raising his voice, now that they +were nearly alone. + +"Impossible, that's what I say," smiled McCausland; "we're not living in +fairyland. This is earth, where effects have causes." + +"But who would have the heart to set it?" + +McCausland shrugged his shoulders. + +"If that's your impossible," he replied, "in the case of my own son, I'd +rather his defense were a concrete alibi." + +Inspector McCausland was a detective of the good old school, renowned in +many states and not unknown to Scotland Yard and the keen Parisians. +Nature had favored him with an exterior of deceptive smoothness. No +vulpine contraction of the muzzle, such as would have suggested the +sleuth and invited suspicion. Round, florid, pleasant-faced, a little +sloping in the shoulders, decidedly suave of voice and genial in manner, +he did not look the figure to be feared. Yet some, not easily +frightened, would depart in haste from the neighborhood of Richard +McCausland. + +"The only living occupants of the room," he continued, unfolding his +chain of reasoning to the still skeptical marshal, "at the time when +Bertha went in, were the St. Bernard, Sire, whose barking had attracted +her attention upstairs, and the canary bird, whose life she tried to +save." + +"Probably the delicate creature was dead when she opened the door," said +the marshal. + +"At any rate, it is impossible that an old dog, sleeping on the mat, or +a golden-feathered songster, whistling in his cage, could be the author +of this fire----" + +"And loss of life." + +"If the housemaid is telling the truth there was some other cause; and +if she is lying," he concluded, arising to go, "it must be to cover up +carelessness or guilt, either on her own part or on the part of some one +in whom she takes an interest." + +Intimate associates found McCausland a rollicking companion; but, in the +pursuit of crime, he was a practical believer in the doctrine of total +depravity, or, rather, to be just, he knew the potential evil which is +harbored in every human heart until some life-or-death temptation +effects, perhaps, the wreck of honor and humanity. + +"Well, this is another feather in Federhen's cap," said the marshal, +cheerily, at the door. + +"He must share it with Jupiter Pluvius," answered McCausland. + +As dark came on there had been a heavy fall of rain, which dampened the +roofs and stifled many a darting tongue and incipient blaze in the +vicinity, though it appeared to have no more effect on the body of the +fire than so much fuel thrown into its maw. But it had enabled Federhen +to concentrate his streams, which before this had necessarily been +scattered about, protecting exposed points of danger. In fact, one or +two serious subsidiary fires had only been checked with the utmost +difficulty. If either of them had extended, and the Bay quarter once +fairly caught, 500 poor families might have been ruined and two hotels +and one depot would have been included in the loss. + +At 6:45 Federhen had issued an order to blow up the Columbia shoe store +building. Against the frantic protest of the owners his oracular answer +was "Necessity!" and a high-handed jostle of the remonstrants to one +side. The magazines were promptly laid and a wide space cleared. +Precision and dispatch followed, like two leashed hounds, in the +footsteps of the chief. At 7 o'clock, with a mammoth concussion, the +middle of the building seemed lifted bodily into midair. Its walls caved +in, and at once twenty lines of hose were wetting down the debris, while +pickax men began widening still further the breach on the side toward +the van of the approaching fire. This corner building laid low, the +flames were sixty yards away from the depot, and all their surging and +leaping failed to clear the gap. Confined at last, assaulted from every +side, drenched, smothered and confounded, they spent their rage in a +blind, internal fuming. + +Those who returned to visit the fire in the evening, attracted, perhaps, +by the noise of the last concussion, witnessed a miraculous +transformation. The black night made a spacious and harmonious +background for the flames, now a spectacle of sinister beauty, charging +heavenward solidly to great heights only to flutter back and writhe at +their manifest impotence. The streets below, flushed with rain, were +glistening in the lamplight and the awestruck wonder of the crowd had +subsided to a mere vulgar curiosity about details. Already the event was +old to many, its solemn lesson and the revelation of underlying forces +making only a shallow impress on shallow minds. Gangs of rowdies swung +to and fro, elbowing respectable sight-seers into the puddles and +rendering night hideous with their ill-timed pranks and depredations, +like prowlers stripping the slain after battle. + +The police were occupied guarding the ropes and ejecting without +ceremony all intruders whose credentials were imperfect. Lines of hose +lay about in inextricable confusion, half-buried in an amalgam of lake +water, litter and mud, while at every corner the engines still sent up +showers of sparks, the rhythm of their dull pumping resounding through +the city like the labored beatings of some giant heart. Comments on the +losses, the injuries, the probable hour when the flames would be +conquered, beguiled the ranks of spectators who lined the ropes, those +behind crushing forward as the front file yielded place, and drinking in +all they could (not much at that distance), until the exhaustion of +their interest in turn became evident by their repeated yawns. It was +Saturday night, the late night in America, but by 11 o'clock there were +gaps in the solid phalanxes and the homeward-bound stream far +outnumbered that flowing toward the still vigorous but dull-red and +smoke-colored sheet of fire. + +Eleven was just ringing when a young man rushed up to the lines +stretched across Cazenove street at its junction with Meridian, and half +by force, half by entreaty, breasted his way to the rope. + +"I wish to pass, officer; my property is among those burned," he said. + +"Your property?" echoed the policeman, a phlegmatic-looking fellow. The +youth was not over 21 and Higgins had heard this story at least a dozen +times within an hour. His orders were to throw the burden of proof in +every case upon the petitioner. + +"Yes; that is to say, not mine, but my uncle's. I am a nephew of Prof. +Arnold and lived with him." + +The slight correction which the young man made in his explanation +evidently prejudiced his cause in the policeman's eyes--as if confusion +were a mark peculiar to the glib kinsmen of Ananias. The youth had +slipped under the rope and the crowd craned near, expecting an +altercation. + +"Get back there!" came the sharp rebuke, and a heavy hand was laid on +the young man's breast, gathering up the lapels of his coat and half his +vest bosom. + +"But my uncle's house is burned, I tell you," he protested. + +"Outside!" + +"I am also a member of the press." + +"Outside the ropes!" + +"You're a bully," cried the young citizen, pushing sturdily on his own +side and fairly holding his own. "Sergeant!" + +The sergeant in charge had come over when he saw trouble brewing and +stepped closer at this personal appeal. + +"I think you must know me. My name is Floyd. I am a nephew of Prof. +Arnold, in whose house the fire is said to have started. Am I refused +permission to pass the ropes?" + +"I'm afraid there's little to be seen of your uncle's house, Mr. Floyd," +quietly answered the sergeant, who knew him. "This gentleman is all +right, Higgins." + +Higgins nonchalantly moved a few steps off, doubtless reflecting that he +had only erred on the side of vigilance. + +"But the servants--do you know where they may be found?" + +"Try opposite. They're still at home. The wind was the other way, you +see." + +The young man sped up to the site of his former home. One look at the +black ruin sickened though it fascinated him. In that old-fashioned +house on the hill he had lived since infancy. Indeed, he had known no +other home, no other parent save the eccentric old professor, his uncle. +On Thursday, the body of Prof. Arnold had been carried away and laid in +another resting-place. Tonight the old home smoldered before him, a heap +of blackening embers, wearing no vestige of resemblance to its beloved +familiar contours. But little time was given him for meditation now. + +"Oh, Mr. Robert!" + +He felt his hands seized in a warm, strong grasp, which did not quickly +loosen. + +"Oh, Mr. Robert!" repeated Bertha, drawing him into the doorway of the +bake-shop and beginning to cry. "I thought you were burned in the fire. +Where have you been all the time?" + +"Only at Miss Barlow's. How did it happen?" + +"It was soon after you left. The library took fire. I heard Sire barking +and ran down to find out what was the matter, when what should I see but +the room full of smoke." + +"Ellen is safe, I hope?" + +"Ellen went out. We haven't seen her yet. But if it hadn't been for +Sire----" + +They had gone inside the shop and the great St. Bernard jumped up and +fondled his young master joyfully, but again with that strange +undertone in his barking, as of one who had a tale to tell, if only +stupid men folk could understand it. + +"What ails you, Sire? Poor fellow! Old master gone; house burned down; +getting old yourself. Yes, it's too bad. Good dog." + +Sire whined at the sympathy in Robert Floyd's voice. + +"Nothing was saved?" asked the youth. + +"Not a stitch. But I don't mind if I was only sure Ellen----" + +"Are you really anxious about Ellen? I thought she went out?" + +"Oh, yes. It was her day out. But when she came back to supper she ought +to have looked for me." + +"Perhaps she did hunt for you and missed you, or went to her sister's in +the confusion. You haven't found a lodging yet yourself for the night?" + +"I suppose I'll have to go to my aunt's." + +"Mrs. Christenson's. That's the place for you; and take good care of +Sire until I call for him." + +"Go with Bertha, Sire," he commanded, but the dog had to be dragged +away, the tall Swedish maiden laying her hand on his collar. + +"Well, your house, as the little girl said in the story, presents a +remarkable disappearance." + +Robert turned toward the stranger who was so facetious out of season. +Inspector McCausland had just parted company with the fire marshal and +was sauntering carelessly about. + +"How did it happen? Do they know yet?" asked Robert, anxiously. + +"I don't," answered McCausland. "Possibly so"--he filliped off the +lighted end of his cigar, but it fell into a black moat alongside of the +curbstone and went out with a gentle hiss. + +"But none of us smoked." + +"Perhaps it was of incendiary origin," said the detective. "There have +been some strange fires lately." + +"It is a mystery," answered Robert Floyd. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +SEQUELAE. + + +"You don't care for 'The Headless Horseman'?" said Robert to little +Elsie Barlow, who was sitting on his knee in Emily's parlor. "Which of +the stories do you like best of all?" + +Elsie shut up her book of fairy tales, trying to think. + +"You ask mamma which she likes best, Bessie or me?" + +"Oh, Elsie, that's dodging," laughed Robert. + +"No, 'tisn't dodging," protested Elsie. "'Cause mamma don't like either +of us best; and I like 'The House of Clocks' and 'The Ball of Gold' just +the same as each other." + +"'The Ball of Gold'--what a charming title! Tell me that. It can't help +being pretty." + +"Well, you see there was a great, tall giant," began Elsie, hunting +diligently for his picture in the wonder-book, "and this giant had a +ball of gold that rested on a saucer in his castle, just like an egg in +its cup. It was round-shaped like a crystal and weighed, oh, ever so +many tons. See, there he is." + +"Ugh!" Robert shuddered realistically. "What a monster!" + +"And oh, so cruel! Every knight that rode by he would challenge him to +battle, and the giant would cut off his head and hang them around his +belt, and the bodies he would throw to three great, savage dogs. That +was all they had to eat." + +"What cannibals!" + +"Here comes Emily," said Mrs. Barlow, who had been rocking in her chair. +The young lady wore a water lily at her bosom and was reading from the +Sunday Beacon. + +"Six lives lost, Robert," she cried, "and the Beacon has started a +subscription for their families." + +"But I haven't finished my story," pouted forgotten little Elsie. + +"Put it away, dear," said her mother, riding roughshod over the child's +wishes, as the best of mothers do. Perhaps these crosses are +educational. + +The following list printed in heavy capitals was the first paragraph +Emily read: + + KILLED. + + MARY LACY, salesgirl. + FLORENCE F. LACY, bookkeeper. + ALEXANDER WHITLOVE, elevator boy (colored). + OSCAR SCHUBERT, ladder man. + An unknown girl. + +"At midnight," she continued, reading aloud, "Rosanna Moxom, a +lace-worker, was reported dying, and the injuries of nearly a dozen +others are serious enough to excite alarm." + +"Did you say the Beacon has started a relief fund for their families?" +asked Robert. + +"Yes, and headed it with $1,000." + +Robert inwardly resolved to make the total $1,025. + +"Most of those dead or likely to die," continued Emily, while Robert +held Elsie and Mrs. Barlow rocked in her easy-chair, "belonged to the +hapless group that had been penned in the top story of the Harmon +building. They were employes of the firm of Carter & Hallowell, lace +dealers. Shut off by a solid wall from the Cazenove street side of the +building, they had not heard the shouts of fire until too late. A broad +sheet of flame barred their exit to the stairs, which were midway along +the corridor. Over fifteen of the girls, however, had come down safely +in the elevator, and Alexander, the colored elevator boy, had promised +to make a return trip for the others. He was true to his word and was +seen remounting as high as the fifth story. But here the heated iron +cables refused to work, and the poor fellow, stuck fast between two +floors, unable to escape from his wooden box, must have suffered a +martyr's death." + +"Poor boy!" murmured Mrs. Barlow. Perhaps she was thinking of her own +17-year-old son, whose death within a twelvemonth had deprived her home +of its only masculine presence. + +"Heroism!" cried Robert. "It is all around us in homespun, and yet we +run back to search for it under togas or coats of mail." + +"Oscar Schubert's death was equally mysterious," continued Emily, +turning the Beacon inside out. "He was a hook-and-ladder man, attached +to company 3, a German, and in every way a valuable servant. The poor +fellow left a wife and two flaxen-haired children, whose lamentations at +the hospital when the body proved to be that of their father brought +tears to the eyes even of the stoical attendants, accustomed as they are +to the surroundings of death." + +Here Emily was interrupted by a glee of laughter from a romping group +downstairs. It was the children coming home from Sunday school. A tiptoe +peep at the visitor magically hushed their merriment, but Robert +persuaded the youngest to intrust herself to his unoccupied knee, where +he held her as a counterpoise to Elsie, inwardly resolving to increase +his subscription to $50 for the sake of Oscar Schubert's two little +ones. + +"But the tenderest sympathy," read Emily, "is reserved for the Lacy +girls, sole supports of a large family, the cares of which, however, did +not seem to weigh upon their amiable dispositions. They had embraced +each other on the ledge before jumping, and leaped together, arm in arm, +missing the extended net by taking too strong a horizontal impulse, +which threw them almost to the curbstone. In the case of Mary, the elder +sister, death was instantaneous, but the features were not marred in the +least. The face of Florence, the younger, had been crushed in beyond +recognition, yet she lingered on and it was nearly two hours before her +heart finally ceased to beat. A feeble mother, an irresponsible brother +and several small sisters are left to mourn these truly estimable young +women." + +During this paragraph Robert's promissory subscription had silently +risen to $100. If it continued mounting he would soon have little ready +cash to meet his current expenses with. Little Elsie and Bessie, the +midget of all, listened wonderingly on his knee; and it is not +surprising if during the paragraph that followed, all about money losses +and insurance policies and proprietors' histories, his thoughts, +startled by a casual mention of Prof. Arnold's name in the reading, +roamed away to his own teens, when he used to sit on his Uncle +Benjamin's knee, as the little girls were sitting on his. + +He called up a picture of the Yorkshire youth who had been brought over +to the new world, with a younger brother and sister, by parents richer +in virtue than in coin of the world. Both the sons had won wealth and +Benjamin fame. Beginning as a gardener, he soon wrung recognition for +his botanical learning from a world which he affronted from beginning to +end by an independence passing far over the line into the region of +eccentricity. He belonged to the rare class of self-made scholars, and a +popular herb-balsam of his compounding had laid the corner-stone of a +fortune which sixty years of prudent addition had reared even higher +than that of his brother Henry, the banker. An Englishman by birth, he +had refused to change his allegiance. "Salute the flag you're born +under," was the motto he preached; and, consistently inconsistent in +this regard, he applauded the equally strong American loyalty of his +sister's son, Robert Floyd. + +How upright, how unimpeachable, he had been, thought Robert, in his +old-school fixity of principle! Overbearing to those he distrusted, +irritable among shams, he was charity itself to real merit and to the +poor. His pet aversions made a long and amusing list--lawyers, electric +lights, theaters, agnostics, cats; but each was only the reverse side of +a medal whose obverse was passionate love. If, for instance, he was +known to have stoned stray kittens from his garden, he made up for his +cruelty by treating dogs almost as human beings. + +"You and I have the canine temperament," he would say to Robert, a touch +of self-sufficiency mingling with his character, as is not unusual in +really benevolent men. "You and I have the canine temperament. Thank the +heaven that blessed us, and beware of cats. Two-foot and four-foot, it's +all the same. Feline! Catty!" The last word was pronounced with all the +explosive scorn which features as incapable of sneering as a hound's +could manage to express. Robert saw the great smooth face rise before +him now, tinged by time and weather to a pure cherry-wood red, and +crowned with luxuriant silver hair fringing out from under the +skull-cap. Sometimes, indeed, in the drawn corners of the mouth and the +limpid brown eyes, he had read a true affinity to the noble St. Bernard +who used to lie stretched upon the mat between them. + +"Three o'clock, latest. Here's something special." Emily's rise of tone +recalled the young man out of his dream. Elsie was once more deep in her +wonder-book and Bessie had slipped down from his knee and run to the +window. + +"At 2:49 Rosanna Moxom passed away at the hospital, making the sixth +victim of the fire. An employe of John Kalinovitch, the furrier, who +occupied rooms on the same floor with Carter & Hallowell, has identified +the unknown girl as Katie Galuby, a young Polish maiden----" + +"Katie Galuby?" cried Mrs. Barlow. "Can that be the girl we know?" + +"What about Katie Galuby, mamma?" asked Elsie, looking up. + +"She's dead," said mamma, and Elsie's lip quivered at the awful word. + +"A young Polish maiden, who stitched pelts in their musky establishment. +She had probably run the wrong way," Emily read, "as children will--for +Katie was no more than a child, though a workwoman these two years--and +so, finding herself with the Carter & Hallowell group, had followed them +in their random flight and shared their unhappy fate. This was the girl +Patrolman Chandler caught in his arms, who laughed and then fainted +away. The smile was still on her lips in death, and her face looked +sweet in its expression of happy innocence, though old, prematurely old +and wan." + +"Perhaps the poor girl is more blessed out of this world," said Mrs. +Barlow, whose eyes showed that she herself had not had a fair-weather +voyage through life. The Galubys lived in the next block, where there +was a colony of poor Poles, and she had often spoken to Katie. + +"Listen," cried Emily, reading another paragraph: "Up to 2:30 o'clock no +news has been received of Ellen Greeley, the cook in Prof. Arnold's +house. Inquiries made at her sister's failed to throw any light on the +question of her whereabouts. Dark rumors afloat, however, at a late +hour, emanating from an authoritative source and rapidly taking shape, +seemed to put her disappearance in close connection with other +mysterious facts, to the detriment of a well-known young man's +reputation." + +"I wonder who that can be?" asked Mrs. Barlow, but before any one could +answer a loud murmur in the street interrupted the quiet party. + +"Look, mamma, see all the people coming!" cried Bessie, pulling Mrs. +Barlow nearer to the window. Oaths and imprecations in some unknown +tongue thrilled the little group of listeners. + +"It's a riot among the Poles," said Mrs. Barlow. Emily and Robert at +once joined the group in the bay window. + +"There he is!" shouted some one in the crowd, pointing, and immediately +the covered heads became a sea of upturned faces--for the parlor was one +flight up--foreign faces, inflamed with passion. A hatless father, +brandishing a hatchet, led them on. But whither? + +"They are breaking in our door!" shrieked Mrs. Barlow. "And Mr. Galuby +at their head." + +Almost instantly a volley of stones crashed against the side of the +house and the windows were riddled. Emily and her mother drew back, with +the whimpering little ones, but Robert stood his ground, watching old +Galuby hacking at the door like a madman. + +"What are you doing?" he called down, raising the sash. + +There was a furious ring at the bell, followed by a snap, as if the +cord were pulled out. A small pebble sailed through the open window and +struck Robert in the cheek. At sight of the blood, though it was no more +than a strawberry splash, Emily seized his arm. + +"I must go down and stop this, Emily." + +"No, Robert; they are savages when they get excited." + +"What do they want?" + +"Heaven knows! We have never quarreled with them!" + +By this time the mob was augmented by swarms of gamins and roughs of the +neighborhood, but a change of tone in the uproar indicated that there +was some opposition to their mischief-making. + +"It is the police who have come," said Mrs. Barlow, but Emily clung to +Robert, so that he could neither approach the window nor go downstairs +to the door without violence to the fragile girl he loved. For many +minutes she held him there, till the murmurs below were mingled with +shrieks of pain, and their dispersion and diminution told of the +scattering of the crowd. Mrs. Barlow cautiously peeped out. + +"They are arresting Mr. Galuby. He is covered with blood," she cried. +Just then came a loud knocking at the front door. Robert tore himself +free and ran down to open it. A police sergeant stepped inside. + +"What is it all about?" asked Floyd. + +"We'll give you safe escort to the cars. Hurry up!" + +"Why should I be escorted?" + +"Galuby's girl was killed in the fire and the Poles learned you were +here." + +"What of that?" + +"Why, it's all over town that you set it." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE INDEX FINGER POINTS. + + +John Davidson, the marshal, was officially supposed to be endowed with +insight into the origin of fires. In fact, he drew a comfortable salary +for pursuing no other occupation than this. A swift horse and a buggy +enabled him to be among the first to arrive and a uniform of dark blue +cloth, such as old sailors cling to, but with brass buttons for insignia +in place of the little woven anchor that serves to remind the old salt +of his element, entitled him to salutes from fire captains as well as +from the rank and file. His written reports were read by insurance +underwriters, and his wise shake of the head went a great way with those +who knew little about fires and less about John Davidson. + +For "old John Davidson," as he was generally known, had one failing +which sadly impaired his official usefulness. He was an innate and +inveterate optimist. The mild-blue eyes which beamed from behind his +spectacles--old eyes, too, that no longer saw things as vividly as they +used to--were meant to train fatherly glances on winsome children or +dart gleams of approval at heroic hosemen whose sacrifices were rewarded +by medal or purse. Indeed, he was very popular in both these functions, +for old John Davidson had himself served his country and was comrade +John of Sherman post, No. 5. But these kindly orbs were not those of the +hawk, the lynx or the ferret, like Inspector McCausland's, of whose +small gray pair, eyelets rather than eyes, rumor said that the off one +contained a microscopic lens and its nigh fellow never went to sleep. + +"John Davidson will never set the world on fire himself," Inspector +McCausland had said when the veteran's nomination was first reported. +Yet "old John" went his way cheerfully poohpoohing suspicion and really +diffusing a globe of good feeling by his presence such as no fox in the +police ranks could pretend to radiate. + +However, the wisdom of the serpent is called for at times, as well as +the meekness of the dove. When Marshal Davidson, against all proof and +persuasion, gave out his intention to report the Arnold fire as +accidental, originating in some unknown manner, or by spontaneous +combustion, owing to the extreme heat of the day (the thermometer having +registered 97), it was felt by his best friends that he allowed his +optimism to blind him too far. He had made the same report in the Low +street fire, the authors of which, an organized gang of blackmailers, +trapped on another charge by McCausland, had just confessed their crime. +Such laxity could only embolden the firebugs and encourage an epidemic +of burnings. Something must be done, the police department thought, and +when they selected Inspector McCausland to work up the case there was a +general faith that something would be done. + +By Sunday noon the inspector had gathered an array of data, sufficient +to give a start to his active faculty of divination. Critics said that +his one failing was a slight impatience in feeling his way to a +conclusion, or, as his brother detectives expressed it, a tendency to +"get away before the pistol shot." + +"Going to hang some one, Dick?" asked Smith, whose specialty was +counterfeiters. + +"Well, we are sowing the hemp," answered McCausland, always ready with a +jovial answer. + +The first person upon whom suspicion rested was the Swedish housemaid, +Bertha Lund. But it did not linger long, or with more than a moth-like +pressure, on that robust and straightforward individual. Her story, +thrice repeated in response to questions by the marshal, Chief Federhen, +Inspector McCausland and the district attorney, had not varied a hair, +although each time new details were added, as the questions of the +different examiners opened new aspects of the affair. + +"Prime proof of her honesty," said McCausland. "The rote story shrinks +and varies, but never expands." + +So the only fruit yielded by the ordeal which Bertha underwent was a +thorough description of the house and household, pieced together from +her replies, and McCausland had soon left her far behind in his search +for a tenable theory. + +The cook, Ellen Greeley, had not yet made her appearance. Bertha +professed to have seen her dressing herself in her chamber and gave a +clear description of her clothing, for the benefit of McCausland's +note-book--green plaid skirt, brown waist, straw hat with red, purple +and yellow pompons. Ellen was dressing "uncommonly rich" of late, they +said. Bertha had talked with her upstairs and had heard the back door +slam about the time when Ellen might be supposed to be departing. It had +been the cook's holiday afternoon, and she was going to run over to her +sister's, as she generally did, and return for supper, leaving Bertha to +keep house. + +But her sister had not seen her and she had not returned. A slow, heavy +girl, rather apt to take the color of her mood from those around her, +she seemed a creature who might be influenced to wrongdoing, but hardly +the one to instigate it. So far as could be learned, the plain truth was +romantic enough for Ellen Greeley, and she was not accustomed to +embellish it with flowers of her own imagination. Nevertheless, after +exhausting this subject, McCausland checked her name with the mental +note "an accomplice, if anything," and the woman's prolonged absence, +together with those "uncommonly rich" dresses she wore of late, the more +he dwelt on them, prompted him the more to erase the modifying clause +and let his mental comment stand "an accomplice." + +But of whom? Ellen's sister and Bertha had both mentioned one Dennis +Mungovan, the cook's sweetheart, who, until three weeks ago, had been +coachman at the Arnold's. Some repartee, or insolence, when reprimanded +for smoking (he was described as a tonguey lout) had provoked his +discharge and he had been heard to threaten vengeance behind the +professor's back, though at the time his words were muttered they were +ignored as a braggart's empty vaporing. Twice he had called to see Ellen +at the house, but he had not shown his face since the week before the +professor died; and even at his favorite haunt, a certain Charles street +stable, all trace of him had been lost. As he was a resident of this +country for less than a year he may have crossed the water again to his +home, but if this were so Bertha felt sure Ellen would have manifested +her lonesomeness. "She had a great heart to the man," said the Swedish +housemaid. + +"Well, what have you collected against him?" said the district attorney, +to whom McCausland had just been exhibiting these results of his +investigation. They were alone, save for a bloodhound, in the +inspector's office at police headquarters. + +"Opportunity, motive and circumstances. I don't rule out the other two +as accessories, you understand." The "other two" were Mungovan and Ellen +Greeley, who with Robert had been arranged in a triangle by the +detective. + +"That remains to be fitted into the developments, I presume?" + +"First, as to circumstances. The young man turns up about 11 o'clock at +a fire which started at 3:30, which destroyed his own home, and which +was advertised all over the country within a radius of thirty miles +before sunset." + +"In itself not a very damaging circumstance. It might be explained. You +have questioned him on his movements?" + +"In two interviews," replied the inspector, puffing his cigar leisurely +and watching the smoke curl as though it were the most fascinating study +in the world just then. + +"Account not satisfactory?" + +"He has none to give." (Puff.) + +"What does he mean by that?" + +"Memory a blank between 3:30 and 7:30." (Puff.) + +"Up to some mischief, then." + +"A curiously opportune lapse," said the inspector, his eye twinkling +humorously. "So much for circumstances after the fact. And now for +opportunity." + +"Of course the evidence for opportunity will depend upon the inmates of +the house. You are convinced of Bertha's candor?" + +"On my reputation as an adept in mendacity. You have not found me +overcredulous, as a rule?" + +"Quite the contrary." + +"Bertha was upstairs, Floyd in the study, Ellen, the cook, had just gone +out. After awhile the barking of the St. Bernard in the study aroused +the girl. Something was wrong. She ran down, opened the study door and +fell back before a live crater of smoke and flame. Accident, we agree, +is out of the question. The front door was locked. There was no approach +to the study (up one flight, remember) from the street, unless you +raised a ladder to the window, and half the neighborhood would have seen +this. At least I'm sure the bake-shop girl, Senda Wesner, would have +seen it. The previous actions of Floyd were those of a criminal +meditating crime; his subsequent course until 7:30 he refuses to +explain." + +"But the motive, McCausland?" said the district attorney gravely. +McCausland contracted his beady eyelets till they shone like two pin +punctures in a lighted jack-o'-lantern. But a knock at the door delayed +his answer. The bloodhound promptly arose, grasped the knob in his +forepaws, and turning it skillfully, admitted a mulatto attendant in +fatigue uniform, the bloodhound's master patting him approvingly for the +performance. + +"Officer Costa to see the inspector," said the attendant. + +"Send him in," answered McCausland. "One of my fetch-and-carry +dogs--willing enough, but no hawk." + +"I've looked the matter up," said Officer Costa, saluting, and glancing +from McCausland to the district attorney. + +"With what result?" + +"Dennis Mungovan and Ellen Greeley were privately married on June 18, +before Justice of the Peace Gustavus Schwab, at 126 Harlow street," said +Costa, as if proud of his morsel of information and its precision of +detail. + +"Is this our Mungovan?" asked the district attorney, evincing keen +interest. + +"What was his description, Costa?" said McCausland. + +"Native of Ireland, aged 29; a coachman by occupation. The bride a cook, +born in New Brunswick." + +"Very well done. Will you look over the steerage list of the European +steamers for a fortnight back and ahead? We want that couple, if +possible." + +"I will," answered Costa, in a manner which showed that the compliment +was not wasted. Once more McCausland rose and looked out before shutting +the door. Evidently this was another of his mannerisms, and perhaps not +the least useful, since one never knows what interlopers may be harking +about. + +"We have connected numbers two and three of the triangle," he resumed as +soon as he was fairly seated, "the interests of Mr. and Mrs. Mungovan +being presumably identical." + +"I cannot; seriously I cannot credit the charge against Floyd," said the +district attorney, "in face of the tender relations known to have +subsisted between the young man and his uncle." + +"Tender"--McCausland's fat face creased all over into dimples of +merriment. "Do young men elope with their grandmothers?" + +"Not often," answered the district attorney. + +"Neither do they dote madly on their crotchety uncles in the slippers +and dressing-gowns of 78." + +"Even at 78 I should expect consideration from a nephew whom I had taken +in as an orphan and raised to wealth and position." + +"Wealth and position! Perhaps that's the rub." + +"Just what do you mean?" + +"I mean that all was not smooth in the Arnold household; that nephew and +uncle were cut too near together from the same block of granite to +match; that they wrangled constantly and that one of their wrangles led +to this very crisis of the will." + +"A will?" echoed the district attorney. + +"A will" (puff), smiled McCausland, relapsing into silence. + +"Prof. Arnold left a will?" repeated the district attorney, slowly, but +McCausland only nodded mysteriously and puffed. + +"And--and disinherited the nephew?" + +"Exactly--cut him down to $20,000." + +"Where is this will?" + +"This will was burned. It was the cause of the burning." McCausland had +lowered his voice, if anything, but the district attorney stood up in +horror. + +"More wealth changed hands by the destruction of that document," +continued the inspector, "than was converted into smoke and ashes by the +fire." + +"You mean that young Floyd planned to burn up the will which left him a +pauper, so that he might obtain his interest as heir-at-law?" + +"That's the motive you were asking for when Costa interrupted us. It was +clumsily done, wasn't it? But not so clumsily, when you look at it +further. The professor kept his valuables in an iron lock-box which he +called a safe. To blow it open was dangerous, unless"--McCausland paused +to drive his meaning home--"unless the sound of the explosion could be +smothered in the general confusion of a fire." + +"You attribute the explosions to----" + +"Placed the charge himself in a wooden box under the safe. Told Bertha a +plausible story to provide against discovery." + +"Six human lives to pay for a few paltry dollars." + +"Five million dollars! The professor must have left nearly ten and Floyd +would have shared them equally with the other nephew. Hardly a paltry +figure, $5,000,000! I've seen murder committed for a 10-cent piece." + +"But that was manslaughter in the heat of a quarrel." + +"To be sure; and by expert Sicilian carvers, with magnifying-glass eyes +and tempers formed between Etna and Vesuvius. But $5,000,000 is a +fortune, Bigelow." + +The district attorney paced up and down, meditating. At last he turned +and brought his fist down on the table so hard that the bloodhound +bayed. + +"This is murder as well as arson. I want that understood." + +"I understood it," smiled the inspector. + +"Who saw this will?" + +"There's no secret there. Its contents are common property, I should +say. It was Mrs. Arnold, the sister-in-law, who dropped me the first +hint; and Floyd himself has owned that his uncle made a will three weeks +ago, cutting him down to $20,000." + +"How did the professor come to postpone his will-making so long?" + +"Satisfied, I suppose, with the laws of intestate descent." + +"The other heir gets it all?" + +"Harry Arnold? No. I believe some goes to charity, the servants and so +on. A $10,000,000 cake will cut up into several neat slices, you know." +But the thoughts of the district attorney seemed to move habitually on a +higher plane. + +"Floyd was a sister's son. Perhaps that is why the professor preferred +him to his cousin," he said. + +"A life-long preference which does not appear in his testament, +however." + +"But why did he cast him off at the eleventh hour?" + +"The boy didn't know enough to groom and currycomb the old gentleman +properly. Only 21, you know, and self-willed. That's in the Arnold +blood. Besides, he's a socialist or anarchist, I'm told, and keeps +company with a photographic retoucher as poor as Job. Something of the +sort. Who knows? A straw will turn a man's mind at fourscore." + +"And how about Mungovan and the Greeley woman?" + +"Accomplices," said McCausland, but added more cautiously, "from present +appearances, at least." + +There was a knock on the door and the bloodhound again performed the +duties of sentinel, receiving his master's praise with such marks of +dignified gratification as became his enormous size. + +"Miss Wesner," announced the mulatto. + +"Presently," answered the inspector. "Well, action or inaction?" he +said, presenting an alternative of two fingers to the district attorney. + +"I must go over this evidence in detail. Will you send the Swedish girl +to my office again to-morrow?" + +"I think I can lay my hands on her." + +At that very moment, in another part of the city Robert Floyd was +walking down to the electric car between a squad of policemen, followed +by a motley crowd that profaned the Sabbath with its clamor. Once aboard +the swift vehicle, he was safe from pursuit, but his liberty was +short-lived. For, as a result of Noah Bigelow's second interview with +Bertha and his review of McCausland's reasoning, a warrant was made out +and he was arrested Monday noon on the charge of arson and homicide. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +HE IS TRIED IN THE BALANCE. + + +There was a pause in the little court-room when the formal proclamations +of the crier and clerk were ended. + +"Are you guilty or not guilty, Robert Floyd?" + +He bore the scrutiny of many hundred eyes calmly. Earnestness must have +been the usual expression of his face, but today its flashing eyes and +curled upper lip controlled the aquiline features and made their +dominant aspect one of defiance. + +He was olive-skinned, as his uncle may have been in his youth. His hair +was dark. Spots of dark red were burning in his cheek, and his voice, +when he spoke, of a rich contralto quality, had some subtle affiliation +with darkness, too. Altogether a Roman soul, the unprejudiced observer +would have said, but somewhat lacking in the blitheness which is proper +to youth. + +"Not guilty," the answer was recorded. + +The spectators listened in a strained and oppressive silence. Within the +bar sat old John Davidson, looking very sympathetic and not a little +perplexed as he reared his chair back against the railing. Through the +open door of an ante-room peeped the chubby form of Inspector +McCausland, cordially shaking hands with acquaintances and answering to +the sobriquet of "Dick." For professional reasons the inspector avoided +making his person known to the multitude, but once or twice he sent in +messages to the district attorney, and finally stepping to the door, +caught his eye and beckoned him outside. Noah Bigelow had been sitting +silently at the prosecutor's desk, his prodigious black beard sweeping +his breast and his tufted eyebrows leveled steadily at the prisoner, as +if to read his soul. When he rose at McCausland's signal the entire +court-room followed his broad back receding through the door of the +chamber. + +"The prisoner," said the judge, "declines the advice of counsel and +offers himself for examination unaided. He is hereby warned of his right +under the law to challenge any question which may incriminate or tend to +incriminate him. The court will see that this right is protected. We are +ready for the evidence." + +"Miss Bertha Lund," called Badger. She arose, the same tidy, buxom +maiden as ever, but pale and with traces of tears. An oath was +administered and the young woman motioned to the witness-box. + +"How long have you been a servant in the Arnold house, Miss Lund?" asked +Badger, who was conducting the case for the government. + +"Going on six years." + +"And you have known the prisoner all this time?" + +"Of course." + +"You were in at the time of the fire, on Saturday?" + +"I was." + +"And gave the alarm, did you not?" + +"I did." + +Bertha's rising inflection had hardly varied in the last three answers, +and her blue eyes were riveted on the lawyer's. + +"Won't you tell the court how you were occupied prior to your discovery +of the fire?" + +Thus directed, Bertha half-inclined her person toward the judge. + +"Part of the time I was dusting the study and part of the time I was +upstairs." + +"What were you doing upstairs?" + +"Nothing, except looking out of the window into the street." + +"What window?" + +"Mr. Robert's." + +"And what street?" + +"Cazenove street." + +"Was any one else in the house at that time?" + +"Not after Ellen went out." + +"You are sure Ellen had gone out?" + +"Well, what do you mean by sure?" + +"What made you think she had gone out?" + +"She told me she was going out. She was dressed in her street dress and +I heard the door slam. That's three reasons." + +"You heard the door slam? The front door, I suppose? There is only one +door?" + +"No, there's the back door, leading into the passageway." + +"And where does the passageway lead?" + +"Why, it runs alongside the house from Cazenove street to Broad." + +The district attorney diverted attention for a moment by making his way +to his seat through the crowd. He was the opposite of Badger in +everything; the one burly and slack, but with the stamp of moral energy +in his bearing; the other immaculate from cravat to cuff borders and +athletic if slight in build. + +"Was it the back door or the front door you heard slam, Miss Lund?" +resumed Badger, continuing to confer in an undertone with the district +attorney. + +"It was the back door, sir, I suppose." + +"Aren't you sure?" + +"Pretty sure." + +"Wasn't it probably the front door?" + +"No, it was the back door, I'm positive." + +"Then Ellen went out of the back door and left you and Floyd alone in +the house?" + +"Yes, sir, Mr. Robert and I were the only ones in." + +"Just when was this slamming of the door, at what time? With reference, +I mean, to your own movements and the movements of others in the house?" + +"Well, I was up stairs and down, in and out, and Mr. Robert was in the +study. I couldn't tell you just when." + +"Very well----" + +"And, if it's not improper, I wish to say that I am not here of my own +choosing, for as sure as my name is Bertha Lund, Robert Floyd never set +that fire." + +This sally was received in silence by the spectators. They looked +expectantly toward the judge and the attorneys. Floyd's look was as +spirited and firm as ever, as he scanned the faces packed around him, +nodding to a lady in the front bench, but letting his eyes dwell +oftenest, with a kind of interrogative look, followed by an expression +of soft satisfaction, on a younger face. It was golden-haired Emily +Barlow, transfixed with interest in the proceedings. Not even the dark +visage of the negro in the corner stood out so cameo-like from the +multitude as hers, partly by its sweetness of beauty, but more by the +parted lips and eager gaze. + +"The witness is not to volunteer opinions, but simply to give the facts +she is requested to give, clearly and truthfully, as her oath requires." +This reproof was not harshly spoken by the judge. "You may continue, Mr. +Badger." + +"Mr. Floyd was in the study, then?" + +"Yes, sir, he was." + +"Where the fire started?" + +"It started in the study." + +"Will you describe to the court, without any omissions, everything you +did and everything you saw Mr. Floyd do from the time he opened the +study door until you descended the stairway and discovered the room +afire?" + +"Well, sir, when Mr. Robert unlocked the door----" + +"Which door?" + +"The study." + +"It had been locked, then?" + +"Yes, sir; Mr. Robert had locked it after the professor died." + +"Which was on Tuesday?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Go on with your story." + +"After Mr. Robert opened the study door he was acting lonesome. I went +in and said, 'Shall I dust the room, Mr. Robert? It needs it.' 'Yes, do, +Bertha,' said he. 'I'm expecting a lawyer. Is Ellen in?' 'She was going +out,' I answered, 'but I think I heard her run upstairs to her room.' +Well, I went for the duster, and when I came back Mr. Robert was +standing over the hearth. 'Is that you, Ellen?' he said, dazed-like and +absent-minded. But when he saw it was me he only laughed." + +"What was Mr. Floyd doing when you startled him?" interposed the deep +bass of the district attorney, cutting short the progress of the girl's +high treble. + +"Why, sir, he was stooping over." + +"Over the hearth, you said?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you see anything in his hands at the time?" + +"Why, he was picking up little bits of paper, as though he had just torn +a letter to pieces." + +"Go on," said Badger, making a note of this fact. + +"While I was dusting the furniture Mr. Robert went out into the +professor's chamber and brought in the canary. The poor thing hadn't +sung since the professor died. It was he who used to feed it and talk to +it. But when Mr. Robert brought it into its old room and I pulled up the +curtains to let in the sunshine it set up such a trilling and chirping I +could hardly help crying." + +"On which floor is this study?" + +"The front room, one flight up." + +"How high above the street? You couldn't reach it from the sidewalk?" + +"Not without a ladder." + +"And you didn't keep a ladder resting against the front of your house, +usually?" + +"No more usually than other folks do." + +"There was no tree," asked the district attorney, "whose branches hung +near the window?" + +"No, sir; there was none," answered Bertha, respectfully. + +"Now, the rest of your story, Miss Lund," said Badger; "the canary bird +had been brought in. Did it perch on Floyd's finger?" + +"Canary birds will use their wings like other folks if they are let. +No, it was brought in in the cage and the cage hung on the hook, just as +it used to be." + +"Why had it been removed?" + +"So as to feed it," answered Bertha, triumphantly. + +"Was there any other living thing in the room at this time?" + +"Is a dog a living thing?" Being human, Bertha resented catechising. The +temptation to answer one question by another is strong, even when one +isn't a New-Englander by birth. + +"Previous to its death, it may be considered alive," answered Badger, +dryly. + +"Well, Sire was there." + +"A dog, I presume, from your last response. Continue from the point when +the cage was brought in." + +"I went upstairs, as I told you before, when I had finished my dusting. +Then I sat down in Mr. Robert's room." + +"Was that all you did?--to sit down?" + +"Yes." + +Bertha's replies had gradually come down to monosyllabic length and it +looked as if the next step might be silence. But the district attorney +interposed with a nod and a smile, which worked like magic in loosening +her tongue. + +"Well," she continued, "I was sitting at Mr. Robert's window when I +noticed Sire's barking. I thought it was odd if he was playing with Mr. +Robert, they both took on so at the professor's death. But it kept up +and kept up, so I slipped down to see and the first thing I smelled was +smoke. It was leaking out through the study keyhole and I could hear +Sire barking and pawing at the knob inside. Of course I opened the door +and rushed in to save the canary, but the fire stung me so I thought I +was suffocated. Sire began running around and I called for Mr. Robert, +thinking he was in the room, for the smoke was hiding everything. Oh, I +tell you my heart stopped when my voice came back to me all hollow in +that empty house. It was then I ran down to the street." + +"One moment, Miss Lund. Did you or did you not observe anything new or +unusual in the room when you were engaged in dusting the chairs?" + +"No, sir; I don't remember anything unusual." + +"How long were you upstairs?" + +"I couldn't say. I'm not good at guessing time. There are some folks, +like Senda Wesner, seem to have a clock going in their heads, but I'm +not one of them. Perhaps it was ten minutes." + +"Miss Lund," the district attorney stroked his great beard, as he was +apt to do in driving home a crucial question. "Can you now fix more +precisely the moment of the door slam, which you say convinced you of +Ellen's departure?" + +"No, sir; the door slam," Bertha touched her forehead, trying to +remember, "the door slam is all mixed up with the barking and fire, so I +can't untangle it at all." + +"It seems to be a part of this chain of events you have just narrated so +clearly for us? You think, you thought at the time, it was Ellen leaving +the house?" + +"Yes, sir. It was the back door. Who else could it be? Besides, Mr. +Robert was quiet. He never slammed the door." + +"I simply wanted the girl's best evidence to the fact that they were +alone in the house at this time," said the district attorney. + +"But the girl, Ellen, seems to have been about until the fire was set," +answered the judge. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +AND IS FOUND WANTING. + + +After the noon recess Bertha was called to finish her testimony, with +the promise that she would not be detained long. + +"A description of the study, Miss Lund, when you were dusting." + +"Everything was left just as it was when the professor fell dead on the +threshold Tuesday evening." + +"Did you notice any foreign substance--any accumulation of what might +afford fuel for a fire?" + +"No, sir." + +"Any odor?" + +"Only that the room was close from being shut up." + +"Describe the contents of the room." + +"Well, it was full of books, on shelves that ran all around." + +"Yes?" + +"Two windows; a cage before one, the nearest to the door, and a writing +desk before the one in the farthest corner." + +"Well?" + +"A safe partly built in the wall beside the door." + +"How high from the ground?" + +"About up to my waist." + +"Did you notice anything underneath it?" + +"Yes, there was the gunpowder box Mr. Robert put there." + +"A box full of gunpowder placed there by Floyd?" + +"Yes, sir." + +This statement made a profound impression, but Badger did not push the +subject further. The prisoner almost smiled. + +"Well?" Badger said. + +"Oh, everything else was just as the professor left it. His slippers +under his chair, his dressing-gown over the back of it, his spectacles +on the desk, his bible laid down open. He was going to meet a caller, +you know, when he was taken with the stitch." + +"Very well. Perhaps we have had enough of the professor," said Badger. +But the accused did not find these minutiae trivial. For the first time +his proud face broke and he hid the tears with his hand. The mention of +the bible, slippers and the other personal mementos had called up the +dearest picture he ever knew. + +All the grand life, equally compounded of whims and principles, passed +before him at Bertha's mention of the empty chair. + +But the sympathy of the spectators was short-lived. While Robert wept a +strain of sad music stole into the court-room. Faint at first, it rose +in volume as the players approached, but still with a muted sound, as if +their instruments were muffled. The drum-beats were rare and +unobtrusive, and the burden of the melody, if melody it were, was borne +by proud bugles and quivering oboes. Its cadences were old and +mysterious, like some Gregorian chant intoned in cloisters before organ +and orchestra had trained our ears to the chords of harmony. No wonder +the court-room was hushed until it died away in the distance. + +It was the Masonic dead march, for on this day the funerals of the dead +whom Robert Floyd was accused of murdering were being held. Oscar +Schubert, as a member of the mystic order, was buried with all the pomp +of its ceremonies, and it was his cortege, proceeding to the sepulcher, +whose passage occasioned this pause in the trial. + +The revulsion of sympathy was instant. Every man in the court-room saw +the wife and two children, sitting behind drawn curtains in the carriage +of the chief mourners, and beyond this picture the bodies of six +victims, four of them young girls, done to death at the prompting of +avarice. The prisoner himself seemed to understand, for he shut his +teeth, though his bold eyes still dared the multitude. But they rested +more and more upon the lovely face which was his one point of +consolation in that unfriendly assemblage. Badger's indifferent voice +showed no quiver when he asked Miss Lund to step down and called for +Robert Floyd. It was a brusque opening. + +"What was contained in the safe in your uncle's study?" + +"I never opened it." + +"You knew, however?" + +"What he had told me." + +"Was his will there?" + +"I have reason to believe so." + +"Did you believe so on Saturday, while you were in the room with Miss +Lund?" + +"I did not give the matter any thought at that time." Floyd spoke as +though the spirit burned hot within him. "And I will add----" + +"Nothing," said Badger. But the judge looked up. + +"This is a court, not a court-martial," he said, quietly, a pale, +studious man. "The witness has a right to modify his answers." + +"I have only this to say," continued Floyd, "to hasten as much as +possible this preposterous trial, that I indorse every word of Miss +Lund's testimony, and accept it and proffer it as my own upon the points +which it covers." + +"We prefer----" But the district attorney interrupted his assistant. +"Are you aware, Mr. Floyd, of the gravity of the position in which Miss +Lund's testimony involves you? Sole opportunity is almost the major head +among those which the government is required to prove." + +"I accept it in toto, subject to the privilege of volunteering a +statement if my examination is incomplete or misleading." + +"We shall endeavor to make it both adequate and fair," said the district +attorney. + +"Leaving the safe for a moment," resumed the examiner, "will you kindly +relate your movements, Mr. Floyd, subsequent to the time when Bertha +left you to go upstairs?" + +The young man hesitated. The pause was so long as to be embarrassing. +Old John Davidson coughed loudly to relieve his agitation. When the +witness spoke at last he seemed to be remembering with difficulty. + +"I remember leaving the house and walking about among the fields, in the +park, I think. Yes, I took a car for the park. In the evening I called +upon Miss Barlow." + +He looked up at the aureoled face and faintly smiled. The sight appeared +to revive him. "From that point my recollections become as distinct as +usual. But----" He hesitated once more and Badger left him unaided in +his distress. "The truth is, this was my first visit since his death to +my uncle's study. The executor had telegraphed and afterward written me +to close and lock it. This I did. But that afternoon I was expecting a +visit from him----" + +"Who is this executor?" + +"Mr. Hodgkins Hodgkins." + +"Of the firm of Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins?" + +"I believe so. My aunt, Mrs. Arnold, had called at 3 o'clock to say that +he had arrived from New York and would take possession of the papers +that afternoon. So I unlocked the room and let the servant dust it. The +whole meaning of my loss seemed to come over me then, when I saw the +empty chair. Before that I had been calm enough. But the sight dazed and +staggered me. I went out, fled, taking no note of time or place. I +believe, I know, I was in the park, but until I arrived at Miss +Barlow's, outward occurrences made little memorable impression upon me." + +"I presume you saw or were seen by persons on the way?" + +"I do not remember any one in particular." + +"Are we to understand," said the district attorney, listening intently, +"that you passed this long period in a species of reverie or trance?" + +"An intense fit of abstraction," answered Robert; but the district +attorney looked puzzled, as if an utterly new and virgin problem had +been put before him to solve. + +"Without food until you returned at 11 o'clock to the fire?" asked +Badger. + +"Excepting a light lunch at Miss Barlow's. Her mother noticed some +fatigue in me and pressed me to take refreshment." + +"Was there no mention of the fire there--a fire which was destroying +your home?" + +"We spoke of it casually, but I did not know until later that it was +destroying my home." + +"Was it not described in the evening papers?" + +"Not in the early editions, Badger," put in the district attorney. "Only +in the later specials." + +"Very well. Now let us get back to the safe. Your uncle had made a will, +I believe?" + +"He made a will several weeks ago." + +"What were the terms of that document?" + +"I do not know them in full." + +"As to your share?" + +"My legacy was $20,000." + +"Out of an estate valued at?" + +"I have heard $10,000,000." + +"You are an anarchist, Mr. Floyd?" + +"No, sir." + +"But a radical of some sort?" + +"I am a socialist; a developer, not a destroyer." + +"Ah!" said Badger. His exclamation was icy cold. "And you differed from +your uncle on other points, did you not?" + +"We took the liberty of honest men to differ." + +"In religion?" + +"Yes. He was a high churchman. I am--simply a Christian." + +This avowal of a creed brought titters among the spectators, who +apparently were accustomed to definitions narrower if more precise. + +"And as a result of these quarrels your uncle disinherited you?" + +"Sir?" + +For a moment the prisoner's outburst of indignation checked the current +of opinion which had been flowing swiftly against him. + +"In one sentence you have managed to outrage the dead as well as the +living--and to convey two impressions distinctly false. My uncle and I +never quarreled, never! He was a father and more than a father to me. +Neither did he disinherit me. It was his wish to assign me the whole +property. I begged him to omit me without more than a memento or +keepsake, that I might enter life as he had done, as every man should, +untrammeled--but with the advantage, I feel sure, of an example and an +inspiration given to few to enjoy. The sum left me was far in excess of +my desires." + +There was another long silence after this statement, but it expressed +only incredulity. + +"When was this very extraordinary will drawn up?" + +"Three weeks ago." + +"The witnesses are living, then? It is to be presumed that they, too, +were not carried off by the holocaust which so reduced our population +last Saturday." Badger's sarcasm was brutal, but it told. + +"The witnesses were three neighbors, called in. The servants could not +act, as they were remembered in the document." + +"No lawyer was present?" + +"My uncle seldom employed a lawyer." + +Such a statement, relating to a man of Prof. Arnold's wealth, might have +excited doubt if his eccentricity on this point had not been noised +about beforehand. + +"He drew up the will himself, then? Has any one seen it except you?" + +"Not so far as I know. I myself never saw it." + +"But you knew it was in the safe?" + +"I supposed so." + +"One moment," said the district attorney, interrupting. "Once more, why +did you reopen the study on this particular day?" + +"Because I had been informed that Mr. Hodgkins was coming to remove the +will." + +"By whom were you so informed?" + +"Mrs. Arnold drove up about 3 o'clock and mentioned the fact. Indeed, +she had expected to find him at the house. He was an old acquaintance of +hers, as well as of my uncle--her legal adviser, in fact." + +A stylish woman, still fair in spite of her 50 years, was sitting in +front of Robert as he testified. She was the widow of Benjamin Arnold's +brother, Henry, and her son, Henry, or Harry, had just offered a reward +of $5,000 for the incendiary--a sum which McCausland might well have +hopes of securing. The inspector was still hovering about the threshold +of his ante-room, and now that Floyd's examination was concluded he +called the district attorney to one side, apparently urging him to +reserve the remainder of his evidence, which would naturally consist of +rebuttal of Floyd and corroboration of Bertha. At any rate, Mr. Badger +arose, and, announcing that the case was closed, offered a summary of +the evidence, rapid, methodical, but unimpressive, like himself. Then +the prisoner was asked if he desired to speak in his own behalf. + +"Your honor," he said, "this monstrous charge of having set on foot a +fire in the most populous section of our noble city overwhelms me so +that I am impotent to express the indignation I feel. I leave it to your +own sense of justice, your own discrimination, whether I am to be +dishonored with the suspicion of an infamous crime, on evidence so +flimsy that the bare denial of a veracious man should be sufficient to +upset it. I read in many faces around me the hunger for blood; the +unthinking call for a victim. Heed that, and my good name is taken from +me. I am irreparably wronged. Resist it, and you will prove yourself +worthy of the honorable title which you bear." + +Not a few were swayed toward the youth by his manifest emotion. But the +judge waited fully a minute before he arose and his eyeglasses were +trembling in his hand. + +"You have elected, against good counsel," he began, "to be your own +advocate. I cannot and do not adjudge you unsuccessful, in the sense of +having demonstrated your guilt rather than your innocence. But that you +have failed to break the government's chain of evidence in its most +damaging links--sole opportunity, motive and suspicious conduct, +especially after the act--is plain to me, and would be plain to any mind +accustomed to weighing such evidence calmly. + +"It is true the evidence is wholly circumstantial. No eye but God's saw +this foul deed done. But since William Rufus was found dead in the New +Forest, with Walter Tyrrell's arrow in his breast, men have been +convicted of murder on circumstantial evidence, and will continue to be +so convicted as long as probability remains the guide of life. + +"I am obliged, therefore, to remand you for trial, not only on the +charge of arson, but upon the graver charge of homicide involved in it +under the peculiar circumstances of the case. This is not a final +verdict. Far be it from me, one erring man, to say that the government +has fastened this crime upon you beyond reasonable doubt. But in the +face of the evidence which has been brought forward I could not order +your release. It becomes my unhappy duty, as the examining magistrate, +to commit you to custody, to await the approaching session of the grand +jury." + +When Emily Barlow awoke from her swoon she found herself in the arms of +old John Davidson. Perhaps it was as well she did not hear the jeer of +execration which greeted the prisoner outside when he passed over the +sidewalk, ironed between two stalwart officers, into the jail van. +McCausland's identification with the case had affected public opinion +profoundly, for he was said never to have failed to convict a criminal +whom he had once brought into court. But possibly the outburst was due +to the circumstance that this was the neighborhood in which the Lacy +girls lived and that their funeral had taken place that very morning. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE CLOUDS THICKEN. + + +"Shagarach is the man to defend him, Miss Barlow," said old John +Davidson. She was lying back against the cushions of the cab, with +cheeks as white as the handkerchief she held to her lips. For the +marshal had kindly offered to accompany her home and she had told him +part of her story. + +She was, as McCausland had said to the district attorney, a photographic +retoucher. You must know that a negative when it leaves the camera is no +more fit for display than milk fresh from the cow is drinkable. All the +minor blemishes which you and I, not being made in the stamp of bluff +old Oliver, dislike to see perpetuated in our counterfeit presentments, +must be carefully stippled out. The work is not without its irksomeness, +requiring long hours of labor as well as firmness of touch. The strain +upon the young lady's eyes was evident, and her face, for all its +beauty, was as delicate as thinnest porcelain. One felt that her +fingers, if she held them toward the sun, would show the red suffusion +of a child's. But her earnings supported a family of five, and her +character had won the love of Robert Floyd. + +"Who is Shagarach?" she asked, as if struck by the name. + +"Shagarach! Why, Shagarach's the coming man, the greatest criminal +lawyer in the state and the greatest cross-examiner in the world--a mind +reader, black art in it. Never lost a case." + +"This is my number, Mr. Davidson." + +"Ho, there! John! Cabby!" The marshal rapped at the window. + +"What was the number, miss?" + +"Four hundred and twelve." + +"Stop at 412." + +"You have been very kind to interest yourself in one who is not known to +you, Mr. Davidson. I should have been badly off without your +assistance." + +"Didn't do half enough," answered the marshal. "Glad to be of service. +Call on me again. Here's Shagarach's address. Take my advice and look +him up." + +He had been writing on the back of a card while the cab-driver was +slowing his team around in front of Miss Barlow's door. It read in a +scrawl, rendered half-illegible by the jolting: "Meyer Shagarach, 31 +Putnam Street." + +Emily looked twice at the singular name. McCausland never failed to +convict his prisoners. Shagarach's clients invariably escaped. What +would happen if the two were pitted against each other? This was her +thought when she mounted the dear steps of home and fell weeping into +the arms of her mother. + +The following morning a remarkable discovery was made on the site of +Prof. Arnold's house. The burned district had been roped off and was +guarded by policemen, owing to the danger from the standing walls and +still smoking debris. But tip-carts had begun to remove what was +removable of the wreck, and the work of clearing away the ground was +already well under way. Sight-seers in great numbers went out of their +course to pass the ruins, for the Harmon building was of recent erection +and had been styled a model of business architecture. + +But "Toot" Watts, "Turkey" Fenton and "The Whistler" were not indulging +in reminiscences of departed architectural glories that morning. They +averaged 14 years and 110 pounds, a combination hostile to sentiment in +any but its most robust forms. "That nutty duffer gives me a pain," was +their unanimous criticism from the gallery of the "Grand Dime," upon the +garden rhapsodies of their co-mate and brother in adolescence, Romeo. +But in the evenings, if that long fence, which is the gamin's delight, +happened to be under surveillance from the "cop," they would march up +street and down, Turkey mouthing his harmonica, Toot opening and +shutting a wheezy accordion, the Whistler fifing away with that +thrush-like note to which he owed his nickname, and all three beating +time by their own quick footsteps to the melody of some sweet, familiar +song. Amid such surroundings even the ditties sung by our mothers many +seasons ago can bring up wholesome sentiments in which the boyish +musicians who evoke them are surely sharers. + +On the day before Toot had surreptitiously conveyed a fresh egg to +school and rolled it playfully down the aisle, whereupon Turkey, as he +was walking out at 4, had set the stamp of approval on his friend's +property. All three had decided to take a day off until the affair +should blow over, and no better pastime suggested itself than a visit to +the fire, in which they took a sort of proprietary interest, since they +had been the first after the bake-shop girl, to arrive on the spot. The +passageway beside the house was still left open and unguarded. So our +urchins, approaching from the Broad street side, coolly entered the +forbidden precincts thereby, thus eluding the blue-coated watchers by a +flank movement as simple as it was effective. + +"I'm goin' to pick up junk and sell it to Bagley," said Turkey, filling +his pocket with bolts, nuts and other fragments which he deemed of +value. The others followed his example and began rummaging about with +insecure footing among the heaps. + +"Whew!" the Whistler emitted a long-drawn note no flute could possibly +rival. He had been brushing away the ashes from a heavy object, when his +eye was attracted by a fragment of cloth, which clung about it. His +whistle drew the attention of his companions, but it also invited a less +welcome arrival, no other than one of the patrolmen doing guard duty, +who swooped down and seized Turkey and the Whistler by their collars, +while Toot scrambled off with unseemly haste and escaped down the +alleyway. + +"What are you doing here?" said the officer, shaking the boys till their +teeth chattered, and several pieces of iron, dropping out of Turkey's +pockets, disclosed the object of their visit. "Stealing junk, eh?" + +"Say, look," said the Whistler, who was cool and inventive; "it's a +woman." He was pointing to the object he had laid bare. The officer +slackened his grip. + +"My God!" he cried; then stooped and by a full exertion of his strength +lifted the thing out of the ashes and half-burned timbers which overlay +it. It was, indeed, the body of a woman, short and stout. The boys did +not run. They looked on, spellbound, in open-mouthed wonder. + +"Run and call the sergeant," said the policeman to his quondam captives. + +The news spread like wildfire. Hundreds swarmed to the scene, but none +among them who had the key to the woman's identity. Her charred face and +burned body rendered identification difficult. It was Inspector +McCausland who, after consulting his notebook, recognized the garment +and the form which it clad as Ellen Greeley's. An ambulance was called +and the corpse of the poor woman carried away to the morgue, to await +her sister's instructions. + +Senda Wesner, the bake-shop girl, had described this discovery for the +eleventh time to her customers, and was standing on the steps of her +store alone--a condition to which she was by nature averse--when the +golden-haired lady "flashed in upon her," as she afterward said, "like a +Baltimore oriole." It was Emily Barlow, who had run down during her +lunch hour to the scene of the tragedy. At the first mention of her +name, Miss Wesner knew her. + +"Oh, you're the young lady he kept company with," she said. "Isn't it +too bad? I don't believe he ever did it. No man in his senses would set +his own house afire and then walk out in broad daylight, as I saw Mr. +Floyd do." + +"You saw Mr. Floyd coming out, then? Pardon my curiosity, but I am so +deeply interested----" + +"I shouldn't think much of you if you were not," said Senda Wesner. "I'm +glad to tell all I know about it, and I can't see for the life of me why +they didn't call me to the stand." + +Emily saw that no apology was needed for questioning the bake-shop girl. +She was easy to make free with and fond of running on. Being a little +reticent herself, Emily was glad to be relieved of the necessity of +putting inquiries. So she simply guided the little gossip's talk. + +"You did see Mr. Floyd leave the house? Was it long before the fire +broke out?" + +"Four or five minutes. I'd noticed Bertha raising the curtains--two +Washington pies? yes'm--I'd seen Bertha up in the study, I say, but then +Joe Tyke, Joey, we call him, the cripple newsboy, though he is quite a +man now, but he never grew, deformed, you know--Joey was trundling +himself along on his little cart, and I couldn't take my eyes off of +him--20 cents, yes'm." The bake-shop girl continued to spread jam, ladle +milk and wrap warm loaves in fresh brown paper, all the while, but her +interruptions only formed tiny ripples on her flowing stream of prattle. +"Then Mr. Robert came out and walked down to the corner slowly. But do +you know what puzzled me? What was he stooping over the hearth for and +picking up those pieces of paper?" + +"People often do that. Perhaps he had torn up a letter and some of it +had scattered outside the fireplace." + +"Well, I didn't see another thing, not one thing, against him," said +Miss Wesner, decidedly. Her ideas on the value of evidence were +certainly of the most feminine order. "I'm sure he's a young man of the +highest reputation. Never smoked or drank or----" + +"You didn't see any other person coming out of the house?" + +"No, I didn't. Yes, Gertrude, and how's your mamma? That's a sweet +thing, only 10 years old, but does all the errands and half the +housework for her mother, that's sick, and never slaps the baby." + +"Or any stranger about?" edged in Emily again, when the spigot was +finally turned off and the waters of gossip had ceased to run. + +"Do you know----" The bake-shop girl dimpled her cheek with her +forefinger. It was a healthy cheek, but not beautiful. "Do you know, +there has been the oddest peddler around here for the last three weeks?" + +"Do tell me about him. What did he look like? A stranger?" + +"Never passed this street before as long as I know and that's a good +many years. He was a sunburnt sort of man, like all the peddlers (only +I'd say homelier, if I wasn't a fright myself), and with crazy blue +eyes. Always came in a green cart and sold vegetables, no, once potted +plants. But how he would yodel. Why, he'd make you deaf. Ellen used to +buy of him sometimes. Nobody else ever did, and it's my opinion when he +left the Arnolds he used to whip up his horse and hurry right round the +corner." + +"Was this peddler here lately?" + +"Not since Friday, the day before the fire; I'm positive." + +"He wasn't here Saturday?" + +"No, he wasn't. But I must say, peddler or no peddler, I don't believe +Robert Floyd ever set that fire." + +There was more that Senda Wesner believed and disbelieved--so much, +indeed, that when Emily left her she had asked herself twice what a room +full of Senda Wesners would be like. But she checked this uncharitable +thought. The girl was good-hearted and her information about the peddler +might prove a clew. After making a half-circuit of the house which was +so familiar to her, for she had visited it often, she returned to her +stippling pencil in the photograph gallery, pondering now upon the +identity of the strange peddler, now upon the sad fate of Ellen Greeley, +and oftenest of all on the lover who was spending his first day in the +solitude of a felon's cell. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +ENTER SHAGARACH. + + +"Meyer Shagarach, Attorney-at-Law." + +The shingle could not have been more commonplace, the office stairs more +dingy. A Jewish boy opened the door at Emily's knock and a young man of +the same persuasion arose from his desk and bustled forward to inquire +her business. + +"Meester Shagarach is in. Did you wish to see him?" + +After a moment a second door was opened and Emily was motioned into the +inner office. + +"This way, madam." + +The man writing at the table barely glanced up at first, but, seeing who +his visitor was, he rose and placed a seat for her. There was courtesy +but no geniality in the gesture. Shagarach did not smile. It was said +that he never smiled. + +From the beginning Emily felt that she was in the presence of a man of +destiny. Before sitting down her intuitions had determined her to enlist +this force on Robert's side at any cost. Shagarach's body was small, his +clothing mean and crinkled all over, as if its owner spent many hours +daily crouched in a chair. But the face drew one's gaze and absorbed it. +With care it might have been handsome, though the dead-black beard grew +wild and the hair, tossed carelessly to one side, fell back at +intervals, requiring to be brushed in place by the owner's hand. Under +the smooth, bony brow that marks the Hebrew shone two eyes of +extraordinary splendor, the largest, Emily thought, she had ever seen, +and set the widest apart--brown and melting as a dog's, but glowing, as +no dog's ever did, with profundities of human intelligence. Wide open at +all times, they cast penetrating glances, never sidelong, always +full--the eyes of a soul-searcher, a student of those characters, +legible but elusive; which the spirit writes upon its outer garment. +Their physical dimensions lent a large power to the face, as if more of +the visible world could be comprehended within those magnificent organs +than the glances of ordinary men compass. But the mouth below seemed +rigid as granite, even during the play of speech. + +"My name is Miss Barlow," said Emily. + +"Come to engage my services for Floyd?" he inquired. It was his habit to +cut into the heart of a problem at the first stroke and Emily felt +grateful on the whole that the preliminaries were shortened. + +"Mr. Floyd is innocent and I want you to save him." + +"Why did he not employ an advocate?" + +"The judge----" + +"Pursued the only course open to him. The evidence was damaging. What +have you learned since yesterday?" + +"Ellen Greeley----" + +"Is dead. The dog's instincts were right then. There was some one +inside. Aronson." + +The young man answered this peremptory call. + +"My Evening Beacon." + +It was brought at once. + +"The newspapers are correct in their surmise. Ellen Greeley went +upstairs, as Bertha testified. The day was hot. She lay upon the bed in +her own room, and fell asleep. The barking of Sire did not wake her. +Her room was in the rear, two flights up. The shouting of the crowd did +not wake her. The fire may have waked her too late and her shrieks +escaped notice in the uproar; or she may have been suffocated during her +nap." + +Shagarach spoke in a clear, loud voice that expressed and carried +conviction. Emily wondered at his familiarity, far surpassing her own, +with the details of the case. + +"You see the improvement in our cause at once?" + +Emily tried hard to think. + +"Of course it proved Ellen could not have been a confederate," she +suggested, modestly. + +"Ellen Greeley sleeping in the attic chamber, who slammed the door?" + +Shagarach's eyes shone like carbuncles. "It was not Floyd. He was not in +the habit of slamming doors. And no man seeking to escape does that +which will attract attention--unless"--he dwelt on the word +significantly--"unless he is fleeing in haste." + +"Then you believe, Mr. Shagarach----" + +"It was the back door which slammed. They failed to confuse Bertha on +that. It slammed after Floyd had gone out. Did Floyd go out the back +door?" + +"Miss Wesner, the young lady who lives opposite, saw him coming down the +front steps." + +"When?" + +"Four or five minutes before the fire." + +"Ellen did not go out the back door. Floyd did not go out the back door. +Some one else did." + +"And you will take the case, Mr. Shagarach?" Emily awaited his answer as +breathlessly as if Robert's life or death hung in a trembling balance +which Shagarach's finger could tip to one side or the other. + +"It interests me. Have you a photograph of the accused with you?" + +"No," answered Emily, thinking the request somewhat strange. + +Shagarach began gazing at her with extraordinary intensity. The great +will inclosed in his little body seemed to bear down hard upon her so as +really to hurt. But she felt no resentment, only a kind of satisfied +acquiescence, as if all were for the best. Yet, among ordinary people +Emily was an individuality rare and fragrant, asserting herself +forcefully, without being in the least self-assertive. + +"Have you anything else?" asked the lawyer. Emily did not know how long +the interim was. + +"There is the strange peddler," she ventured to say. This time his +answer was an interrogative look. + +"Miss Wesner spoke of him today--a vegetable vender, who has been coming +to the Arnold's for the last few weeks----" + +"How many?" + +"Three or four, I think." + +"Since the will was made, then?" + +"And dealing with Ellen. About the will----" + +"Let us finish with the peddler." + +"He had blue eyes and drove a cart painted green. Nobody had ever seen +him in the neighborhood before, till he came selling vegetables and +potted plants. His last visit was made on Friday." + +"Not Saturday, the day of the fire?" + +"Miss Wesner, who is very observing, has not seen him since Friday." + +"Not as a peddler," said Shagarach, sotto voce. "Now as to the will. You +wish to say that Floyd has told you of his uncle's desire to make him +sole heir and his own aversion to the responsibilities of so large a +property." + +"Does he practice clairvoyance?" asked Emily of herself. + +"Robert is no lover of money," she said. "To allege avarice against him +as a motive is monstrous." + +"Avarice, Miss Barlow? To love money is not avarice. Men grow to their +opportunities. Without opportunities they wither and without money today +there is no opportunity." + +"The artist--does his genius gain or lose when it is gilded?" replied +Emily, who felt a match even for Shagarach in the defense of her lover. + +"The artist--ah, he is not of the world! Gold might well be to him an +incumbrance. But to the worker among men it is the key to a thousand +coffers." + +There was deep feeling in these words of the criminal lawyer. Emily +wondered if there might not have been a past of poverty, perhaps of +spiritual aspiration and disappointment in his life, all subdued to the +present indomitable aim at fortune and reputation. + +"The refusal was a folly, a stripling's fatal blunder--yet a blunder of +which not three men in our city are capable. Let us leave the will. It +may reappear in its proper sequence. No suspicious character was seen +loitering about or leaving the house on Saturday?" + +"My inquiries have been limited to Miss Wesner." + +"Aronson!" + +The young man reappeared as before. + +"Make thorough inquiry this evening in the neighborhood of the Arnold +house, rear and front, for a stranger seen loitering about the premises +or issuing from them on Saturday afternoon." + +"Yes, Miss Barlow, I have a theory," resumed Shagarach, turning to Emily +again. He folded his arms and looked at her steadfastly, yet as though +his gaze were fixed on something beyond. + +"I see your lover's photograph in your eyes--mild blue eyes, but +touchstones of integrity, hard to deceive. He impresses me well. His +story, moreover, bears a somewhat uncommon voucher. It is true because +of its improbability. How improbable that any man would refuse a gift of +$10,000,000! How improbable that any man, not a sleep-walker, would +wander through the streets of a city without any record of his sensuous +impressions!" + +"But----" + +"The improbability of the story demonstrates its truth. Men lie, women +lie, children lie. Have you watched a band of girls playing at the +imitation of school? How cunningly the teacher feigns anger, the pupils +naughtiness and sad repentance. Have you observed the plausibility in +the inventions of toddling babes to escape imminent chastisement? +Falsehood is a normal faculty and equipped with its protective armor, +plausibility. Your friend's story is too preposterous to be untrue." + +Emily was bewildered by these rapid paradoxes. + +"I congratulate you upon your friendship with so unusual a specimen of +our kind, the man who cannot or will not lie. But I should not like to +present his defense on such grounds to twelve of his fellow-creatures, +normal in that respect. Fortunately we are not driven to that extreme +refuge. + +"The material for a theory is meager; the chain shows many gaps. But I +find no evidence that Floyd attempted to get rid of the servant, Bertha. +A child, meditating this crime, would not have neglected so obvious a +precaution. Her continued absence was only an opportune accident. Her +re-entrance would have resulted in his discovery. The point is pivotal. + +"I find that a favorite house dog was left in the room to be +sacrificed--a needless cruelty if the incendiary were his master, a +necessary precaution if he were a stranger whose actions the animal +would have understood and whom he would have followed to the street." + +"But would Sire have allowed a stranger even to enter the study?" + +"True; but between strangers and friends there is a middle category +consisting of persons whom we may call acquaintances. Into these three +degrees we are divided by dogkind. It was not a stranger or he would +have been attacked. He had no friends left but Bertha, Ellen and Floyd. +The dog was drowsing on the mat. The man who entered was an +acquaintance. + +"Who was this man? We have a few items of his description. Some one +known to the dog, familiar with the premises and interested in the +destruction of the document of which that house, that room and that safe +were the triple-barred shrine. An expert criminal could have destroyed +the safe without detection, but the incendiary was an amateur, and such +an act would require time. There was no time, not an instant. The +executor was to arrive that afternoon. McCausland started right. The +Harmon building was destroyed and seven lives sacrificed in order that +Benjamin Arnold's will might be irrevocably canceled. Who benefited by +its destruction? + +"The professor had desired to make Robert Floyd his sole heir, in other +words, to disinherit Harry Arnold!" + +Shagarach's monologue had reached its climax. The name of the other +cousin came out like the ring of a hammer. He waited, as if yielding +Emily an opportunity to object, but as she sat passive and expectant, he +went on, his arms still folded, and his glowing eyes evincing deep +absorption in the problem he was elucidating. + +"Harry Arnold was in disfavor, then. The drafting of the will must have +been communicated to him, but probably not its items. The mere fact, +however, was ominous. It might mean the loss of a fortune. One of the +servants was dressing 'uncommonly rich' of late. The wherewithal came to +her as payment for conveying to Harry Arnold all she could pick up about +the will. It may not have been pleasant news. + +"It was from Mrs. Arnold McCausland first learned of the will. It was +Harry Arnold who hastened to advertise a reward of $5,000--McCausland's +fee if----" + +"As to the fee," said Emily. + +"I understand; the legacy of $20,000 amply protects me." + +Emily was uncertain whether or not Shagarach meant to demand the whole +$20,000 for his services. + +"I find that the flies were about the honey pot. Mrs. Arnold's carriage +drove up about 3 o'clock. The executor was to call that afternoon. +Revelation could not be long delayed. The plot was desperately formed, +favored by circumstance and executed by Harry Arnold and his +accomplices." + +"But Harry Arnold has been ill, Mr. Shagarach." + +"The name of his physician?" + +"I believe, Dr. Whipple, the pathologist. You suspect Harry, then, of +the crime?" + +"I have not studied him yet. This is only an alternative theory. You see +how easily it could have been constructed in your friend's behalf. + +"Mungovan, the discharged coachman, has not yet been found. The strange +peddler may prove a confederate. You will send Bertha to me. She is the +central witness. Is Floyd in jail?" + +"Yes," said Emily, sadly; "but a permit----" + +"I shall not need one. I am his counsel." + +Emily descended the creaking stairway and rode home with a certain new +elation, such as we sometimes feel after contact with some electric +character, some grand reservoir of human vitality. Meyer Shagarach +meanwhile began pacing up and down, occasionally speaking to himself +sotto voce. + +A criminal lawyer, but with the head of an imperial chancellor. + +What was known of this rare man's history? About thirty years before he +was born in a small town on the upper Nile, a descendant of those mighty +Jewish families whose expulsion impoverished Spain, while spreading her +tongue throughout the orient, even beyond the Turcoman deserts to the +unvisited cities of Khiva and Merv. Languages were his birthright, as +naturally and almost as numerously as the digits on his hands. In his +youth his father had wandered to America--refuge of all wild, strange +spirits of the earth--and died, leaving a widow and a son. The boy had +been visionary, unpractical--a white blackbird among his tribe. For +years he had struggled to support his mother, first as an attorney's +drudge, then as a scribbler. There was no market for his wares. Then by +a sudden wrench, showing the vise-like strength of his will, he had +burst the bubble of his early hopes and chosen for his profession that +of all professions which requires the most thorough subjection of the +sentiments. It was six years since he had first rented the obscure +quarters he now occupied, the same where, as a lad, he had sighed away +many hours of distasteful toil. + +For the first two years Shagarach's face showed the desperation of his +fortunes. His own people shunned him as a seceder from the synagogue. To +the public he was still unknown. But one day a trivial case had matched +him against a certain eminent pleader, a Goliath in stature and in +skill. The end of the day's tourney witnessed his bulk prostrated +before the undersized scion of the house of David. From that hour the +dimensions of his fame had grown apace. Critics noticed an occasional +simplicity in everyday matters, just as a gifted foreigner who has +become eloquent in our tongue may have to ask some commonplace native +for a word now and then. Rivals questioned his technical learning, who +had little else to boast. Yet Shagarach's knowledge, practical or legal, +was always found adequate to his cause. Whether he was pedantically +profound in the law or not might be an open question. But all who knew +him at all knew him for a Titan. + +The man appeared to be lonely by nature. Excepting the young assistant, +Aronson, he associated no colleague with him, carrying all the details +of his growing volume of business in his own capacious mind. Other men +made memoranda. Shagarach remembered. What he might be in himself none +knew; yet "all things to all men" was a motto he spurned. Shagarach was +Shagarach to judge or scullion, everywhere masterful, unruffled, +mysterious. Were it not for the luminous eyes he might be taken for an +abstract thinker. These orbs supplied the magnetism to rivet crowds and +suggested a seer of deep soul-secrets (unknown even to their possessor), +dormant, perhaps subdued, but not annihilated, under the exterior +equipment of the criminal lawyer. + +Shagarach often colloqued with himself as he was doing now. In his +trials, though he neither badgered witnesses nor wrangled with +opponents, he was noted for sotto-voce comments, sometimes ironical, +that seemed scarcely conscious. These mannerisms might be relics of a +solitary pre-existence, in which the habit of thinking aloud had been +formed. + +"Was it Arnold or Mungovan who touched the match?" He continued his +pacing in silence. "Both knew the premises, Mungovan the better of the +two." + +The electric street lamp shone into his room and the footfalls of the +last tenant, receding on the stairs, had long since died to silence. + +"I will study Arnold," he said, finally, buttoning his coat, as if the +problem were as good as solved. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE ROYSTERERS. + + +"Get the mail, Indigo." + +The letters made a goodly heap on the salver, but Harry Arnold sifted +them over with an air of dissatisfaction. One cream-colored envelope, +superscribed in a dainty hand, he laid apart. The rest he tore open and +tossed into Indigo's lap, as if they were duns, invitations and other +such formal matters. + +"Drop a line apiece to these bores," he said to his valet, with a yawn. +Like the whole tribe of the unoccupied, he was too busy to answer +letters. + +"Where's Aladdin?" + +"Grazing in the paddock." + +"Did you get the roses for Miss March?" + +"Two dozen Marechal Neils." + +"I want some paper for a note to go with them. Mother's prompt," he +added, opening the letter he had reserved, while Indigo went on his +errand. It was headed "Hillsborough," and ran as follows: + + "Dear Harry: It is a pleasure to be in our old summer home again, + especially after the trying day I spent in that courtroom. The + orchards are no longer in bloom, and the pear tree in the angle + (your favorite), which was just a great pyramid of snowy blossoms + when we arrived last year, is now budding with fruit. These things + remind me how late the season has begun this year. Do not prolong + it too far, Harry, dear. I am sure, after your illness, the mere + sight of the open fields would do you good. Woodlawn is suburban, + but it is not real country. Besides, we are only twenty miles out + and you could ride in town in an hour whenever you liked. + + "Be assured you shall have the money for your club expenses as soon + as I can collect it. But property has its embarrassments, you know; + and we may be rich in bonds and indentures, yet lack ready pennies + at times, strange as it may seem to your inexperience. Do not + worry, dear. In your present delicate state of health it may injure + you more than I care to think. The very next time I come to town + you shall have what you desire. But I make my own terms. You must + be a good boy and come to Hillsborough for it. Forgive my writing + so soon. I have been thinking of you, and it surely cannot + displease you to hear once more how dearly you are remembered, + wherever she goes, by your loving mother, + + "ALICE BREWSTER ARNOLD." + +"Once more! No, nor a thousand times more!" cried Harry. "But I wish +she'd come down sooner with the cash," he added. "What's this? +Postscript?" + +"Your friends, the Marches, have taken their cottage in Lenox. Possibly +this may hasten your coming more than my entreaties." + +"Jealous of Rosalie, already," laughed Harry. "Poor mother! What, +another?" + + "P. S. (Private)--It would be wise, Harry, if you should call upon + your cousin. A visit from you would look well at this time." + +"A call on Rob? Gad, I never thought of that. Give me the stationery, +Indigo." + +For five minutes Harry Arnold was alone, writing his prettiest note of +compliment to accompany the gift of flowers to Miss Rosalie March. He +had just moistened the mucilage when there came a ring at the bell. + +"See if that's the fellows, Indigo. Look through the shutters." + +"It's Kennedy," said Indigo, twisting his neck and eyes so as to get a +slanting view of the callers. + +"Who else?" + +"Idler and Sunburst." + +"Let them up." + +"Well, Harry," cried the first of the three bloods, extending a hand, +"what's the tempo of your song this morning?" + +"Allegro, vivace, vivacissimo, Idler. Convalescing; doctor says I may go +out; mother agreeable; medicine chest thrown to the dogs. Have a pill; +only a few more left." + +"Hello!" cried the fragile youth who had entered last. "Miss Rosalie +March!" He picked up the envelope which Harry had laid down. "Sits the +wind in that quarter still, Horatio?" + +"The actress, Harry?" cried a second of the trio. + +"What actress, you booby? Miss March isn't an actress." + +"Nevertheless, she occasionally acts," retorted Sunburst. His yellow +beard entitled him to this alias. + +"Just the opposite, then, of her brother, Tristram," said the tall, +sallow youth addressed as Idler. "He is a sculptor, but he never sculps. +Did you see his alto-relievo of a Druid's head in the Art club? Capital +study. Why in the deuce doesn't he work?" + +"If he did he might get his goods on the market," said Kennedy. + +"Out on you for a Philistine, a dunderhead!" cried Harry. "Do you +confound genius with salability? Idler could correct you on that point. +You remember his satire on 'The Religious Significance of Umbrellas in +China?' Was anything ever more daringly conceived, more wittily +executed, more--but I spare the shades of Addison and Lamb. And how much +did it fetch him? A paltry $15." + +Idler was the only one of these well-born good-for-naughts who ever +turned his gifts to use. Sketches over the sobriquet by which he was +known to his friends occasionally appeared in the lighter magazines. + +"But my 'New Broom' made a clean sweep, Harry," he protested. + +"Murder," groaned Harry. "He had that in for us. A prepared joke is +detestable. It's like bottled spring water." + +"Hang spring water!" said Idler. "Hang water anyway!" + +"Indigo," cried Harry, jumping at the hint, "fetch us some very weak +whey from the spa. Let's have a real old high jinks of a slambang bust +to celebrate my convalescence. Hello! What's that?" + +The wild wail of a bagpipe smote the air and the four boon companions +rushed to the window. + +"Have him in!" + +"Yoho!" + +"Here, Sawnie!" + +"He's coming." + +Indigo and the piper entered from opposite doors at about the same time, +the former fetching the "whey," which had a suspiciously reddish hue and +was served in narrow bottles, the latter arrayed in all the bravery of +his plaids, with a little boy by his side in similar costume. + +"Hit her up, Sawnie," cried Kennedy. + +"Let him wet his whistle first," said the Sunburst. + +"And here's a handsel to cross his palm," added Harry, passing the piper +something invisible. The minstrel pocketed it with an awkward bow and +drank down the proffered "whey" at one gulp. + +"I'll be reminding you, gentlemen," he said in "braid Scots," "lest ye +labor under a misapprehension of my cognomen, that my name is not +Sawnie, but Duncan McKenzie Logan, and this is my wee bairn, Archibald +Campbell of that ilk. We're half-lowland, as ye doubtless know, the +Logans being a border clan." + +"Why don't you make the youngster blow the bellows?" cried Idler. "The +organ-player never does the pumping." + +"I'm no organ-player, if you please. 'Tis the hieland pipes I play, and +there's no blowing the bellows except with my ain mouth. But the laddie +dances prettily. Show your steps, Archie. Show the gentlemen a fling. +Ainblins they've never seen the like of it before." + +Archie was as highland as his father in rig, from his jaunty feathered +bonnet to the kilt just reaching below his bare, brown knees. His firm +boyish face had a Scotch prettiness in it, nothing effeminate, yet sweet +to look at, and he went through the steps of the highland fling +gracefully, one hand on hip, the other over his head, reversing them now +and then, and occasionally spinning around, while the piper struck up +"Roy's Wife." The conclusion was greeted with a burst of applause. + +"Can't we dance to that tune, boys?" shouted Harry, seizing Kennedy +around the waist. "Choose your partners. Give us a Tarantella." + +"There's nae such tune in the hielands," said the piper, gravely. + +"Well, the skirt dance will do. Hit her up and I'll make you a present +big enough to buy all your aunts and cousins porridge for a fortnight." + +"There's nae skeert dance known to my pipes," said the highlander, +shaking his head. "Dinna ye mean the sword dance?" + +"Try 'Highland Laddie'," suggested Idler, hitting up a lively jig on the +piano. The piper fell in and soon was pacing up and down the room, red +in the face from his exertions, while the four merrymakers capered, +kicked and skipped, with all sorts of offhand juvenilities. Harry, +though the tallest present, was graceful as a girl. + +"Hold up, fellows," cried the Sunburst, at last, puffing audibly. But +the piper continued pacing up and down, forgetting everything in the +furore of his enthusiasm except the moaning and shrieking of his +instrument. + +"Hold up, I say. Shut off your infernal drone. We can't hear ourselves +think." + +"'Tis the wind wailing on Craig-Ellachie I hear," said he of the +Caledonian names. + +"I think it's delirium tremens. Take a nip of the whey. That'll cure +you. Here, Indigo, tap the geyser again for Sawnie." + +Logan was not the man to set up frivolous punctilios against such an +order as Idler's. + +"There's medicine for the inner mon," he said, smacking his lips with +gusto. + +"Medicinal, eh? If you happen to take an overdose it's a medicinal +spree, I suppose." + +"I say, isn't tomorrow the Fourth?" cried Sunburst. "Play something +patriotic, Sawnie, 'Hull's Victory,' or 'Lady Washington's Reel.'" + +"There's nane o' them known to me or my instrument," said the minstrel. +"It's a Scotch pipe and will play nane but the auld tunes of Scotland." + +"Scotland! What's Scotland?" asked Idler. + +"Wha--can it be ye never heard tell o' bonnie Scotland?" gasped the +highlander, who was nearing the condition which Idler had described as +a "medicinal spree." + +"What is it, a man or a place? Did you ever meet the name before, +fellows?" + +All three solemnly shook their heads, whereat the Caledonian's jaw +dropped in amazement. + +"Wull, wull, I knew 'twas a most barbarous country I entered, but I'd +thought the least enlightened peoples of the airth had heard of the +glory and the celebrity of bonnie Scotland." + +"Bonnie Scotland? Is Bonnie his first name?" + +"Why, 'tis the country o' Scotland, I mean." + +"Oh, I know," interposed Harry; "that little, barren, outlying province +somewhere to the north of England." + +"Oh, that!" cried the others, in contemptuous chorus. + +"Where the coast line gets ragged, like an old beggar's coat," said +Idler. + +"And the people live on haggis and finnan haddie," added Kennedy. + +"They are mostly exiles of Erin that have drifted back into barbarism," +cried the Sunburst. + +"Yes, that's the place," said Harry. "I've heard travelers tell of it. I +believe it's put down in the latest gazetteer." + +Poor Logan looked like a stifling man, but before he could launch his +reply the long-drawn tones of a rival troubadour invaded the apartment. +Once more the four roysterers rushed to the window. + +"It's a dago!" + +"Ahoy!" they signaled, waving their hands. + +"Open the door for him, Indigo," cried Harry. + +"Did you ever hear tell o' such savages, Archie?" whispered the piper to +his son; "that had no enlightenment on the name o' bonnie Scotland, +which is famous wherever valor and minstrelsy are honored." + +"They maun be jestin', daddy." + +"Jestin'? Tut, tut! Whaur's the jest?" + +"Presto bellisimo, Paganini," cried the four youths, each rushing to the +door and welcoming the organ-grinder, with a warm shake-hands. The +Italian smiled profusely and doffed his cap, his monkey climbing to the +organ top and imitating him in every gesture. + +"Tune up your bagpipes, Sawnie," cried Harry. "We are going to have a +tournament. Take a smell, Paganini?" + +"Noa," answered the Italian, shaking his head, "noa drink--a." + +"Then you're a bigger fool than you look," cried Idler, stumbling +tipsily. "(Hic) I'm losing control of my curves." + +"What tunes have you got in that box?" asked Harry of the organ-grinder, +while Logan eyed him grimly with a look of scorn. + +"What-a sing-a? 'Anni Runi.'" + +"That will do. Grind away. Hold on. Get a full breath, Sawnie. Now for a +medley." + +The organ-grinder began turning his crank, but the Scotchman sulked in +the corner. + +"Stop there, Paganini. False start. Try again." + +"I'll accompany nae uncivilized barrel-box, that's only fit to dandle +idiot bairns wi'." + +"What are you talking about?" cried Idler. "Uncivilized! You wildman of +the hills! A red outlaw in his war paint couldn't look and act more +outlandish than you do." + +"Smooth him down, Harry," cried Sunburst. "Here, Sawnie, how much will +you take for your pipes?" + +"Enough to buy me them back again," answered the Scotchman, cannily, +"and a bonus for the time o' their privation." + +"You'll do," said Idler. + +"Have another nip of the whey and let's hear you drown the dago," +whispered Harry, confidentially, patting Logan on the back. + +"Drown him? 'Twad na tak' a big puddle to do that." + +"Of course not. But he's vain enough to think just the opposite. A good +swig! Start her up now." + +Idler drummed on the piano a few bars of "Scots Wha Ha'e," which set the +piper marching and stamping again. At a nod from Harry the bowing +Italian resumed his tune, and when the four carousers took hands in a +circle and began chanting "Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot," the air +was infernal with discord. + +"Faster! Faster!" cried Harry. The Scotchman pranced in his industrious +ecstasy, while the Italian put both hands to the organ-crank and turned +for all that was in him. + +"Oh, a smile for my Rosalie!" shouted Kennedy, maliciously, changing the +air. + +"None of that!" cried Harry, barely making his voice heard above the +din. The little boy sitting in one corner had clapped both palms over +his ears, and the monkey, watching his gesture, gravely climbed up and +perched beside him, doing likewise. + +"A kiss for my Rosalie," roared Kennedy, tantalizing his host. +Half-angry, Harry caught up a wine bottle from the tray and pointed it +at his tormentor. + +"Pop!" the cork flew out and Kennedy put his hand to his eye with an +exclamation of pain. + +"Hello! What have I done?" cried Harry. + +"Didn't know it was loaded," jeered Idler. But the concert had stopped, +and when Kennedy uncovered his eye there was a blue swelling already +under the lid. + +"A surgeon!" cried Sunburst. "Amputate his head. It is the only hope of +saving the eye." + +"What's good for a black eye?" asked Harry, less unfeelingly than the +others. + +"Black the other for symmetry," cried Sunburst. + +"Get some beefsteak, Indigo," said Harry. + +"Kill the Jersey cow, Indigo, and cut off a sirloin," mocked Idler, who +was half-seas over now. Meanwhile the Scotchman and the Italian, +counting their emoluments, had folded their instruments and silently +stolen away; while Sunburst, apparently as porous as a sponge, calmly +and steadily put the bottle Harry had popped to his lips and drained it +to the dregs. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +APPEARANCES AND DISAPPEARANCES. + + +"Now for Sir Galahad in jail!" said Harry, touching the bay with the +point of his whip. + +"He was an awfully virtuous cad!" laughed Kennedy. Sunburst had offered +to convey Idler safely home, while Kennedy, the black-eyed, accompanied +Harry, himself none the better for his morning bottle-bout, to the +clubhouse in town. On the way they would make the visit to Robert. + +There was evidently a strong dash of the Arnold blood in Harry. He +showed more resemblance to his cousin than to the proud, thin-lipped +woman who had sat through Floyd's preliminary trial. A stranger might +even confuse them at the first glance, though Harry was five years the +older of the two. It could not be gainsaid that he bore his age well. +His movements were leopard-like in their swiftness and ease and his eyes +shone with mesmeric power. The little darkness under their lids might be +a peculiarity of complexion, but occasionally, in moments of repose, a +shadow, no more, seemed to cross the cheek and make it look worn. His +companions had noticed that the cue-point wavered a trifle in his hands +of late and that his masse shots sometimes failed to draw the balls. But +he was still facile princeps among gentlemen boxers of the city; and his +long, brown arms were a delight to watch on the river, crossing and +recrossing in the graceful rhythm of the practiced oarsman. + +Arnold's true nature was hard to judge, for circumstances had conspired +to spoil him from the cradle. A comely child, he had been allowed to +carry the knickerbocker period of tossing curls and gratified whims far +into his teens, and the discovery that her darling was a man, and no +longer a painted picture to be gazed at and displayed, had come upon his +mother suddenly, like an unforeseen catastrophe. It had cost her many a +pang to realize that she, who aspired to be sole mistress of his heart, +shared now only a divided affection with a score of alien interests. +Still she continued to indulge and anticipate his desires. They were +rich and social station was her birthright. But it was with a jealous +gnawing in her heart that she would sign the check for his new pleasure +yacht or watch him pat the neck of his steeplechaser Aladdin. + +The dislike she bore to Robert Floyd was a natural consequence of his +uncle's partiality. The families were outwardly upon good terms. If +early influence counts, there could not well be much similarity of taste +between the youth whose steps had been guided by the virile head of +Benjamin Arnold and the idol of that indulgent, worldly mother who never +forgot that she belonged to the Brewsters of Lynn. + +"Hold her ten minutes," said Harry, giving the reins to Kennedy at the +outer gate of the jail. His name was a sufficient passport to the +officer who guarded the outer turnstile, and he was directed across a +bricked yard to the jail building proper. Here a more detailed +explanation was exacted. Harry answered the questions suavely but not +without some suppressed impatience. A few moments of delay, which he +beguiled with an incessant finger-tattoo, and he was conducted to +murderers' row. + +"This isn't much like home, Rob," was his greeting, fortified by a hand +extended through the cell bars. Floyd pressed it somewhat coldly. + +"I'm grateful for the visit, Harry," he said. + +"I was deucedly down with malaria when uncle died, you know." + +"I was sorry to hear that from your mother." + +"Yes, might have come around to the trial, I suppose; but mother +wouldn't have it. You understand how she feels. Besides, what good could +I do?" + +"You are better now?" + +"Awoke this morning as fresh as a new-born babe. Going down to play +with the foils awhile. Can't stop long." + +Was it the glow of convalescence or of wine that shone in Harry's face? +He made one or two imaginary passes with his cane, regardless of the +feelings of the prisoner, to whom such a picture of prospective +enjoyment could hardly be soothing. + +"But I say, Rob," he cried, apparently remembering himself, "this is +hard on you. What do you think of it all?" + +Floyd eyed his cousin, as if the appropriate answer were not easy to +find. + +"It is hard," he replied. + +"What would Uncle Ben say if he were alive?" + +"Uncle Benjamin would be the first to proclaim my innocence," said +Robert, his voice vibrant with emotion. + +"To tell the truth, Rob, I don't know whether to be sorry his old +scrawl's canceled or not. I had my doubts how I fared at Uncle Ben's +hands. Mother said my half was hunky, but you know uncle hadn't that +respect for my precious person she has." Harry's laugh showed that he +was well aware of his mother's weakness in that regard. "How was it? Do +you know? Did the old gentleman forget me?" + +"I believe we were treated nearly alike," answered Robert. + +"Gad, then I owe you $5,000,000----" + +"Did you come here to insult me?" + +At this outburst of indignation the sheriff's deputy drew near. + +"That was nothing, Rob," said Harry, sobering up. "Only my cursed +thoughtlessness. I'm sorry, on my word, you've got into the fix." + +"Carry your condolences somewhere else." + +"Oh, well----" + +"I was always literal and I mean now what I say. Your apology only makes +the matter worse." + +There is nothing more subversive of dignity than an unpremeditated +sneeze. Not that Saul Aronson had much dignity to spare. On the +contrary, he was an extremely modest young man, with apparently one +great passion in his life, the service of Shagarach. On this occasion +his resounding ker-choo proclaimed from afar the arrival of that +personage and threw a ridiculous damper on the rising temper of the +cousins. Seeing the two strangers approach, Harry fumbled out a farewell +and withdrew with an air of languid bravado. Shagarach watched him as he +passed. + +"Follow that young man for a few hours," he said to Aronson. "I should +like to know his afternoon programme." + +Aronson hung on his master's lips and trotted off to obey his command. + +"I am Shagarach, come to defend you," he said to the prisoner, still +flushed with the remembrance of the quarrel. + +"Who sent you to defend me?" was the curt reply. + +"Your friend, Miss Barlow." + +"Emily?" + +Robert's voice grew softer. + +"I have some questions to ask you." + +"What have I done to be questioned as if I were a cut-throat? What have +I done to be jailed here like some wild beast, before whom life would +not be safe if he were let at large?" + +"I know you are innocent, Floyd." + +Only the falsely accused can tell how the first assurance of trust from +another revives hope and faith in their kind. Robert Floyd was no man to +lean on strangers, yet Shagarach's words were as soothing to him as a +gentle hand laid on a feverish forehead. + +"Your cousin Harry came here to verify his knowledge of the will, which +disinherited him, did he not?" + +"Harry was disinherited, that is true." + +"How came you to give up the profession of botanist, in which your uncle +trained you?" + +"Men interest me more than vegetables." + +"But you refused your uncle's wealth, that would have given you power +among men." + +"It was not mine. I had not earned it. I feared the temptation." + +"You are a journalist, I believe?" + +"Six months ago I happened to report a conference of charities for the +Beacon. Today I am eking out my income by occasional work for that +paper." + +Shagarach thought of his own first brief. A youth, imperfectly +acquainted with English, was charged with the larceny of an overcoat +from his fellow-lodger. Something about him enlisted the sympathy of a +kind-hearted lady who drew Shagarach into the case because of his +knowledge of the Hebrew jargon which the prisoner spoke. The youth was +acquitted and was now a student of law, being no other than Shagarach's +assistant and idolater, Aronson. That was years ago. Today hundreds +flocked to hear his pleading of a cause, judges leaned over alertly, as +if learning their duty from him, and the very hangers-on of the +courtroom acquired a larger view of the moral law when Shagarach +expounded it. + +"My own beginnings were as humble," he said. + +"You are a criminal lawyer by choice, people say." + +"The moral alternative of innocence or guilt, of liberty or +imprisonment--sometimes, as now, of life or death--exalts a cause in my +eyes far above any elevation to which mere financial litigation can +attain." + +Robert looked his visitor over thoughtfully. The criminal lawyer was not +reputed the highest grade of the guild. But there was a sneer, too, in +many quarters for the journalist. He, too, must mingle in the reek of +cities, share Lazarus' crust and drink from the same cup with the +children of the slums. + +"And you have risen to the defense of murderers," he said. + +"Men accused of murder," answered Shagarach. + +"You are reputed to be uniformly successful." + +"That is no miracle. My clients are uniformly innocent. My first step is +to satisfy myself of that." + +"When were you first satisfied of my innocence?" + +"When I saw you here." + +"I am to be removed to the state prison while the jail is repaired," +said Robert, who had indulged dreams of some powerful intervention which +should procure his release. "How long before a final hearing will be +given me?" + +"Two months at most. The evidence against your cousin is growing rapidly +under my hands." + +"It was 'evidence' that brought me here. Is your 'evidence' against +Harry no more valuable?" + +"I am not prosecuting Harry Arnold, but every item that points to his +guilt guides the finger of suspicion away from you." + +Shagarach was satisfied with his interview. He had elicited proof to his +own mind of Robert's innocence and legal evidence of Harry's +disinheritance under the will. To fasten knowledge of the fact upon the +cousin would now be an easier task. + +"Miss Barlow will be permitted to see you," was his parting assurance to +the prisoner before he hurriedly returned to his office, to find an +unexpected client awaiting him. + +John Davidson, the marshal, had a friendly habit, the legacy of a +country bringing-up, which his acquaintances found both useful and +agreeable. Our tired Emily, trudging to Shagarach's with the heavy +message of a day's failure, must have agreed with them heartily. At +least, she did not decline his invitation when the kindly old gentleman +drove up behind her and urged her to share his seat in the carriage. + +"I am bringing him some evidence now," said Emily in answer to the +marshal's first question, after he had settled her according to his +liberal ideas of comfort and clucked his horse to a gentle trot. + +"Evidence--no need of evidence, miss. If Shagarach has your case, that +will be prima-facie evidence in itself of your sweetheart's innocence." + +"He is a wonderful man. But do people like him?" + +"Like him? Well, 'like' is a medium word, you see, used for medium +people. He's a good deal of a sphinx to us all, my dear. But aren't you +a brave girl to be tramping the streets for your sweetheart? Don't mind +being called sweethearts, I hope? That was the old-country word when I +courted Elizabeth. But I believe young folks now call it fiancee, +inamorata--French words and Italian, as though they were ashamed to +speak it out in good old English." + +"Oh, we prefer sweethearts a hundred times. But I see Mr. Shagarach's +sign." + +The marshal handed her out with old-fashioned gallantry, threw his +horse's head-weight on the curbstone and accompanied her upstairs. +Neither Aronson, nor Jacob, the office boy, answered his knock, but a +throaty falsetto, somewhat the worse for wear, was intoning an +evangelical hymn within. Strange quavers ad libitum and a constant +beating of the foot, occasionally heightened to a break-down stamp, +intermingled with the air. It was only by giving a rap with his whole +clenched hand that the marshal was able to arouse the attention of this +musical inmate. + +"Evenin', Mr. Davidson. Keepin' house, you see." + +"Good evening, Jupiter." Then to Emily: "This is Pineapple Jupiter." + +"Cullud gospel-preacher, missus. Belong to the mission upstairs. Buy a +mission paper, missus?" + +His complexion was as black as a coal shovel, but everything artificial +about him made the antithesis of the swan to the raven. His suit was of +bleached linen, his shirt bosom, choker and spotless cravat, all the +color of snow. Even his wool was wintry and the rolling eyes and +brilliant teeth gave his ensemble the effect of a pen-and-ink sketch, or +one of those black-and-white grotesques that recently captured a passing +vogue. + +"When will Shagarach return?" asked Davidson, but a light step on the +stairs, which Emily knew to be his, rendered an answer needless. The +lawyer bowed with his usual stateliness and ushered them in. + +"Remain outside till Jacob comes, Jupiter," he said. The negro salaamed +deferentially. + +"As a result of today's inquiries," Shagarach folded his arms, "two +desirable witnesses are missing. The peddler, as I surmised, is not a +peddler; and the incendiary, who could assist us materially in our +researches, still remains in the Arnold mansion." + +Emily's face was puzzled at this enigmatic opening. + +"That is to say, he was not seen by any one coming out. I believe, +however, that he succeeded in getting away unobserved, as I think I had +the pleasure of meeting him this afternoon." + +"The incendiary?" cried Emily, and the marshal echoed her. + +"At the county jail." + +Emily's heart fluttered. Had Shagarach become a convert to the belief in +Robert's guilt? And if so? + +"You know Harry Arnold?" he asked. + +"I have never met him." She colored a little, for she was not descended +from the Brewsters of Lynn. "But it seems to me your argument against +him is inferential, Mr. Shagarach." Twenty times she had gone over it on +her pillow the night before. + +"Were the a priori case against Mr. Floyd as strong, you would have more +reason than you have to be apprehensive, Miss Barlow," said Shagarach, +in that ringing tone of his, from which all the sap of emotion seemed +purposely wrung out, leaving only a residuum of dry logic. + +Immediately he began writing a letter, as if to terminate the interview, +and John Davidson reached for his hat, casting a glance down at his +carriage in the street. Then with an effort Emily unburdened herself of +the portentous message which she had come to deliver. + +"I have done my best," she said. "But Bertha Lund is not to be found." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +A KISS IN THE DARK. + + +Bertha Lund's aunt, Mrs. Christenson, kept a boarding house for Swedes, +on a street near the water front. By virtue of an intelligence-office +license she was also empowered to obtain places in domestic service for +newly imported Frederikas and Katherinkas. But the Swedish housemaid is +one of those rare commodities in which the demand exceeds the supply. So +there had been no crowded gallery of sodden faces around the +waiting-room when Emily called Thursday morning before going to work, +but only two or three laughing maidens who chatted with the boarders. +All had the bloom of a winter apple in their cheeks and their blue eyes +sparkled with reflections of the sea. Mrs. Christenson was making terms +with a lady in an inner room. + +"You wish for a servant?" she said, coming forward pleasantly. + +"My business is with Miss Bertha Lund, your niece. I believe she is +lodging here." + +"My niece is gone," answered the landlady, unceremoniously turning her +back and shutting the door with that emphasis which is feminine for +profanity. Then her voice was heard, pitched a little higher, as she +interpreted the silvery Swedish of the girl within, for the benefit of +her future mistress. + +"Something must be wrong," thought Emily. But there was nothing for her +to do but retreat, somewhat hurt and a great deal troubled. She had +reached the head of the stairs when one of the domestics in the +waiting-room came forward sympathetically and in her pretty, broken +English explained Mrs. Christenson's conduct. Bertha, it seems, had not +returned home since the night of the trial. Search had been made for +her, but without result. From what the girl said, though this was put +guardedly and in an almost inaudible whisper, Emily inferred that +Bertha, who was naturally quick-tempered, had chafed under her aunt's +imperious discipline and had probably gone to board with some friend, +registering herself for employment meanwhile in one of the other +intelligence offices. Once before she had manifested the same impatience +of restraint and had disappeared into the country for an entire summer. + +It was still possible, even probable, that she could be found if search +were instituted at once. Bertha had only a day's start of her pursuer, +and it was not likely that she had secured a situation to her taste so +soon. Emily formed the heroic resolve to scour the intelligence offices +herself. Finding the list in the directory incomplete, she boldly +visited police headquarters, from which licenses are issued, and copied +the name and address of every keeper in the city. + +With a letter from one of the police commissioners and a minute +description of Bertha at her tongue's end, Emily had passed from office +to office, braving discourtesy and even insult. As this was the busy +season her truancy from the studio would have to be made up by lamplight +work, which meant ache to her weary eyes, and the unwonted climbing of +stairs and trudging about for hours soon exhausted her small stock of +strength. But Emily was less concerned over her personal sacrifice than +over the failure of her inquiries. By 4 o'clock her task was still +uncompleted. The rounds of the offices had not been half-made. Still no +Bertha could be found, no girl answering her description or dressed as +Bertha had been dressed at the trial having applied for work on the +previous day. With a cloud of despondency forming over her heart, only +lightened by a dim hope of consolation from Shagarach, she had turned +her steps in the direction of his office when John Davidson overtook +her. + +"Not to be found!" echoed the marshal. + +"When was she seen last?" inquired Shagarach, calmly. + +"The evening of the trial," answered Emily. "She hasn't returned to her +aunt's, where she was lodging, since then." + +"Why, I saw the girl talking with McCausland," said Davidson. + +"When?" asked the lawyer. + +"Tuesday evening. Everybody else had gone and Miss Barlow and I were +alone in the ante-chamber. McCausland put his head in, as if he wanted +the room, and I noticed two women behind him. One was the housemaid and +the other was----" + +"Mrs. Arnold?" + +"True enough. 'Twa'nt no need to tell you, was it?" + +The marshal's eyes grew big with admiration. + +"Merely a guess. Bertha Lund is a government witness, and McCausland has +a habit of keeping his witnesses under cover, especially when they are +poor and he is fighting wealth or influence. However, we have a right to +know all Bertha knows. Could you find out if she is living with the +Arnolds?" he said, turning to Emily. + +"They are out of town, but I'll make inquiries," answered the resolute +girl. + +"This may be of use." Shagarach handed her the note he had rapidly +written. It was unsealed and addressed to the warden of the state +prison. When the young girl was settled again to John Davidson's +satisfaction in the seat of his buggy, she opened the envelope and read +its contents aloud: + + "My Dear Sir: The bearer, Miss Emily Barlow, is assigned to + important duties for the defense in the cause of Commonwealth vs. + Floyd. I shall esteem it a favor if you will grant her admission to + the defendant as my personal representative at all times when she + may apply to you. Respectfully yours, + + "MEYER SHAGARACH, + "Counsel for the Accused." + +"Well, that was clever, wasn't it?" said old John Davidson, and for the +rest of the ride he entertained her with anecdotes of Shagarach's most +memorable victories, as well as other fascinating relations. For the +marshal, among his many virtues, was a famous traveler, being one of the +handful who can boast of having set foot in every state of our union. He +may not have been a marvel of detective cunning, as McCausland had +intimated, but Emily had forgotten all about her fatigue and was in an +agreeably hopeful frame of mind when he set her down before her house +door in the plain side street. + +That night Robert Floyd slept in a state prison cell. The atmosphere of +the place oppressed him. Everything, down to the very keys and padlocks, +was more massive than at the county jail. Led along a narrow corridor by +tenanted cells, whose inmates came to the bars and greeted him, or +crouched in the inmost recesses, he was reminded of a menagerie of +dangerous beasts. At the door of his own cell the revulsion had seized +him like an epileptic fit and he had wrenched himself loose from the +jailer. In an instant four vise-like hands were tightened on him and he +was flung bodily into the apartment. The iron door swung to with a clang +and he heard the jailer's footsteps receding. + +"Coo-ee! Ducky, don't ee like ee c'adle?" + +"He's a lifer, sure!" + +"Don't cry, Johnnie. You'll never get out any more." + +"I move a resolution of sympathy for our newly elected associate. All in +favor, curse Longlegs!" + +There is a passage in Bach's "Passion" music where the infuriated Jews, +being offered the choice of pardon for Barabbas or the Savior, shriek +out the name of the robber. Robert remembered thinking that up to then +he had never heard anything more devilish than the roar of rage with +which the multitude express their preference for "Barabbas!" But the +chorus of curses from the convict pack that greeted the sobriquet of +"Longlegs" was like an uproar from still lower deeps, where spirits more +hideous than the deicides may be confined. + +This is not the normal temper of prisons, by any means. But the +Georgetown prison had been for months in a state of incipient mutiny and +the brewing storm was now threatening to break. Among the grounds of +complaint alleged against the present warden was his retention of the +obnoxious turnkey, "Longlegs," who was loathed as a "squealer," because +he could not be bought. It was further alleged that the men's tobacco +rations had been unjustly diminished one-half, such a thing as gratitude +for the allowance of this luxury at all not entering their minds. The +teams that carted goods from the workshops had recently been put in +charge of prison employes, and a useful means of communication with +outer friends thus cruelly cut off. In the eyes of the "solitaries" and +"hard-labor" men their bill of rights had been monstrously trampled +upon, and there was ample cause for the deposing of Warden Tapp and the +establishment of anarchy in the institution. Only the "lifers" were for +peace. + +"Half a plug is better than no smoke, boys," said John Bryant, who had +killed his wife, humorously. But he had served fourteen years already +and lived in hopes of a pardon some Thanksgiving day for his good +behavior. + +After exhibiting so clearly their position "against the government," +Robert's fellow-lodgers began to put inquiries to himself. + +"Say, freshy, what's your name?" + +Robert was too exasperated, too disgusted, to answer. + +"He's tongue-tied." + +"Wants his supper." + +"Look out for a spy, fellers. That ain't true blue." + +"Mum's the word." + +It was evident that Floyd's refusal to make free had branded him at once +with the stamp of unpopularity. But the young man had other thoughts to +occupy his mind. He was pondering upon his own terrible plight and upon +Shagarach's visit. Fully an hour must have passed in these reflections, +for it was very dark, when they were disturbed by a low remark from his +left-hand neighbor. + +"Say, chummy, I hain't one of these 'ere bloomin' mutineers." + +It was a wheezy voice and Floyd remembered to have heard at intervals +from that quarter one of those racking coughs which distress the +listener almost as much as the sufferer. The man seemed to be in the +rear of his cell and to have his mouth to the wall. Robert said nothing, +but his interest was languidly aroused. + +"Say, get into the hospital, Dobbs," remarked a voice that was beginning +to be familiar to Robert. + +"I 'ave been in the 'ospital, you unfeelin', bloomin' coves," replied +the asthmatic prisoner. + +"Ho, ee's Henglish, ee his," said some one, whereupon there was a faint +storm of laughter. Robert's sympathy was enlisted on the side of the man +called Dobbs. His uncle had been an Englishman and the national feeling +was strong in the nephew. Speaking as low as possible, so that the +others might not hear, he said to Dobbs: + +"You are an Englishman? This is bad company you've got into." + +"Lord, me boy, Hi know that--a scurvy job lot o' bloomin' ordinary coves +as I'd cut dead if Hi was a gentleman of fortune. But you see Hi +hain't. Being only Bill Dobbs, Hi can't afford to preach hinnocence, and +choose me hown 'ouse-mates, like a juke." + +The cough choked his utterance for awhile and evoked further +remonstrance from the yawning crew around him. + +"What is your sentence?" asked Robert. + +"Height years for burglary--if they can 'old me," and Bill Dobbs +chuckled knowingly, like one who had tested the fragility of prison +walls before. "W'ich, bein' a slippery fish, is a question Hi 'ave been +considerin' seriously." + +"Why did you leave England?" asked Robert. + +"The climate is gettin' so warm," answered the cockney. "W'y, the gulf +stream is comin' so near us there it would almost boil a turkey. +Hawfully bloomin' 'ot, you know, chummy. I'm a-winkin' at you." + +"Especially about Scotland Yard, I suppose. You're a professional +burglar?" + +"Not always, young man. Hi 'ad a Henglish mother once, w'ich I shall +never forget 'ow she 'eard my prayers. And hevery day Hi dressed myself +up in my blue blouse and breeches, and my dinner pail (w'ich wasn't +hempty) under my harm, and hevery bloomin' bobby I met says Hi to him, +says Hi: 'Hi'm Martin Thimblethorpe, from the west country, and can you +tell me w'ere's Regent row?' Blarst me if they wouldn't point their +fingers this way and that way and follow my departing footsteps with a +look of pride, as much as to say: 'There goes a honest Hinglish +workingman; see 'is hindependent hair." + +"But you never worked very hard, I fancy, with your blouse and your +dinner-pail?" + +"'Ard? Hi fancy Hi did." + +"What did you do?" + +"Jeweler's 'elp." + +"That is, you sold your plunder to a fence?" + +"Fence? Wot fence? Hi 'ad an accommodatin' friend in the business, who +asked no impertinent questions and paid me 'alf price for my +contributions--w'ich was bloomin' low figures, considering Hi never +accepted hanything cheap. If there's one class Hi 'ate, positively 'ate, +young man, it's them bloomin' shoddy gaffers wot sport a genteel +reputation on plated spoons and paste." + +"You always discriminated against such people?" + +"Halways! Ho, it used to do my 'eart good," continued Dobbs, chuckling +at the reminiscence, "w'en they wrote up one of my nocturnal visits (Hi +halways make my collections in the quiet hours of the hevenin') as 'ow +the leavin' of the plated ware and the abandonin' of a temptin' case of +hartificial diamonds shows the 'and of the solitary cracksman. There's +appreciation, Hi used to say! There's fame! You 'it it 'appily, young +man. Hi always discriminated." + +"Martin Thimblethorpe, then, was the solitary cracksman, and your real +name is Dobbs?" + +"Bill Dobbs. Wot's your line, chummy? Fashionable embezzlement? Hi +admire that line. It's genteel and the perquisites is liberal +accordingly." + +Floyd was getting interested in spite of himself. These first-hand +experiences of a professional burglar were life, and in spite of the +fellow's utter villainy and vulgarity (he could almost see his cunning +leer through the walls) they had a spice of romance that held him. But +their colloquy was interrupted just here by a sound of footsteps and the +approach of a light, which set the whole ward raving again. + +"Shut up your screeching," came a voice of command, at which the +mutinous crew subsided, and Robert heard apologetic remarks. + +"It's Gradger." + +"It isn't Longlegs." + +"We thought it was Longlegs." + +Gradger, for some reason, was a favorite with the men. He went straight +to Floyd's cell and pointed him out to Emily Barlow. + +"Emily!" + +"Robert!" + +That was all they could say for awhile. + +"My darling," cried Robert, who was the first to recover command of +himself. He was indignant to think that she, too, should be forced into +these surroundings. "Why have you come here?" + +"Only to be with you for a few moments, Robert. I thought of you all +friendless and lonesome." + +"God bless you, dear. But you must not remain. Go away quickly and do +not come here again." + +It was the old, natural instinct to screen the purer half of our race +from degrading contact with things we ourselves must meet. + +"But why should I not visit you, Robert?" + +"Because this is hell and you are an angel." + +He drew her to him and kissed her through the bars. Instantly the sound +was re-echoed a hundred times, distorted and vulgarized, throughout the +ward. In the silence which followed Emily's first words, the sweethearts +had forgotten their audience of thieves and cutthroats, to whom every +syllable was audible. Hierarchs of sin, virtuosos in infamy, all the +demon in their souls seemed roused by this innocent pledge of mutual +faith between youth and maiden, and even the stern threats of Gradger +could not silence their outbreak of hideous derision. + +Emily started back as red as fire. + +"Go, darling," cried Robert, between his set teeth, while shouts of "Ta, +ta, Robert," "Kiss me, Emily," intermingled with the foul ribaldry +generated in minds shut away from all purifying touch of womanhood, +taunted the fleeing girl and roused her imprisoned lover's passion to +frenzy. He could have strangled three of them single-handed. + +"Better call daytimes, miss, when the men are working in the shops," +said Gradger. He had not taken Emily for a girl who herself had to work +daytimes in a shop. + +Meanwhile the storm raged louder and louder, and several turnkeys were +called to quell the disturbance and carry the ringleaders away to the +"block." But the more it volleyed around him the cooler grew young +Floyd. His resentment gradually hardened to a kind of pitying scorn, and +when the last oath died away it was with sweeter thoughts that he had +indulged for three bitter nights that he laid his head on the pallet and +drowsed into oblivion. His pillow lay close to the point of the wall +where Dobbs liked to do his talking, and while the midnight bell was +ringing he thought he heard the cracksman whisper: + +"The young lady stretched it, chummy. You 'ave one friend 'ere. Let 'em +screech their bloomin' lungs off." + +But this may have been a dream. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +SIMPLE SIMON. + + +"The appointment you heard them make. I missed the rendezvous." + +"Harry Arnold said Wednesday was his locky day----" + +"Lucky day," corrected Shagarach. + +"His lucky day," said Aronson, "and if the old lady put up he would +break the bank." + +"That I understand. A gambling tryst. The old lady is his mother. Put up +means to pay his money. But the place--what was the name of the place?" + +"When they left each other Arnold said: 'Wednesday at the Tough-Coat,' +and Kennedy said: 'All right, Harry.'" + +"Repeat that word." + +"Tough-Coat." + +"Repeat it again." + +"Tough-Coat." + +Still Shagarach looked nonplused. The syllables conveyed no meaning +whatever. Yet Aronson felt sure of the substantial accuracy of his +version. + +"Very well." The lawyer dismissed the subject, sent Aronson off on +irrelevant business and gave a few hours of attention to his other +clients. The law's delay had not infected Shagarach. Whatever the matter +he undertook, he was punctual as the clock in its performances, though +not, in the ordinary sense of the word, a methodical man. + +Early in the afternoon an unlooked-for visitor took his place among +those waiting in the outer room. Jacob hastened to give him the chair of +precedence, and announced his name to Shagarach, then in closet +conference with an honest-appearing bookkeeper, whose acquittal on a +charge of forgery he had just procured. + +"I will see Mr. Rabofsky next," said the lawyer to Jacob. + +The man so called was a short, bulky Hebrew, of 60-odd winters (one +would prefer reckoning his years by the more rigorous season). His nose +was like an owl's beak and his beard spread itself luxuriantly over his +face, plainly undefiled of the scissors. The hair was indeterminately +reddish and gray and his eyes were the color of steel. Shagarach bowed +him into his private room, the caller strutting like one accustomed to +homage. + +Although the door was closed behind him as usual, Rabofsky glanced +suspiciously around and spoke in the Hebrew jargon--that grafting of +foreign idioms on a German patois which his tribe has carried all over +eastern Europe, and latterly, via Hamburg, into the cities of America. + +"It is a long time since we have met, kinsman Shagarach," he said. + +"A long time since I have had that honor," replied the lawyer, bowing +with the Hebrew's respect for age. + +"Not since your respected father's funeral, I believe. He was one of my +friends, whose memory always remains to uplift me--a glory to our race +and religion." + +"My respected father's friends are my friends to the end of my days." + +Shagarach's father had been a rabbin or expounder of the sacred books. +Great was the scandal when Rabbi Moses' son abandoned daily attendance +at the synagogue and gave himself over to the ways, though not to the +society, of the gentiles. His mother, with whom he lived, still kept up +the observances of the law, baking the unleavened bread at the paschal +season and purchasing the flesh only of the lawfully butchered ox. Her +son neither praised nor blamed, but she knew he was no longer of +Israel's sects; not even of the mystical Essenes, among whom his father +might be counted, and whose study is the unpronounceable name of God. +Others of his people who lacked a mother's indulgence knew this, and it +was rarely that one of the orthodox children of Israel brought his +worldly troubles to Shagarach. + +"Your health is strong under Jehovah, I trust," continued Simon +Rabofsky. + +"Have you come to inquire about my health?" asked Shagarach. The old +man's prelude, beginning so fitfully and far away, threatened to prolong +itself interminably. + +"Nay, a small affair of consultation which it shall be richly worth your +while to advise upon," answered the other, craftily. + +"State the facts with brevity and clearness." + +"Speedily, kinsman Shagarach, speedily." Again he looked cautiously +around. "You are aware that out of the savings of my days of hard labor +I occasionally permit the use of small sums to my friends." + +"You are a money-lender? That I know. One of my clients desires a loan +of you. Which is it?" + +"Not one of your clients, kinsman Shagarach." + +"Who?" + +"Mrs. Arnold." + +Not a muscle of Shagarach's well-schooled countenance quivered, though +the old Jew's eyes almost pierced him as he uttered the name. Opposite +as the two men were in every trait, a substratum of affinity came out in +this deadlock of their glances. On both sides the same set lip, the same +immobile forehead, trained by centuries of traffic to conceal the +fermentation of the powerful brain within. + +"I am not acquainted with the lady," said Shagarach. + +"But you are acquainted with her estate under the will of her +brother-in-law." + +Thoroughly aroused now to his subject, Rabofsky had abandoned his +roundabout manner and pushed his words rapidly forth in an indistinct +growl. + +"Slightly so. State the facts." + +"I will. Yesterday there came to my office a lady, all veiled, and asked +me for $10,000. 'That is a large sum,' said I. 'You have it,' said she, +'and I want it. I will pay for it.' 'Yes, indeed, you shall pay for it,' +I said to myself, but aloud I only asked her: 'What security could you +give me if I should go about among my friends and trouble them and +trouble myself for your service?' 'The security of my name,' she +answered, proudly, like a queen commanding her scullion. 'I am Mrs. +Arnold, widow of the banker, Henry Arnold, and a daughter of Ezra +Brewster of Lynn.' 'Oh, madam,' said I, 'I am Simon Rabofsky, husband of +Rebecca Rabofsky, and a son of the high priest Levi, who is twice +mentioned in the talmud; but I could not borrow $10,000 without pledging +something more substantial than my great ancestor's name.' Then she +sneered a little under her veil, the proud unbeliever, and took out her +rubies and diamonds and watch--a glittering heap. 'Keep these until I +return you the money,' she said. 'This is not enough,' said I, examining +the stones. 'Have you nothing more?' 'My son's interest in the estate of +the late Prof. Arnold will cover your paltry loan 500 times over.' 'I +will reflect upon the subject,' said I. 'Call again in two days.' So I +came to consult kinsman Shagarach." + +"Well?" + +"Has her son any interest in Prof. Arnold's estate?" + +The question had come point-blank at last and Shagarach found himself +less prepared to answer it than he could have wished. + +The Arnolds were financially embarrassed, possibly ruined, by Harry's +infatuation for the gaming-table. This was to be inferred from the +conversation with Kennedy over-heard by Aronson. Their real estate must +be mortgaged to the limit, perhaps beyond its shrunken value, or Mrs. +Arnold would not be begging a loan at a money-lender's shop. Family +jewels were invariably the last resort of declining fortunes unwilling +to abandon cherished appearances. Should he advise the loan and let +Harry cast it away, as he seemed likely to do, in his ambition to "break +the bank?" Such a step might place the young man in his power. + +For the standing of the will was still uncertain. Evidence might be in +existence sufficient to uphold the destroyed document. In that event +Mrs. Arnold's promissory note to Rabofsky would be worth no more than +the value of the securities he held. Robert's statement was positive +that Harry was disinherited. This opened up a new view to Shagarach. + +It would be fatal to the interests of Floyd if the will should be +ignored and half the estate allowed him as heir-at-law. Such a parade of +the profits of the incendiary's crime could not fail to rearouse a burst +of public indignation which would work its way into the jury-box. +Shagarach determined then and there to strive for the upholding of the +will, though it should mean the ruin of the Arnold fortune and the loss +to Robert Floyd of $5,000,000. + +"I do not know," he answered. Something was due to Rabofsky. + +"You have waited a long time. You have been thinking. What do you +think?" + +"It is a difficult part of a difficult problem. My advice----" + +"You will not charge your respected father's friend unreasonably?" put +in the Jew. + +Shagarach knew that Rabofsky was a pharisee of the strictest sect and +had not been his father's friend. He knew also that reasonableness of +charge was not one of his own eccentricities, and probably would not be +exemplified in the loan to Mrs. Arnold. But he replied: + +"Certainly not. I shall consider that when the work is done." + +"Now, kinsman Shagarach." + +"Not now. I cannot foresee the amount of labor, the number of +consultations, involved," said Shagarach, resolutely. "Do you wish my +advice?" + +"I shall not pay the charge if it is unreasonable," growled Rabofsky. + +"For the present I advise you to lend only what you can with safety on +the pledges. I will see Mrs. Arnold about the estate and confer with you +further after our interview." + +At that moment Aronson opened the door, his eyes dancing with +excitement. He panted, as if he had just run upstairs. + +"Meester Shagarach," he broke in, but stood awed in the presence of +Rabofsky, who was a potent man in the Ghetto. + +"Escort Mr. Rabofsky to the stairs," said Shagarach, approaching +Aronson, so that the latter might have an opportunity to whisper his +message. He was none too soon, for a young man had already entered the +door of the outer room. + +"Kennedy," whispered Aronson. + +It was Harry Arnold's friend. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +BROWBEATING EXTRAORDINARY. + + +"Will you take in my card? I'm in a deuce of a rush," said Kennedy to +Aronson when the latter had dismissed Simon Rabofsky. Shagarach read his +name, daintily engraved in the form to which the weather-vane of fashion +had at that moment veered and was imperatively pointing. It introduced +"Mr. Arthur K. Foxhall." + +"I will see the gentleman in a few minutes," said he. Shagarach must +have transacted an almost incredible amount of business in the interim, +for his waiting-room was cleared of clients when "Mr. Arthur K. Foxhall" +was at length admitted. + +"I received this communication from you. My lawyer informs me that it +contains matter defamatory per se." He tossed a letter down on the table +at which Shagarach was sitting, with his arms folded as usual. "But +before taking action on the matter I thought I would give you an +opportunity to explain." + +"The note is in English, is it not?" said Shagarach. + +"It might pass for such," replied young man supercilious. + +"Then it needs no further explanation. The sooner you and your lawyer +begin your action the better pleased I shall be." Shagarach began +writing a letter coolly, as if the matter were at an end, but his +visitor, either in nervousness or anger, tapped the polished tip of his +shoe with his cane. It was certainly a most aggressive-looking weapon, +with its knob carved into a scowling bulldog's head. + +"Gentlemen"--he emphasized the word--"men of honor," he paused again, +"do not use language of others which they cannot defend, either before +the courts of law or by giving personal satisfaction." + +"Gentlemen and men of honor do not fabricate lies after taking a solemn +oath to tell nothing but the truth," answered Shagarach, without +glancing up from the note he was scribbling. + +"The third person protects you. You use the coward's refuge, innuendo, +because you dare not address the charge to me directly." + +Shagarach picked up his letter, which the visitor had thrown down. + +"I have taken particular pains to be direct as well as explicit over my +own signature. I find that I have accused you, Arthur Kennedy Foxhall," +he emphasized the middle name, though it was only initialed in the +address, "of deliberate perjury in the case of Commonwealth vs. Bail. My +letters do not as a rule require marginal annotations or parol addition +to make their meaning clear, and I am credited with sufficient prudence +to foresee their consequences before writing them." + +Shagarach folded his arms again and his great eyes pierced Foxhall--or +Kennedy as he was generally called. It was the family name of a rich +relative who had adopted and supported him. + +"No," he added, slowly, "this is hardly a case for prosecution or for +personal satisfaction. The duello is out of date." + +"My valet might object to the opponent I assigned him," said the +self-styled gentleman and man of honor. Shagarach's retort was swift, +yet uttered without the twitch of an eyelash, as though he were simply +recalling his visitor to the original business. + +"His master lied in order to prove an alibi for Charles Munroe----" + +Kennedy's chalky face flushed faintly. + +"If the sword is out of fashion the cane is not," he cried, lifting his +formidable bulldog. + +"The principal witness against my client in the Bail case," continued +Shagarach, raising his voice and controlling Kennedy with his eyes, "and +himself the beneficiary of the check which my client was accused of +forging." + +"You got him off. That was enough. Are you trying to blackmail us for a +heavier fee?" + +"The case was a conspiracy instigated by Charles Munroe and abetted by +his friends, among whom Arthur Kennedy Foxhall was the most conspicuous +for his zeal." + +"You scum of a shyster! Do you think you can jew me into a dicker?" + +Shagarach arose and walked to the window. He was not an equestrian, but +natural perception taught him the useful rule to turn his horse's head +when he starts to run away. Facing suddenly about, he said: + +"I am a Jew, true. Perhaps that is why I do not poison myself with +opium." + +The young man's cheek grew pale again. The cane dropped and he sunk in +his chair. + +"Am I to be prosecuted for that also?" The anger in his tones had +flickered away to a feeble peevishness. "How do you know?" + +"Because you are wearing a light overcoat with the mercury at 80," +answered Shagarach, who had glanced at the thermometer in his window. +"Because you have the glazed eye of a man in fever, and because you lie +like an oriental!" + +This time Kennedy made no protest against the insult. He was succumbing +to the strain placed upon his shattered nerves by the remorseless man +across the table. + +"There is your cause of action," said Shagarach, tossing back his +letter. Again he dipped his pen in the ink preparing to write. + +"What do you want of me?" asked Kennedy. + +"Nothing," Shagarach had half-filled the sheet. He was stamping the +envelope when the next question slowly came. + +"Why do you follow up the matter? Your client is safe?" + +"But the community is no longer safe when perjurers strut about, +masquerading as the sole guardians of honor." + +He folded his arms once more and looked straight at his man. In another +the gesture might seen theatrical, but it was Shagarach's natural +attitude in thought, like the bowed head and lowered eyes of the +philosopher burrowing into the depths of things, or the uplifted gaze of +the poet leaving earth for the stars and sunset. The lawyer's interests +lay in the horizontal plane, and the faces of fellow-men were his study. + +"Yes, I am reputed inexorable to perjurers. It is true. They rarely +escape me unpunished. As a consequence, witnesses prefer to tell me the +truth, which is an advantage to my clients, of whose interests I am the +devoted servitor." + +"And you will ruin me to gratify this--this----" + +"I will procure your indictment for perjury and conspiracy in the case +of Commonwealth vs. Bail." + +Kennedy trembled like one with an ague. But stronger men than he had +yielded as abjectly to Shagarach. He was a blood of high standing, with +a fortune as well as a reputation to lose. The chances of a felon's +succeeding to the property of old Angus Kennedy, the millionaire, who +had adopted him, were relatively slight. + +"What is the penalty for perjury?" he asked, in a random way, as if at a +loss what to say or do. + +"Imprisonment at hard labor." + +"It is not punishable by fine?" + +"Never." + +There was a pause, broken only by the rustling of Aronson's papers in +the outer room. Then Shagarach spoke. + +"You have an appointment with Harry Arnold for next Wednesday evening." + +Kennedy started up. His smooth face grew cadaverous and the helpless +look of a kneeling suppliant came into his eyes, which were riveted on +the great, wide orbs of his tormentor. + +"At a gambling resort," continued Shagarach. + +"I am not a gambler," Kennedy's voice was hollow, his expression +piteous. Shagarach studied him a moment. Probably he was speaking the +truth. The evil passions are jealous and absolute monarchs. Seldom does +more than one of them reign at a time. + +"But Harry Arnold is." + +"Harry is plunging heavily." + +Shagarach was satisfied at last. An adequate motive for Harry's deed was +clearly in view. It was not the most heinous crime which had been +committed to gratify the gamester's passion. + +"I wish to be with you on that occasion." + +"It will be hard," answered Kennedy, his face clouded with consternation +and a torrid flush of something like shame sweeping over it. "The +Dove-Cote is too well guarded." + +"The Dove-Cote!" Shagarach was betrayed into an ejaculation of surprise. +This was the "Tough-Coat" which Aronson's imperfect articulation had +disguised. + +"It may be hard, but it is not impossible." + +"Not impossible, no." + +"Well-known men are seen there at times?" + +"Oh, yes." + +Kennedy smiles. + +"And your escape from prison depends upon my obtaining entrance." + +The smile had faded away. + +"Why do you wish to be there?" + +"My reasons are my own. However, I will make a limited confidant of you. +I am at work upon a cause which logical study does not perfectly +elucidate. That frequently happens. I must see my man off his guard, +when he is most himself. My visit to the Dove-Cote will be a +psychological study." + +"They will compel me to vouch for your good faith." + +"You may do so. Nothing seen or heard by me there will ever be revealed. +I go, as I have told you, to study a soul, not to gather facts. The +facts are already mine." + +"Where shall I call for you?" + +"Here." + +"At 8 o'clock?" + +"Very well. There is one condition attached to our bargain. You shall +not reveal this appointment to Harry Arnold." + +"He will be there----" + +"But he does not know me. We probably shall not meet. Other--gentlemen, +as you call them--will be there." + +"Miss Barlow," said Aronson, at this moment opening the door. + +Kennedy had arisen to go, but turned curiously when he heard the sweet +voice from without. + +"Only a moment, Mr. Shagarach." + +The lawyer stepped out and conferred with her. She had run down in her +lunch hour, full of a new project which she burned to carry out, but +like everything else, she had thought it best first to submit it to +Shagarach. His approval was given coolly, she thought. + +"Some one of the park policemen may have seen him." + +"Possibly." + +"If not, how can you explain those four hours of forgetfulness--I mean, +of course, to the satisfaction of a jury?" + +"It is not unprecedented. I have an explanation, or the germ of one. +However, pursue your inquiries. They may prove of value. And, when you +visit Floyd, occasionally wear a water lily." + +"Why?" + +"It was the flower he brought you that evening." + +Emily caught the impertinent stare of the manikin within just as she was +turning to leave. + +"Understand, Kennedy," said Shagarach, "if Arnold is informed of this +agreement, directly or indirectly, our contract is broken and I will +spare no pains to lodge you where you belong." + +His tone made the weakling shudder. + +"Why do you desire to conceal it from Harry?" he asked, obstinately. + +"Draw what inference you choose." + +Shagarach returned to his desk and Emily was uneasily aware that the +youth whom she had seen in his office passed her twice in the crowd +while she was making her way back to the studio. But Arthur Kennedy +Foxhall was too perturbed that day to practice with success even the +easy arts of the professional lady-killer. His pursuit of Emily only +registered on his memory a face which was to haunt him in his drug-fed +dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +GNAWING OF THE RAT'S TOOTH. + + +"Hello, Bobbs," called the solitary cracksman. "Put your hear to the +chink and let's 'ave a palaver." + +The "chink" was that hollow spot in the rear of the cell, where by +pressing his ear against the wall Floyd could hear communications from +Dobbs, inaudible to the rest of the prisoners. + +Robert wondered not a little at the persistent friendliness of the +fellow. He felt conscious of lacking the touch of comradeship. He might +even be called ascetic, were not the stigma precluded by his passion for +music and his love of landscape. Long botanical tramps with his uncle +had given him an acute feeling for the moods of nature, and in his +violin playing a deep sensibility found outlet through the practiced and +sensitive fingertips. But in general he had little palate for the +bouquet and effervescence of life, and was credited, therefore, with +less readiness of sympathy than his cousin, who responded quickly to +all fleeting impressions of pleasure. + +While Harry, as adjutant of his crack cadets, was seen prancing on +parade in all the bravery of gold lace, his sword hilt resting on his +saddle, his mustaches twisted to the curl of an ostrich feather, a +masterpiece of poise and splendor, Robert would be found in dun +civilian's garb, shoulder to shoulder with the multitude on the +sidewalk, studying the significance of the pageant. This strenuousness +acted as a bar to popularity. Harry could count twenty friends to +Robert's one. People called him by his given name at the second or third +meeting. Women, in particular, circled about him like moths about a +taper. But Floyd, who shunned no man's eye, sought no woman's. This may +have been why the one girl to whom he had given his heart believed his +nature to be of sterling gold. + +There was much in the prison life to quicken the thoughts of so serious +an observer, but all his attempts to record the impressions had ended in +failure. He soon realized that no man can at once live and write. Our +deeper experiences need to be mellowed by distance, just as we must back +away to a certain focus before we can feel the sentiment of a painting. +There was nothing left but to bide his time as patiently as possible, +occasionally beguiling the long hours by conversation with Dobbs. + +This scoundrel had an unctuous manner which was hard to resist. His +quaint, infectious chuckle and preeminence in crime made him a favorite +among the inmates of the ward--a popularity which he generously used to +secure for Robert a certain immunity from insult. The young man could +not help feeling grateful for this. Besides, the man's incurable asthma, +which he attributed himself to "hexposure to cold night blarsts in the +performance of perfessional duties," entitled him to sympathy. Indeed, +he was often removed to the hospital for days at a time. During these +intervals Robert remarked the cessation of a curious grating noise which +seemed to come from his neighbor's cell. + +"Blood's thicker than water, Bobbs. You and Hi are Henglish, you know. +These 'ere bloomin' coves get red-'eaded over nothing. Don't catch me +mutineerin' and violatin' the rules. Ho, no." + +This was true. So far as outward behavior went, Dobbs was an exemplary +prisoner. + +"By the way, Dobbs, my name is Floyd," said Robert. + +"Ho, you don't mind bein' called Bobbs, chummy. That's cute for Robert. +Hi found out your name. We hall know wot you're jugged for. It's harson, +eh?" + +"Yes." + +"'Ow did you set it?" + +"I am as innocent of the charge as you are." Robert's tone was curt. He +felt vexed to be the subject of discussion among this crew. + +"That's just wot I told the judge, chummy, w'en ee politely hasked me if +Hi 'ad anything to say. But it didn't work, chummy. Hi'm a-winkin' at +you, Bobbs." + +The invisible wink probably expressed incredulity, but Robert did not +care to debate his own case with his neighbor. + +"Hi knows it's a delicate matter, and some folks Hi wouldn't trust, +neither. But Dobbs is your friend, Bobbs, and ready to prove ee's true +blue. Do you know I like the sound o' them two names. Dobbs and Bobbs. +Suppose we go into business together. + + "DOBBS AND BOBBS + "ROBS FOBS. + +"'Ow's that for a partnership sign?" + +Dobbs exploded in a paroxysm of laughter and coughing over his own +cleverness as a rhymester. The fit was continued so long that his +neighbors began to protest in their ungentle fashion. + +"Say, Dobbs, get into your coffin, quick," cried one. The same whose +voice sounded familiar to Robert though he was unable to place it. It +was a thick, uncouth utterance, as though the speaker's natural brogue +were assisted by the presence of a ball of yarn. + +"'Old your bloomin' breath for Longlegs," answered Dobbs. + +The passage of the hated turnkey caused a diversion in his favor. +Longlegs was a tall man of remarkably bony strength. The convicts were +only collectively brave against him. When not gathered in packs they +avoided his stern visage as a lone wolf slinks away from the hunter. His +right name was Hawkins, but almost nobody within these precincts escaped +a sobriquet. Warden Tapp was "the Pelican," Turnkey Gradger was "Gimp" +and a particularly vile denizen went under the name of "Parson." Dobbs +explained his own escape quaintly. + +"You see, chummy, Dobbs his a nickname halready. You can't forshorten it +no more." + +The visitor who accompanied Hawkins shared the unpopularity of his +escort. + +"Whoop, da, da, da!" + +"He's a yellow aster." + +"Lend me your monocle, Cholly, and don't be wude." + +But the tall, blond-bearded man with the monocle sauntered leisurely +along, looking into every cell until he reached the end of the corridor. +Then he turned back and stopped before Dobbs, while Hawkins clanked his +keys beside him. + +"If God writes a legible hand, that man's a villain," he quoted from the +old-time actor; "what name do you go by?" + +"Bill Dobbs." + +"Hand me out that pen and ink and I'll draw your picture." + +"W'ere?" + +"On your thumb nail. The right one. That's it." + +It seemed scarcely half a minute before Hawkins was heard exclaiming: + +"That's a stunning likeness." + +"Take away this 'ere lookin'-glass o' mine, Longlegs, and bestow it on +the poor. Wot use 'ave Hi for it w'en Hi carry my hown himage on the +hend of my bloomin' thumb?" + +"You've a face of great power and cunning," said the artist, "but +there's one thing you lack." + +"Wot's that?" + +"Reverence. Some day I'll use you for a mask of Iago that I've had in +mind." + +"Thanks. Wot's your name, stranger?" + +"Tristram March." It was our artist friend, rummaging for types in this +out-of-the-way corner. + +"You've a sort of a soft lip about you and a delicate horgan of hodor. +But there's one thing you lack?" + +"What?" + +"Starch. Hi'm a-thinkin' Hi'll copy my make-up after you next time Hi +play 'Amlet to the queen's Ophelia." + +Tristram's good-natured laugh was the last thing Robert heard as he +sauntered away. + +A sculptor, friends called him if pressed for a definition. Yet in truth +he had never yet executed a figure of life size, being a modern instance +of talent without ambition, dispersing and dividing its strength. He +modeled, painted, rhymed, composed--a many-faceted reflector of +impressions; but everything he did was done by halves and the most +finished of his products were only brilliant sketches. His sister +Rosalie's single gift, besides her beauty (which, to be sure, entered +into it as a primary element), came to her less by nature than by ardent +aspiration. But critics had compared her Rosalind to a perfect rose, +blown into a bulb of glass; and she was still a patient learner, +standing tiptoe on the vestibule of her art, with an untold future +before her. + +"'Ow did Hi begin?" said the cracksman, when the confusion had subsided. + +Robert was again at the chink, like some penitent whispering through a +grating to his father confessor. "Hi never began. Hi was born wicked. +Wicked Willie they called me w'en Hi wasn't old enough to toddle halone. +And 'ere's 'ow Hi earned it, Bobbs." + +"How?" + +"You see, my mother, who was a hinnocent woman and a Christian, took me +out on 'er harms to see the lord mayor's procession, the lord mayor o' +Lunnon wot 'as all the wittles to eat, you know. And w'ile they was all +preoccupied admirin' 'is lordship's gold buttons, wot was Wicked Willie +a-doin' of but leanin' forward in 'is mamma's harms and pluckin' a +hear-ring w'ich ee liked, hout of a grand lady's hear. 'Ow!' says the +lady, w'en it 'urt; and Wicked Willie 'ad 'is 'ands slapped, w'ich Hi +say ee richly deserved, seein' as 'ow ee bungled the bloomin' job." + +"From the cradle up you were a thief," said Robert, sadly. + +"Ho, them bantam games don't count." + +"When did you first begin professionally?" + +"Do you count a gunniff a perfessional in this 'ere country?" + +"A gunniff? What's that?" + +"Don't you know wot a gunniff is, Bobbs? W'y. Hi'm amazed. Hi'll 'ave to +present chummy with a Century dictionary in sixteen volumes w'ich we'll +be hable to do w'en we get out of 'ere, w'ich won't be long. Hi'm +a-winkin.'" + +All the time that he spoke Robert heard a low scraping noise, softer +than the rasping he had noticed in the evenings. Apparently it was close +to his ear. + +"A gunniff is a juvenile institution peculiar to our bloomin' hold +Hengland." + +"Leave out some of your bloomings, won't you, especially about England." + +"W'y not, chummy? Ain't it in the dic? Is it a wulgar word?" + +Robert did not reply, but he thought how many words as sacred and +beautiful as this have been profaned to foul uses or cheapened to the +vapidity of a Frenchman's "Mon Dieu." + +"Hi beg your bloomin' pardon, Bobbs. If it's wulgar, Hi drop it, and +with your leave Hi'll resume my hinterrupted hautobiography." + +"You call yourself a gunniff?" + +"Gunniff in general, but more particularly Hi was a snatcher, w'ich +takes precedence of the mob by reason of the difficulty of 'is duties, +of the taker as well as of the blokie and the moke." + +"What's the English for blokie and moke?" + +"The Henglish? W'y, Hi'm amazed. Don't tell me you bilked 'em all so +'andily on settin' that 'ouse afire. Hi won't believe it of a chummy as +hasks me wot a blokie and a moke is." + +"I never heard the words before." + +"W'y, the mokes do the scrappin' wen the gent 'as been relieved of 'is +pocketbook, w'ich is too heavy for 'im to carry, by the willin' and +accommodatin' little snatcher, w'ich was me." + +"You began as a pickpocket?" + +"Pickpocket? Wot does that mean? Hi never 'eard that word. We were +hexpress boys. Is pickpocket the bloomin' Americanese for that? Hi'm +a-winkin' at you, Bobbs." + +This conclusion was invariably the prelude to a burst of laughter, which +was so droll and self-satisfied that it put Robert in good humor in +spite of everything. + +"Four of us, Bobbs, and that makes a mob. First we picked out our gent, +always a hold gent or a bloomin' swell, a-standin' in the crowd. Four of +us playin', rompin', friskin', about 'im, as hinnocent little fellows +will, bless 'em all, w'en, hall of a sudden, one bumps up against the +bloomin' gent's pocket not with 'is 'ands, you know? The bloomin' gent +might fancy ee was a hobject of hinterest to us if ee used 'is 'ands, +w'ich ee hisn't, ho, no! That's the blokie wot does the bumpin'. Ee +wears a thin shirt and a huncommonly hintelligent spine w'ich can feel a +'ard lump in a gent's pocket surprisin'." + +"The blokie ascertains where his purse is located?" + +"And the snatcher, w'ich was Wicked Willie, relieves 'im of it gently." + +"How?" + +"'Ow? By makin' a hopportunity. There's nothin' in this world like +makin' a hopportunity for yourself, Bobbs. And if two little fellers get +a-scrappin' and jostle a hold gent hover, and a crowd comes and the hold +gent gets hinterested in separatin' the little fellers, and givin' them +a moral lecture, 'ow's ee a-goin' to know w'ere 'is valuables went, +unless ee reaches to present 'em with a 'alf-crown apiece, w'ich he +don't." + +"Is that common in London?" + +"Run into the ground, Bobbs, completely wulgarized. No self-respectin' +gent would bring up 'is bantams in that line nowadays. But hafterward, +w'en Hi was alightin' my 'Avana cigars with the old lady's ten-pun +notes, Hi always looked back on my rompin's with the mob as the +beginnin's, 'umble but 'onorable, of a great and useful career." + +During the talk it had seemed to Robert that the cracksman's voice was +coming nearer. + +"What's making that noise, Dobbs?" + +"Wot noise, chummy?" + +"That little scraping." + +"You can 'ear it?" + +"It's close to the chink." + +"That's a rat's tooth gnawin'. Hi'm a-winkin' at you, Bobbs." + +"Are you cutting into the wall?" + +"Look 'ere, chummy. Dobbs 'as given hall the confidence so far, and +Bobbs 'as given none. 'Ow is Dobbs to know Bobbs is true blue?" + +This was a puzzler. Robert did not feel prepared to abet prison-breach +yet, if that was the cracksman's aim, though his own feeling toward the +authorities was anything but submissive. + +"Hi'm 'urt, Bobbs. Hi've a sensitive nature and a large bump of +curiosity, both of w'ich is offended by my chummy's lack of confidence +in me. But Hi'll prove Hi'm true blue, wotever Bobbs says. Chummies is +chummies and bobbies is bobbies, there's the distinction Hi draw. Do you +'ear the tooth?" + +The gnawing sound became louder at Robert's ear. + +"That's a hinstrument Hi hown w'ich Hi wouldn't show to the Pelican +'imself, but Bobbs shall see it and feel it if he likes." + +"Is it a file?" + +"A wery little file." + +"How did you smuggle it in?" + +"Just in a little plug o' smoke, Bobbs, w'ich a friend sent me for my +'ealth, w'ich is poor, as my bloomin' associates around me 'ere +frequently observe. Nobody'd look for a little rat's tooth laid +crossways in a little plug o' smoke, with the 'andle alongside of it, +would they, Bobbs?" + +"Are you sawing the bars?" + +"Ham I? It's all done." + +"You've sawed them through?" + +"And poor little hinnocent Bobbs never 'eard me." + +Dobbs went off in a peal of laughter. + +"But how do you hide the cuts in the bars when any one comes?" + +"Wot'll stop a leak in a gas-pipe? Soap. Wot'll 'ide a slice in a sawed +bar? Gum." + +"Gum?" + +"You see, chummy, the wentilation is poor in 'ere. There's a green +mildew on my floor and the bloomin' spiders is too silent to be sociable +company. But you never 'eard me 'ollerin', Bobbs." + +Indeed, he always lay low during the outbreaks. His methods were more +secretive. He was the villain by trade. + +"But my sympathy is with the bloomin' mutineers hall the time. So I pick +away with my rat's tooth w'en the others is 'ollerin' and even green +little hinnocent Bobbs cawn't 'ear me." + +The rasping sound illustrated his meaning. + +"Ee won't trust me, but Hi trust 'im. We'll see who can keep a secret, +and who leaks." + +There was a sound as if something had been slid out of the wall on the +other side and of a sudden Dobbs' whisper became startlingly distinct. + +"Honly a few minutes, Bobbs. Hi 'old the plaster in my pockets, and the +rat's tooth in my fingers w'ile Hi gnaw and gnaw." The tool began +working rapidly and dexterously. In a short time Dobbs spoke again: + +"Tap 'em till you feel it 'ollow, and shove on the 'ollow spot." + +Robert tapped the wall. + +"Shove 'arder." + +Robert gave a stiff push with his elbow. The brick was loosened and gave +way. + +"Now, catch it, chummy." + +Slowly the Englishman shoved the brick toward Robert, till it protruded +from his side of the cell. It would have fallen on the bed if Robert had +not caught it. After the brick came a hand and the striped sleeve of a +convict's arm. It was a characteristic hand, broad, with spatulate +fingernails and a black star on the fleshy ball between forefinger and +thumb. But the cracksman must have fallen out with his own likeness as +Iago, for his thumb-nail was clean as a whistle. Between the fingers lay +a tiny file of rarest workmanship. Its teeth were set almost as sharply +as those of a saw, and the steel was tempered to the hardness of +adamant. + +"'Ow's that for a tooth, Bobbs?" + +Floyd took it for a moment, but a step was heard coming along the +corridor. It was Longlegs. + +"Quick, Bobbs, put back the brick." + +Dobbs' voice grew hoarse with excitement. Robert replaced the block on +his side, and heard the convict doing the same on the other. As Longlegs +passed, Dobbs fell into a tremendous spasm of coughing. The turnkey +hastened to the end of the corridor, jangling his keys as if deriding +the derision with which he was greeted all the way. He had run his +gantlet too often to heed the jeers and grimaces he met. There was a +sound as if he were unlocking the farther door and then relocking it +from the outside. + +"That's a very useful cough," whispered Dobbs to Floyd. It had ceased +all of a sudden. "It drives undesirable acquaintances about their +business and it procures me admission to the 'ospital, w'ich is a +sociable and communicative quarter. Hi'm a-winkin'." + +Robert was beginning to understand things. The cracksman was +malingering. It was through the hospital that he communicated with his +friends outside. + +"And Hi 'ope that Dobbs 'as given ample proof to Bobbs that ee his +deservin' of 'is confidence." + +Robert looked down and started at the temptation before him. The file +lay in his hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +A TRIP TO HILLSBOROUGH. + + +The life of Emily Barlow during this balmy month of summer might be +described as an oscillation in criss-cross between her home and the +studio in one direction, and Shagarach's office and the state prison in +the other. For in spite of Robert's protest she had returned several +times to pour the sunlight of her sympathy into his cell, and the +convicts, either because the latent manhood in them went out to a brave +girl doing battle for her lover, or because Dobbs had exercised his +influence in her behalf, offered no repetition of their first affront. + +The point of intersection between these two much-traveled routes was a +certain down-town corner, where Emily was already becoming a familiar +figure to the policeman who escorted ladies over the crossing. A more +disagreeable feature of her passage of this point was the frequent +appearance there of Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. But Emily, like other +golden-haired girls, was accustomed to rude glances from men, and had +learned to tolerate them as we accept turbid weather, muddy streets and +the other unavoidable miseries of life. + +She had been riding in the steam car fully fifteen minutes before she +could determine in what direction the hostile influence lay. It could +not be the mere uncertainty of her journey. Even if Bertha were not with +the Arnolds at Hillsborough, it did not follow that her sweetheart was +lost. At first broadly pervasive, like an approaching fog, the malign +presence had gradually begun to locate itself near her, and it was with +a sudden shock, like the first splash of a long-delayed shower, that she +realized she was under observation from the passenger in front. + +He had never turned around since they had left the station. To all +appearances he was buried in a magazine. There was not even a sidewise +position to indicate that he was keeping her within the field of his +vision. Yet Emily knew that every sense of the man was alert in her +direction, and that by a sort of diffused palpation, like that of the +blind, he was aware of her slightest gesture. She thought of moving back +to escape the oppression, or forward into another car. But the station +platforms on either side lay in full view of the windows, and she felt +that the relief would be only temporary. He would follow her out. + +Who was the stranger? She was certain she had never seen his round, +shaven face before, yet she felt that it was some one whose fortunes +were bound in with hers, some one whom she would recognize, when his +name was uttered, as a familiar. All efforts to dispel this dim fear +were fruitless. She tried to gaze out at the skimming landscape, but +some subtle force gripped her muscles and turned her head to the front. +She closed her eyes, but the image still floated before her and she knew +it was there to thwart her purpose and work her lover harm. + +Fully fifty minutes of the ride had been rendered wretched to Emily by +these doubts and fears, when the conductor entered to collect the +tickets for Hillsborough. The man in front seemed to jerk himself out of +his fit of absorption. He fumbled for his oblong blue card, on which +Emily espied the lettering "Hillsborough." But the hand which delivered +it struck a numbness in her heart. It was broad and fleshy, with the +fingernails which are said to betray the professional criminal, and a +star worked in black ink on the protuberance between forefinger and +thumb. Robert had described this peculiarity in his cell-acquaintance, +Bill Dobbs. If it were he, this was a strange situation in which to find +the solitary cracksman. Perhaps it was one of his "hospital days." + +"Hillsborough! Hillsborough!" came the announcement from both ends of +the car, followed by the usual banging of doors. Emily started for the +rear exit, which was the nearer. Once alighted, she walked leisurely +forward along the platform. A side glance upward revealed Bill Dobbs +just leaving his seat and passing to the rear, exactly in her footsteps. +When he caught her eye he smiled. It was true. He was pursuing her. Her +spirits sank, and she did not quicken her pace. The engine stood +champing like an impatient horse beside her, for she was almost abreast +of the tender. + +"All aboard!" the uniformed trainmen were crying. Emily glanced around. +Bill Dobbs was just entering the station door, apparently taking no more +notice of her than of the drivers soliciting his custom. But she knew +that her least movement was under his cognizance. With a quick jump she +placed her foot on the step, and, catching a conductor's hand, remounted +the moving train. A backward glance, as she sunk into her seat, +discovered Bill Dobbs sauntering up the road. + +An interval of regret seized Emily when she reviewed her conduct calmly. +Had she, indeed, escaped some unknown danger? Or was she the victim of a +girl's foolish illusion? She was beginning to chide herself as a prey to +superstition when the realities of her predicament suddenly forced +themselves upon her by the reappearance of the conductor. + +"What is the next station, please?" + +"Elmwood." + +"How far is that?" + +"Two miles." + +Two miles. To be carried two miles beyond Hillsborough into the +neighboring township! Possibly the Arnold estate lay midway between, but +it was more probable that she would be footsore and spent before she +reached the house where Bertha was supposed to be living. There was an +extra fare to pay, a brief whirling glimpse of woodland and meadow, and +then the engine slacked up again before a cottage-like, rustic station. + +A circle of 12-year-olds desisted from their romp to watch the sweet +lady approaching them. + +"Little boy, could you direct me to the Arnold mansion?" she said to the +oldest. + +"Arnold mansion? Don't know any Arnolds round here." + +"They live in Hillsborough. How far is that?" + +"Oh, I know," put in a tot in tires. "That's the lady that has the +gardens way over on the Hillsborough line." + +"'Bout five miles from here, isn't it, Chester?" said another. + +"Can't I get a carriage to drive me there?" Emily felt equal to five +miles or twenty, now that she was once started, but if feasible she +would have preferred to let some four-footed creature do the walking. + +"Well," said Chester, "you see the coach is up at the academy and I +guess it won't come down till the game is over. You might get a wagon." + +"Oh, well, somebody may give me a ride. Which way does Hillsborough +lie?" + +"Follow this road straight along, till you come to the bridge. That's +the Hillsborough line and I guess anybody over there will tell you." + +Emily thanked her guides and sped off on her long trudge. Behind her she +heard the boys' shrill chirps, mingled with the light soprano of +girlhood, running up and down the bright gamut of pleasure. How +melodious their joyous inflections were, compared with the harsh +syllables she was accustomed to hear from the children of the pavements. +How much richer and deeper this country stillness than the everlasting +murmur of the city, which makes silence only a figure of speech to the +dwellers within its walls. + +But is not all silence figurative and relative, thought Emily, a mere +hint at some magnificent placid experience, only possible in its purity +to the inhabitants of outer space? Even the countryside was not still. +Plump sparrows, dusting themselves in the road, never ceased their +brawling. The shy brown thrush swerved across her path at intervals and +bubbled his song from the thickets. The meadowlark left his +tussock-hidden nest to greet the world proudly from the pasture rock, +and far away the phoebe's plaintive utterance of his lost love's name +pierced the sibilance of the trees. + +"There's a loam for you," said an old gardener, spading an oval plot on +a lawn. His bulbs and potted sproutings were arranged at one side. +"Feel. 'Twouldn't soil a queen's hands. Dry as meal and brown as a +berry. Same for two feet down." + +Emily took up a handful to please the old man. It crumbled between her +fingers like the soft brown sugar which grocers display in crocks, +though not, as youthful customers sometimes think, to be scooped and +paddled with by idle hands. + +"I can see roses in that, miss," said the gardener, turning up a deep +spadeful for her inspection. But time was precious and she shortened the +commonplaces, breaking away toward Hillsborough. + +All that was visible of Elmwood was a cluster of cottages about the +station and a few outlying farms. A brick building crowning its highest +hill was probably the academy to which her guides had referred. On both +sides the country opened out in great reaches of level fertility, groves +of dark trees rising at intervals where the pools lay that nourished +their roots. Now they sprung up by the roadside and overarched her with +drooping boughs. + +Looking upward, as she walked, almost alone, Emily felt herself the +center of a greater mystery, embracing, as it were, that in which her +sweetheart was entangled. Nights of vigil had begun to overstring her +nerves. That strange doubling of impressions which attacks us in such +moods, making a kind of mirage of the mind, came over her. Everything +about her seemed familiar, as old as her infancy, as the world itself. +Elmwood! She had babbled the name in her cradle days, her earliest +rambles had been through its grassy paths. Yonder silver-birch, whose +delicately scalloped foliage rose and drooped in long strings, as if the +foamy spurt of a fountain should be frozen in its fall, had it not +printed itself on her memory somewhere a thousand times before? The +three urchins passing her from behind, surely their faces were not +strange. + +It may be Emily was right about the urchins and that there was no +mirage in her recollection of them. She had been present on the morning +when Ellen's body was found and they may have stood by her side in the +crowd. + +"I'm stiff, Whistler," said one of them in the broad drawl of the city +gamin. + +"Don't expect to be limber after ridin' twenty miles on a car truck, do +yer, Turkey? What place is this, anyway?" + +"I'll stump yez to come over in the swamp and get some little frogs," +said urchin number three, who was no other than our crabbed young +acquaintance, Toot Watts. + +Emily wondered, as she saw them disappear down in the meadows, whether +they had really been her fellow-passengers all the way from the city. +How dingy they were! Not a point of color except the peachy cheeks of +Whistler and the golden glow at the end of Turkey's cigarette. + +When she reached the academy playground she thought she must have +covered two miles. There was a game in progress between two baseball +clubs of rival academies and the sight of sportive youths and cheering +onlookers was welcome to her after so long a spell of solitude. She was +unhappily ignorant of the rudiments of that most scientific of games. +"Fly" and "grounder" to her were simply undistinguishable terms of a +barbaric technical jargon. But the sparkle of eager eyes and the motion +of active limbs, set off by graceful costumes, was, perhaps, more +apparent to her than if appreciation of the spectacle had been +overwhelmed by interest in the match. + +What breeding in the salute, in the very tones, when one of the +outfielders, chasing a hit out of bounds, begged pardon for jostling +against her ever so little. For a moment, admiring the liberal swing of +his arm, as he made the long throw home, though the most womanly of +women, she envied men the bodily freedom which they deny to their +sisters. Presumably the play was successful, for its result was greeted +with plaudits, and the club afield closed in toward the plate. + +Beyond the ball ground, under a clump of willows, Emily was surprised +to come upon her three fellow-passengers once more. They must have cut +through the meadows on the other side of the academy. The grove made a +screen completely hiding them from the playground, and there was no one +else about. Against a rocky wall three bicycles were resting. + +"Let's take a ride, fellers," said the one who had been addressed as +"Turkey." + +"Cheese it. There's somebody comin'," protested the Whistler. + +"Come on. I'm sick of this. Them fellers can't play a little bit." + +"On'y a little ride around. They'll never know," added Toot. + +Turkey boldly led the way, mounting like a veteran. Toot followed +quickly, and finally the Whistler, finding himself abandoned by his +comrades, swallowed his scruples and joined them. His was a girl's +wheel, but he overtook his companions easily. + +"Boys! Stop!" Emily found herself calling out a remonstrance. All three +turned their heads at this shrill command, but it only made them speed +away more rapidly. The road was downhill here, and the pedals whirled +around like the crank-shaft of a flying locomotive. Should she turn back +and give the alarm? It was a good stretch for limbs already weary and +with an unknown number of miles before them. Besides, this was probably +nothing worse than a boyish prank. If only city-street boys were like +country-academy boys, she sighed. Perhaps they would be if they all had +natty uniforms to wear and a bicycle apiece. No doubt the gamins would +soon turn about, although they acted as though her outcry had frightened +them; and the last she saw of them they were pedaling for dear life +toward the city, twenty miles away. + +Circumstances were to be greatly altered when Emily met these young +racers again. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +STAMPEDE AND AVALANCHE. + + +Is there in all the world a sight more wholesome and comforting to the +tired wayfarer than a loaded hay-cart? When Emily spied one ahead of her +she felt a little throb of pleasure in her bosom and at once hastened +her step to overtake it. The farmer was asleep on the seat, with a +sundown over his face. + +"Perhaps I had better wake him," thought Emily. "Won't your horse run +away?" + +"Run away?" The peaked old face was wide open of a sudden. "Guess not, +miss, not with that load on. Dobbin ain't no pony. Step aboard? How far +are you baound?" + +"I am looking for the Arnold mansion." + +"Arnold mansion? This is just the kerridge you want to take. Mrs. +Arnold's a putty close neighbor of aours." + +Grateful for the offer, Emily climbed into the creaky seat under the +fragrant, overhanging load. + +"You b'long in Foxtaown, I s'pose?" + +"No. I'm from the city." + +"All the way from the city? Well, I declare. I thot I knew all the +Elmwood leddies. I s'pose things are putty brisk in taown these days?" + +"Oh, yes. We always have plenty of excitement. Too much, I fear. Some of +us miss the quiet you enjoy out here among the meadows." + +The rustic meditated upon this a moment, chewing a straw. + +"Speakin' of medders, haow's hay sellin'?" + +"I don't know, really," answered Emily. She was not informed on this +utilitarian side of the subject. + +"Just been shavin' my ten-acre lot daown the road. Did most o' the +mowin' ourselves, me and Ike, that's my brother, with the Loomis boy. +But he ain't good for much except forkin' it on. You wouldn't s'pose +there was a clean ton o' hay on this wagon, would you?" + +"No, indeed," answered Emily. This was true. She would not have ventured +any supposition at all as to the weight of the hay. + +"Good medder-grass, too." + +"Do you live in Hillsborough?" + +"Aour haouse jest abaout straddles the line, but wife goes to meetin' in +Elmwood." + +"I suppose she likes the services better?" + +"Nao. You see the Elmwood parson takes all our eggs, and wife thinks +'twouldn't do to spile a payin' customer. Woa! Here comes wife's nephew, +Silas Tompkins." + +"Evenin' uncle," nodded the young man in the buggy. + +"Evenin', Silas. Been down to the pasture?" + +"Yaas." + +"Well, haow are the oats lookin'?" + +"Comin' putty green, Uncle Silas," drawled the other, speeding by. + +Emily was wondering if a life of agricultural labor always gives such a +vegetable cast to people's minds, when a clatter of hoofs behind caused +her to turn her head. The cavalier was clothed in velvet of a soft, rich +bulrush-brown. Just as he passed them his eye caught something afar and +he shouted to the farmer: + +"Here's a runaway! Hug the right of the road!" + +They were turning a bend, but across the angle through the bushes a pair +of coal-black horses could be seen heading toward them. The farmer's +jerking at the reins was comical but effective. In a twinkling he had +his nag squeezed against the wall which bounded the narrow road. + +"Get up, Aladdin!" whispered the rider, and the horse, a powerful +roadster or steeplechaser, yet with limbs like a stag's, cantered +forward, as if to meet the wild blacks. But suddenly his master turned +him about and began trotting gently back, keeping to the other side of +the road and turning his head over his left shoulder toward the +approaching runaways. As they slewed around the bend their coachman was +flung from his seat into the grass border of the roadside. + +"Rosalie!" exclaimed the waiting cavalier, cutting his horse over the +flanks. It bounded away abreast of the team. Emily remembered a vague +whirl of spangled reins and a frightened face of rare beauty blushing +through its silver veil. + +"He's killed!" she cried, dismounting and running toward the coachman. +But the grass was like a cushion in its midsummer thickness, and he had +already picked himself up uninjured, save for bruises and a tattered +sleeve. + +"It was the gobbler frightened 'em," he said, starting off at a lame +dog-trot after the retreating carriage. Emily turned just in time to +witness a rare exhibition of coolness and skill. The chestnut had kept +abreast of the blacks with ease. At the right moment his rider, clinging +to the saddle and stirrup like a cossack, reached over with his left +hand and caught the reins of the foaming pair. Then gradually he slowed +up his steeplechaser, jerking powerfully at the bridles. The added +weight was too much for the runaways to pull, and all three were ambling +peacefully when they faded from sight in a cloud of dust. + +"I guess we'll start for hum," said the farmer. Emily was standing with +her finger on her lip, unconscious of his presence. + +"Putty slick on a horse, ain't he?" + +"Who?" + +"Young Arnold. He kin stick on like a clothes-pin, I tell yew." + +"Is that Harry Arnold?" + +"'Tain't no one else." + +Emily remembered how his expression had changed when he recognized the +lady in peril as "Rosalie," and felt like asking the farmer if he knew +her. But Griggs (she now learned his name) was prosing on about his new +barn, and she relapsed into silence. The rest of their road was an +avenue of elms. Through their interstices smiled the calm blue of the +late afternoon sky, tempered by contrast with the green of the foliage. +It was the first time she had ever observed this rare harmony of colors. + +"Woa! There!" said Griggs. "I'll set you daown here. The Arnolds' house +is up yonder over the hill. They ain't p'ticler friends of aours, but +the help come over and buy wife's cream." + +"Have they a girl in help named Bertha Lund?" + +"I s'pose wife knows the women-folks. I don't," replied the old man, +energetically reaching for his rake. + +"A new servant, this is." + +As if to answer her question, there came a loud bark from the little +woody knoll on the right of the road, and a great St. Bernard came +bounding down. It was Sire, who had recognized Emily. She knew that he +had been left in Bertha's charge and probably the housemaid was behind +him. + +"Sire! Sire!" her cheerful voice was heard calling through the +stillness. How fresh she looked with her soft country bloom and a golden +tan. + +"Is it you, Miss Barlow?" cried Bertha, opening her eyes in amazement. A +cream pitcher in one hand revealed her errand, but Farmer Griggs was +already half-way to his new barn, which lay fifty yards off the left of +the road. + +"Yes, Bertha," answered Emily, fondling Sire, who seemed almost to know +that she bore him a message from his master. "I have come all the way +out to meet you." + +"How is poor Mr. Robert?" + +"Not very well contented with his present quarters." + +"He is still in jail? Ah, poor young man! What a shame! And Ellen gone, +too! It was the beginning of trouble for all of us when the old +professor died." + +"It wasn't easy to find you, Bertha. You didn't leave your address with +Mrs. Christenson." + +"Indeed I did not." Bertha gave an independent toss of her head. "I had +no wish to be chased by her and coaxed to come back, and I'm very well +satisfied where I am, with my $5 and light duties and out of the city +and as kind treatment as if I was a visitor." + +Emily thought she might understand the reason of this bountiful +hospitality. + +"Mr. Shagarach, the lawyer, who is defending Robert, suggested that I +come and see you. You were so near the fire when it broke out, he +thought that you might know something that would help our side." + +"That I'll tell heartily. They sha'n't tie my tongue." + +"You don't believe Robert set the fire?" + +"No more than I did or Sire." + +Emily looked at the dog, who was crouched before them. He had lifted his +head at the mention of his name. + +"Ah, Sire, you know the solution of all this mystery, don't you? And +you'd tell it if you could." + +Sire barked an answer to this appeal and turned his head away, blinking, +as old dogs do. + +"But who could have done it, Bertha?" + +"Nobody in all the world. It just happened, like the other fire before." + +"Was there another fire before?" asked Emily, all eagerness. + +"Two or three years ago we had a fire in the study." + +"Tell me about it." + +"Oh, the professor had just gone upstairs a minute and when I went in +the big waste basket was blazing up." + +"There wasn't much damage then?" + +"If I hadn't opened the window and thrown it out on the sidewalk the +whole house might have been burned. Why, the study was nothing but a +tinder-box with the books on the shelves and magazines and papers always +thrown about." + +"After the fire had once started, I can see how it would spread. But the +mystery is, how did it start? You never followed the first fire up?" + +"Indeed we did. The professor was careful to follow it up, but they +could find nobody then and they'll find nobody now. It was just the will +of heaven." + +"I wish you could have told about this other fire at the examination, +Bertha." + +"I had it in my mind to tell, but the little thread of a man made me so +cross with his nagging, it all flew out of my head." + +"Robert--was Robert in the house when the other fire happened?" + +"Yes. I remember calling him, and he flew downstairs four at a time and +stamped out the sparks on the carpet." + +"What time of day was it?" + +"I'm not good to remember time. It was daytime, I know." + +"Forenoon or afternoon?" + +Bertha's knitted forehead brought no clarity to her recollections. + +"I've forgotten, Miss Barlow. I know it was the hot summer time, but +forenoon or afternoon, that's all gone from me now." + +"But you will try to bring it back, Bertha? It may be important. Mr. +Shagarach is a wonderfully wise man who could build up a great +explanation out of a little thing like that. You will tell him all you +know if he comes to see you?" + +"I'll be as free-spoken as I choose, and forty inspectors won't stop +me." + +"Could you describe the study again, Bertha, just as it looked when you +were dusting it, with Robert standing over the hearth?" + +"Why, you know the room, Miss Barlow--square, high-studded, with two +windows, the professor's desk at one and the bird cage before the other. +Shelves and books all round, hundreds of them, and magazines and papers +scattered about. Chairs, pictures, the safe and the professor's things +just as he left them--his slippers on the floor, his spectacles and +bible on the desk, his dressing-gown over the back of the arm-chair----" + +"And a waste-basket?" + +"Oh, yes, the big waste-basket always beside his desk. The professor had +so much writing to do." + +"Was it full?" + +"All full of black wrapping paper that came off of his books. The +professor got so many books." + +"And his safe with the papers in it?" + +"Nobody ever touched it but the professor. At least, I never meddled +with it." + +Emily noticed the emphasis Bertha laid on the first person, but an +unwelcome interruption prevented further disclosures. + +The knoll which Bertha and Sire had descended made a grade like the +pitch of an old gable roof. Toward the top a tempting tussock of clover +lay in sight, scenting the atmosphere and titillating the nostrils of +the horse attached to Farmer Griggs' hay-cart. Dobbin was ordinarily a +staid and trustworthy animal, who might be left alone for hours; but on +this occasion his carnal appetite overmastered his sense of duty and led +him gradually higher and higher up the grade toward the odorous herbage. +The first hint the two girls had of the peril which was imminent was +when they heard the voice of the farmer shouting from the barn. + +Turning in that direction, they beheld him running toward them, hat in +hand, as if racing for a guerdon, and brandishing a pitchfork. Whether +they or some one else were the object of his outcries they could not in +the confusion of the moment determine. But the doubt was speedily +settled by the occurrence of the very catastrophe which Farmer Griggs +was hastening to avert. + +Dobbin had just climbed within reach and was relishing the first morsel +of his stolen supper, when suddenly the top of the hay load, which was +tipped up to an exceedingly steep angle by his ascent of the knoll, slid +down like a glacier and deposited itself at the feet of the startled +girls. + +But this was not all. From the midst of it the figure of a man, badly +shaken but unhurt, arose and straightened itself out. + +Both girls gave a shriek in unison. Emily recognized, to her +astonishment and dismay, the face of her train companion, the supposed +Bill Dobbs. But Bertha's surprise was quickly converted into merriment. + +"Why, Mr. McCausland, what a tumble!" she laughed, just as Farmer Griggs +arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +REPORTING TO HEADQUARTERS. + + +"McCausland!" + +Emily bit off the exclamation just a moment too late. This, then, was +the interesting convict who had tried to worm himself into Robert's +confidence. This was Shagarach's vaunted opponent, the evil genius +arrayed against the good, in mortal combat for her sweetheart's life. +With Sire worrying his heels, Bertha holding her side in unchecked +laughter, and Emily eying him with an expression of amazement gradually +turning to scorn, the detective looked for a moment as if he would have +resigned his whole reputation to be elsewhere. But suddenly he righted +himself and led the horse around to the road, snatched Griggs' pitchfork +and was tossing the spilled hay back into place before the fuming farmer +realized what he was about. + +"This is Miss Barlow," said Bertha. "But I suppose you don't need an +introduction." + +"We were fellow-passengers on the train coming down." + +"Don't tell me, after that, we servants are the only keyhole listeners." + +"Mr. McCausland makes eavesdropping a science," added Emily, who was not +at all disposed to spare him. + +"There!" + +The inspector had finished his task. As the old farmer led his recovered +property back to the barn he never relaxed his hold on the bridle and +vented his wrath all the way on the offending beast. When he had +disappeared inside his barn, they could still hear him scolding. + +"Tarnal idiot! Yer fool, yer! I'll shorten yer fodder for yer! I'll +teach yer to stand! Woa!" + +"Eavesdropping! What nonsense!" said McCausland, smiling. Shorn of its +mustache his face looked more ferret-like than ever and one could excuse +Tristram March's estimate of its owner's villainy. "I had to leave +Hillsborough on the 6:21, and natural impatience led me to follow the +lazy girl who went after the cream for my supper." + +"It took you a long time to make up that fib," retorted Bertha, but she +took the hint and went over to the farmhouse to fill her pitcher. + +"Perhaps you will join me at lunch, Miss Barlow. You may be taking the +same train and I shall have the pleasure of your company to the station +in Mrs. Arnold's carriage." + +"No, I thank you. I will not trouble Mrs. Arnold either for lunch or for +the carriage." + +"Or, Mr. McCausland?" + +"Or Mr. McCausland." + +Emily spoke in a tone which was meant to convey that there were too many +unforgiven injuries between them to permit her to accept favors from +either of them. She looked at her watch. It was 5:30. + +"There is no other conveyance from here and the station is three miles," +urged the inspector, with good humor. + +"I can walk there in an hour." + +"You must have walked a part of the way from Elmwood." + +"Please do not press me, Mr. McCausland." + +He muttered something about "spunk" as he looked after the girl's slight +figure retreating. Then he gallantly relieved Bertha of her foaming +pitcher and sauntered with her back to the Arnold mansion. + +When Emily reached the Hillsborough station she was indeed a footsore +girl, fully convinced that country miles are as indefinite as nautical +knots, but in the few moments she had to spare before the train came by +she purchased a lunch of fruit, which refreshed her a little. Before +they were well out of the station Inspector McCausland came up and asked +permission to occupy the seat at her side. + +During her walk Emily had come around to a gentler view of the +detective's behavior. She could not look back on the afternoon's events +without a certain complacency. For the true aspect of the case against +Robert, as a grand chess duel between the criminal lawyer and the +detective, was gradually dawning upon her, and surely in the discovery +of Bertha's hiding-place and the unmasking of Bill Dobbs, white, her +champion, had gained two positive advantages over black, the enemy's +color. Besides, loyal as she was to her sweetheart, with that singleness +of heart which we sometimes call womanly prejudice, there was a genial +persistency in McCausland few could resist. So she forbore to fire upon +his flag of truce and assented to the request. + +They talked for the most part of irrelevant matters, and she herself did +not like to broach the subject of all subjects. Only once did he appear +to glance at his official relation to her. + +"The fisherman, Miss Barlow, doesn't enjoy the death struggles of the +mackerel in his nets," he said. "But he is obliged to see that they do +not escape." + +"Then you do disagreeable work from a sense of public duty?" + +"And for the support of my family," he added. "But as we've arrived at +the city perhaps I'd better return these now." + +So saying, he laid Emily's watch, pocketbook and brooch in her lap. +Dumfounded, she felt of her bodice, where these articles should be. The +neck-clasp was missing, the watch-pocket empty. McCausland had picked +her pockets while they were conversing. + +"Set a thief to catch a thief," said the detective, still smiling, but +raising his hat with respect. Emily smiled herself, less at the prank he +had played than because she thought she had good reasons to be cheerful. +But she did not communicate them to Richard McCausland, alias William +Dobbs. + +It happened that her course through town took her by Shagarach's office. +It was nearly 7:30, but there was a light in his window still, and an +impulse seized her to convey the glad tidings of her successful journey +to the lawyer. So she picked her way across the street and tripped +light-heartedly up the stairs. + +"You bring good news, Miss Barlow," said Shagarach, a little heavily. He +was standing at the window with his hands in his pockets and his back +turned, but there was power in his very carelessness. If he could not +pick pockets he could master men. + +"How could you know?" she asked. + +"I simply heard you coming. There is mood in a footstep," he answered, +facing her and offering a chair, while he sat himself at the table with +his arms folded expectantly. Through the open window where he had been +standing Emily felt the cool evening air, dim with dew it held in +suspension; and far away the hill-built capitol of the city, printed +darkly against the blood-orange sunset, seemed lifted into the uppermost +heavens, at an immeasurable height from earth. Had this been the object +of Shagarach's contemplation? + +"What is the result?" + +"Bertha is found again." + +"At Arnold's?" + +"At Arnold's." + +Knowing his taste for brevity, she condensed the story of her day's +wanderings, not omitting, however, the incidents which seemed to connect +McCausland with the pretended English cracksman. + +Toward the end of the narrative she perceived an unwonted wandering of +attention in her listener. A trio of street minstrels, with flute, +violin and harp, had set up a passionate Spanish dance tune, just far +enough away to afford that confused blending of harmonies which adds so +much to the effect of carelessly rendered music. Shagarach's eyes had +left Emily's face and strayed toward the window. Twice he had asked her +to repeat, as though he were catching up a lost thread. At last he arose +abruptly and shut down the sash, muffling the minstrelsy at the height +of its wildest abandon. + +"Our street troubadours distract you?" asked Emily. + +"The violinist is a gypsy," said the lawyer, shutting his eyes. Emily +remembered this saying afterward, and even now she began to understand +why a certain compassion, mingled with the fear and admiration which +this man so gifted, but so meanly surrounded, aroused. + +"That is all?" he said. She thought it amounted to a good deal. "I fear +Miss Barlow may not descend the stairs as gayly as she mounted them." + +"What have I done? How have I blundered?" she asked herself. + +"To have caught McCausland napping was a pleasant diversion, but of +little practical value. He is merely playing the nest-egg game." + +"The nest-egg game?" + +"Dressing up as a convict, locating himself in the adjoining cell and +confessing some enormity himself so as to induce his bird to lay. The +trick has an excellent basis in psychology, since the second law of life +is to imitate." + +"And the first?" + +"To devour. You think that crude?" he added, noting Emily's look. "Ah, +fact is crude, and we must never shirk fact. But since Floyd is innocent +it could have availed McCausland little to continue his harmless efforts +to wheedle a confession out of him--which I presume you will now +interrupt." + +"Not necessarily," answered Emily, who would by no means be sorry to +prolong the joke at the expense of the subtle inspector. + +"But that our discovery of Bertha's hiding-place should be known to +McCausland is a little unfortunate. She may be removed at once, this +time beyond our reach." + +"Is he so suspicious a man?" + +"When fighting wealth." + +"But we are not rich." + +"You forget the $5,000,000 and McCausland's point of view." + +Emily colored slightly. This was the bitter fruit of her wasted +afternoon, her six miles' walk, her long fast. But she kept these things +to herself. And Shagarach did not look at all perturbed. John Davidson +had told her that he was accounted by some a trifle slack in the +preparation of his matter, trusting overmuch to his power in the +cross-examination to bring out the truth. His record, however, showed +that he did not overrate his own skill. As certain clever exhibitors, +blindfolded, will take the arm of a reluctant guide, and, by noting his +resistances, compel him to lead them to some article in hiding, so +Shagarach followed the windings and subterfuges of unwilling testimony, +bringing witnesses at last face to face with the truth they had striven +to conceal. + +"Our cause has assumed a novel aspect," said the lawyer, opening a +drawer and producing three or four letters. "I am the victim of an +anonymous correspondent." + +Emily glanced at the envelopes. Their penmanship appeared to be that of +an illiterate person, the "Shagarach" in particular bearing a strong +resemblance to the four priceless if illegible autographs which are the +only relics left us bearing the immediate personal impress of the man of +Stratford. + +"The earlier epistles merely threaten me with death in its least +desirable forms if I do not surrender my brief for Robert Floyd. The +writer appears to cherish a grievance against your friend. Had he any +enemies?" + +"Not that I know of." + +"Very well. It appears I was to suffer martyrdom for his sake. Today's +mail, however, discloses a change of policy. The handwriting is the +same, but sloped backward to disguise it." + +He passed a letter over so that Emily might read the wretched scrawl. + + "Dear Mr. Shagarach: I mean to let you know that I have discovered + a important klew which will save your cliant. Pleeze be at the + bridge, the Pere leading over to the island Fort, at 8 o'clock (8 + P. M.) sharp To-morrow, and I mean to let you know my klew for + nothing. If you do not cum, yore life is not worth living. You will + be torn into on site." + +A rude skull and crossbones was figured in place of a signature. + +"Don't you think the writer's brain has a flaw in it?" asked Emily. + +"Possibly. There is something not entirely consistent in the promise to +rend me in two if I do not accept his assistance." + +"Or hers?" + +"You do not recognize the handwriting?" + +"It might be that of any very ignorant person. There is almost no style +or character." + +"Rather masculine. It may be some irresponsible being, as you say. But +there is a singular accent of sincerity in the earlier letters; a +genuine hatred of Floyd." + +"You will not venture to the meeting-place at that hour?" + +"I hardly fear Mr. Skull-and-Crossbones." + +Shagarach drew a delicate revolver from his lowest drawer. It lay like a +toy in his small white palm, but Emily could not repress a shudder. + +"You do not value my advice. You ask it, but you will not follow it?" + +"The chance of seeing and studying my correspondent is too good to be +lost." + +"Do you really read minds, Mr. Shagarach?" asked Emily. + +"Not in the charlatan's sense, certainly not. But the dominant thought +in every man's soul--self, money, pleasure, fame--is written plainly on +his face. The trained psychologist can predict much from a photograph." + +Eight! The ringing bells recalled Emily to thoughts of home. Almost +simultaneously a knock on the door ushered in a visitor, who proved to +be Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. The opium-eater was feathered in peacock +fashion this evening, but no brilliancy of plumage could offset the +undervitalized appearance of his tenuous form and sallow cheeks. He +started on recognizing Emily and appeared confused, but lifted his hat +with a sweep meant to be grandly courteous. + +"I beg pardon. Shall I be so fortunate as to have the privilege of an +introduction?" + +"I was just about to leave," said Emily, passing him without a glance. +"Good-evening, Mr. Shagarach." + +"Good-evening." + +Shagarach attended her to the door with the deference he habitually +showed, and she felt his strong presence like a zone of protection +thrown around her. + +"You are punctual, Kennedy," said Shagarach, returning to the newcomer. +He had clicked his desk to and donned a hat and coat while the other was +drawling out an answer. + +"The Dove-Cote is just about on." + +Meanwhile Emily, as Shagarach predicted, had descended the stairs much +more doubtfully than she had mounted them. But she clung to her woman's +faith that even the interrupted conversation with Bertha might yield +items which would germinate at a later stage; and, empty though it were, +her victory over the great McCausland was one of those successes which +give cheer to a young campaigner. + +Sustained by these hopes, she rode home at last and related the whole +story of her day's adventures and misadventures to her wondering mother +over the supper that had been cold for two hours. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +INSIDE THE DOVE-COTE. + + +"Here we are!" cried Kennedy. + +The sudden flood of light dazzled Shagarach's eyes. Glittering +chandeliers threw prismatic reflections upon the twenty or thirty +occupants of the room, many of them in full evening dress, like his +escort, and several adding the sparkle of diamonds to the iridescence of +mirrors and cut glass around them. Across one corner stretched an +arc-shaped bar, from which two colored waiters served liquors to the +patrons, while others at intervals disappeared behind curtains and +reappeared balancing platters of light delicious viands for the men who +chatted at the tables. These were octagon-topped and covered with plush. +The carpeted floor yielded like turf to the feet. The conversation ran +low. The servants whispered their requests and answers. It was an +atmosphere of stealth and suppression. + +The getting there had been a story in two brief chapters. This palace of +fortune owed its name to its location on the uppermost floor of one of +those tall, slender structures, like dominoes set on end, which +illustrate the reaching upward for space in our cities when horizontal +expansion becomes no longer possible. It fronted on a blind passageway +in the heart of the hotel district. Its proprietor was a jovial +man-about-town, rather prone than averse to the society of police +captains. On the ground floor a commercial agency conducted its business +quietly. Tailors rented the second and third flights, but the fourth +story was always unoccupied and never advertised for hire. Applicants +covetous of its advantages were frightened away by the rental asked. It +was at the head of the stairs leading from this landing up that Kennedy +had pressed the three white bell buttons in the massive door. + +The door immediately swung open, and the pair found themselves in front +of a second door, similar to the first except that the opaque panels +were replaced by glass. Through these the stairs could be seen beyond. +Kennedy repeated his signal, this time, however, reversing the order and +beginning with the lowest knob. A slide opened at the head of the +stairs, and the two men were the object of scrutiny for awhile. +Shagarach's sponsor was evidently persona grata to the sentinel, for the +second door now swung in and they were free to mount the stairs. + +"Sure it's true-blue, Kennedy?" said the sentinel, when they passed him. + +"Sure," answered the manikin, but his smirk was forced. "Wine, Sambo." + +Kennedy began breaking the ice in this manner for his companion. + +"Not a life-long votary of the fickle goddess, I should judge," remarked +a man introduced as Mr. Faught. + +"This is my initiation into her mysterious rites," answered Shagarach, +sweeping the room for Harry Arnold. + +"Ah, then, it is not too late for you to withdraw. The ceremonies are +trying. I myself am only a neophyte of low degree. Perhaps, being a +student of character, you have observed as much from my appearance?" + +"I should have known that you had not lost a fortune this evening, at +least." + +"There is one simple rule to escape that." + +"Not to bring one here?" + +"Precisely." + +Shagarach had indeed been contrasting Faught with the other habitues, +most of them men of fashion, still young in years, but middle-aged in +the lines of their faces. Several beardless youths appeared to be +college students. Two or three wore the style of confidential +bookkeepers or bank cashiers. As many more were flush-faced veterans, +with wrinkled pouches under their worldly eyes and gray mustaches of +knowing twist. Against such a gathering, smiling, but irritable withal +underneath from the nervous tension, the large man of bland visage and +ironical phrase certainly struck a discordant note. + +"Come to the altar and I will explain our ritual." + +They moved toward the table in the middle of the room, which was the +center of all interest. If men appeared to be chatting absently in a +corner, their heads were constantly swiveled this way, their ears caught +the announcement of every result. + +"None of that, Perley. It was on Stuart's spot," cried a harsh voice +from behind the table. + +"The needle was on the line," protested Perley, reckless-looking and +sadly young. "I say, the needle was on the line, Reddy." + +He had missed the prize by a hair. Perhaps the bill he had laid down for +this turn was his last. But a friend led him away, still muttering, by +the arm, and the gap in the circle which his removal made was quickly +closed. The man called Reddy gathered the pile of bills together, +separated a small portion, which he swept into the till, and passed the +remainder to Stuart. + +"Reddy runs things," whispered Faught, not so low but that the +bank-tender heard and looked the newcomer over suspiciously. "Comes from +the west, a desperado. Just the man to keep them down." + +"The bad blood breaks out sometimes?" + +"Would if there wasn't a strong hand at the needle." + +There was certainly nothing weak about Reddy. He sprawled sidewise in +his chair, with his left elbow on the table and his right arm free for a +variety of uses--a big-boned ruffian with a sandy face and an eye +apparently riveted on the disk before him, but really sweeping in the +whole compass of the room. Overhanging eyebrows veiled these furtive +glances. As a rule he spoke quietly, in a sepulchral bass, warning the +players to adjust their stakes more evenly on the spots, or announcing +the winners of the prizes. The recent jar with Perley was something +uncommon in the mute and decorous chamber over which Reddy presided. + +"It's a new game--roletto; simple as odd or even," explained Faught. +"The circle is segmented off into black and white rays, or spots, as we +call them----" + +"And red?" + +"Those are used, too. You see, they are numbered like the others. But +they are specially colored for the game with the bank. In the ordinary +game some one proposes a stake and puts it down on its lucky number. +Then the rest follow suit. Would you like to try this round? It's only a +$10 trick." + +"Very well." + +Shagarach laid his stake down on one of the spaces. + +"That starts it. See them join in. Twenty-four spaces, black and white, +and twenty-three filled. My ten spot quits it out. Now thank your stars +if you see that bill again." + +The gamblers stood near while Reddy reached toward the needle. A squad +of grenadiers at attention would not be more rigid. They were frozen +with suspense. But something paralyzed Reddy's wrist. He had caught the +full glance of Shagarach. It was several seconds before he twisted the +pointer. For several more it spun around, gradually slowing up and +coming to a rest over Shagarach's number. + +"Twenty!" called Reddy. + +"Mine!" + +Shagarach coolly smoothed out the bills and folded them in his pocket, +while the unsuccessful players eyed him greedily. Eleven-twelfths of the +stakes went to the winner, and 2,000 per cent would be considered a fair +profit in any speculation. But the return to the bank was still more +liberal, being the steady harvest of two-spots. It was easy to see how +the luxuries and free accessories of the Dove-Cote could be provided. + +"Try again," said Faught, shaking Shagarach's hand. + +"Perhaps that is enough for an experiment," answered the lawyer, a +little undecided still whether Faught were a decoy of the establishment. + +"A hundred dollars even I come out whole to-night!" cried a voice at the +door. It was Harry Arnold. + +"A little quieter, gentlemen," said Reddy, tapping on his desk. "This +isn't the stock exchange." + +"It's a more respectable place," answered Harry, surrendering his wraps +to a servant. + +"I take you," said several, picking up the gantlet he had thrown down. +Faught had spoken first and Kennedy was chosen stake-holder. Shagarach, +meanwhile, had retired to a table in the corner and ordered some wine. + +"One thousand to ten I break the bank," called Harry as loudly as +before. + +"I will debar any man who uses that tone again," said Reddy, never +moving a muscle. His eyes were as cold and steady as the barrels of two +Derringers in the hands of a Texan train robber, and the young bravo, +though his lip curled, did not reply. His second bet was taken and the +game resumed amid its former silence. + +The losers repaired to the sideboard now and then and renewed their +courage with stimulants, but one or two who called for brandy were told +that no strong liquors were allowed. The little outbreak over Perley's +protest showed the wisdom of this rule. Harry Arnold's purse seemed to +be well lined to-night, for he led the play higher and higher. + +Shagarach held his wineglass toward the chandelier, so as to shield a +searching glance at the young man's face. Under the artificial light it +was brilliantly beautiful, the face of a man who could say to almost any +woman "Come" and she would follow him to the ends of the earth. + +"Do you know young Arnold?" asked Faught of Shagarach, who had just +lowered his wineglass. He began to take some notice of this large, quiet +man, who, all unobserved, was making the rounds of the room. + +"By sight," he answered, suppressing a yawn. "You took his bet, I +noticed?" + +"Only a hundred, and as good as mine already. He's bucking the reds." + +"Gad, Harry, you have nerve," Kennedy's pipe was heard exclaiming. + +"I see you don't understand," continued Faught. "There are four red +spots, you remember. Ordinarily these are not used. In the common game +it is impossible for the bank to lose, though one of the players may +win." + +He smiled in allusion to Shagarach's maiden try. + +"But sometimes the bank condescends to take a risk. Then the stakes are +high. Each player lays a thousand opposite one of the four reds. If the +needle stops over white or black, Reddy scoops the pot. But if it favors +a red the man on the spot opposite gets $5,000 from the bank and the +others quit whole. You see it's perfectly fair. Twenty blacks and whites +and four reds, that makes the odds five to one against the players. So +the bank, if red wins, quintuples the stakes all round." + +"But the bank twists the needle," said Shagarach. + +"Oh, that's all open and above board." + +"Do you see Reddy looking down?" + +"He is watching the checker board." + +"Why not a mirror under the table?" + +"What would it show?" + +"Two slender bar magnets crossed under the disk. His foot can rotate +them so as to underlie any four of the spots; and the needle is of +steel." Faught opened his eyes. + +"Bravo!" an exclamation burst from the crowd. + +"That's number one," Harry Arnold was heard exulting. Followed by +Kennedy and the taker of his second bet, he crossed over to the bar. + +"Has Arnold set the place on fire?" asked Shagarach. It was said during +a pause of the hum and he raised his voice. In one of the facets of his +wineglass he saw Harry, who had just passed him, start and turn, but it +was impossible to tell whether the expression of his face had altered. +Certainly it was no more than a glance and he took no notice of +Shagarach. The lawyer's low stature diminished at a distance the effect +of his splendid head and eyes, which were so powerful at short range. On +the present occasion, if disguise were at all his purpose, this +insignificance was useful. + +"He has beaten the bank," said Faught. + +"A Pyrrhic victory," answered Shagarach, "and a Parthian flight." His +companion rose and sauntered behind Reddy, but either the mirror was +hidden or the bank-tender was too wary to be caught. Suddenly his harsh +voice was heard again. + +"Put that down, Perley." + +Every one looked in the direction of the youthful gambler, who had been +the center of the dispute when Shagarach and Kennedy entered. He had +brooded moodily since his loss, sitting alone at a corner table, and was +just raising a revolver to his temple when Reddy's command checked and +bewildered him. Instantly Harry Arnold, who was nearest, wrenched his +wrist and some one else secured the weapon. Perley writhed like a +madman, so that it took several minutes to quiet him. When at last his +contortions were helpless his spirit seemed to give suddenly and he +burst into tears. + +Shagarach felt a deep pity in his breast. The youth looked weak rather +than wicked. Possibly others, whom he loved, would suffer by his +recklessness this night. An aversion to the whole tinseled exterior, +gilding over soul-destroying corruption, came upon him and he longed +for the sight of something wholesome and pure--if only a basketful of +speckled eggs or a clothes-press hung with newly lavendered linen. But +his purpose in coming was still unfulfilled, so he merely stopped the +youth as he was passing out in dejection, accompanied by a friend. + +"I was luckier than you," he said, taking out the roll of bills he had +won. "Will you accept my first winnings as a loan?" + +Perley halted irresolutely. + +"They amount to $200 or so. You may have them on one condition." + +"What is it?" + +"That you go immediately home." + +"I will," said Perley. + +From now on the play became more and more exciting, as the champagne +began to work in the veins of the gamblers. Once again Harry Arnold won, +then lost and lost again. Still he laid down bill after bill from a +bulky roll, sometimes leading at the simple game, oftener challenging +the bank. As luck turned against him (if luck it were) his temper +changed. He grew hilarious, but at the same time savage. Once or twice +his differences with Reddy promised to culminate in a serious quarrel, +but each time the coolness of the experienced bank-tender prevailed. +Shagarach paid no attention to Kennedy, little to Faught. He was +studying the soul of Prince Charming. + +When Harry came over and demanded brandy and struck the bar with his +clenched fist because he could not have it, every one knew that his wad +of crisp bills had shrunken to almost nothing. But still he would not +surrender. + +"The whole pile," he cried, laying the roll down opposite a red spot. It +was the same one he had played all the evening. Reddy counted the money +coolly. + +"A thousand is all we go," he said, returning one bill to Arnold--the +last poor remnant of Rabofsky's loan. + +"I challenge you to play higher. I dare you to give me my revenge." + +"There's only a hundred over and you'll need more than that to settle +your outside bets with," answered Reddy, as if victory for the bank were +a foregone conclusion. Three others, carried away by the force of play, +put down stakes of $1,000 each and all of the reds were covered. Reddy +snapped the needle with his forefinger as carelessly as a schoolboy +twirling a card on a pin. Four necks craned over, four lungs ceased to +draw breath, while it slowly, slowly paused. + +"Mine!" exulted Harry, stretching forth his hand; but Reddy intercepted +it. + +"The bank!" he growled. + +"It's on the line," said Harry, flushing. + +"By the rules I am judge, and I say the bank!" Reddy lowered his voice +to its most sepulchral register, while Harry raised his to a shriek. + +"Between man and man, but not between a player and the bank. I leave it +to these gentlemen if it wasn't on the line." + +"Always," answered Reddy. He snapped the needle again. Whether the +bar-magnets below had been carelessly adjusted, whether the pointer had +really rested over the line, that was a matter upon which arbitration +was now rendered forever impossible. Then he reached for the money. + +"You swindler!" shrieked Harry, striking at his face across the table. +Instantly Reddy's right hand, the free hand, opened a drawer and +presented a cocked revolver. His finger was on the trigger to pull, when +Shagarach gave the shout of warning. + +"Spies!" he cried. It was a word to strike terror. Perhaps it saved +Harry's life. + +During the confusion, observed of none but Shagarach, a whistle had been +heard from the outside, and the quiet man, Faught, had passed over to +one of the windows. There were only two, and these were protected by +iron shutters, which closed with a latch. The first sound heard was +Faught lifting the latch and throwing the shutters apart. A uniformed +man dropped into the room, followed by another and another. Faught +rushed behind Reddy and the second window was soon opened. All the +officers carried lanterns and clubs. + +"The first man who moves his little finger dies," said the foremost of +the invaders, advancing. His tone was easy and his pistol covered Reddy. +The whole room looked toward the desperado as if expecting him to do +something. He turned his revolver's muzzle quickly as if from Arnold to +the officer, but instantly his right hand was knocked up by Faught. With +his left he pressed an electric button for some daring purpose. Then the +pistol shot rang out, a moment too late, and the room was in total +darkness. + +The slides of the officer's lanterns, however, were opened at once, and +in a jiffy the door was guarded. Through the yellowish light Shagarach +could see tussling groups and hear cries of anger and pain. He himself +was seized and handcuffed. Presently the uproar quieted down and the +voice of the spokesman was heard ordering one of the negroes to light +up. + +But it was a different sight that met Shagarach's eye when the +chandeliers blazed again. The roletto table had disappeared, probably +carried downstairs by a trapdoor at Reddy's touch of the button. This +was the use for which the vacant fourth story was reserved. All around +among the smaller tables the gamblers stood like lambs, trembling and +pale in the grip of the law. In the middle of the floor lay Reddy, the +blood bubbling from a pea-sized hole that divided his left eyebrow and +gathering in a thick pool on the carpet. McCausland's bullet had flown +true to its target. + +Only one of the gamblers was missing. + +"He must have climbed out of the window," said Shagarach, sotto voce. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +LEX REX. + + +Stupefaction is a weak word to express the feelings of Saul Aronson when +a messenger awakened him at 1 o'clock Thursday morning with a request +from Shagarach that he would come to police station No. 5 at once. The +attorney's assistant was never a sluggard, but the celerity with which +on this occasion he scrambled into his street clothes would have done +credit to a lightning-change artist. + +The police captain received him courteously, explaining, as he conducted +him to Shagarach's cell, his hesitancy about discharging the lawyer +without permission from McCausland, who had maliciously disappeared. +Both he and Shagarach were agreed that the most judicious course was to +accept a temporary release on bail, and later to secure a quashing of +the charge by an explanation to the district attorney. So Aronson set +out again to secure bail, and at 4 o'clock had the joy of seeing his +master pass down the station steps with his bondsman. + +It was fortunate that the affair turned out so well, for the very next +day had been set down for the hearing in the Probate court on the +settlement of Benjamin Arnold's estate. + +Hodgkins Hodgkins, Esq., flanked by the other two members of the firm of +Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins--namely, his brother and his nephew--was +already on his feet to address the court when Shagarach, as +representative of Robert Floyd's interest, arrived and pushed to the +front. Except for the fact that he was Prof. Arnold's oldest +acquaintance in the city, it was hard to understand the selection of +Hodgkins for the responsible position of executor over a property of +$10,000,000. + +A tall, withered specimen of nearly 70, thin-whiskered and jejune of +speech, you would have looked instinctively for the green bag at his +side if you had met him on the street. "Whereas" and "aforesaid" and a +dozen other legal barbarisms disfigured his rhetoric and the trick of +buttoning his coat with an important air over documents mysteriously +shuffled into his breast pocket was as natural to him as crossed legs to +a tailor. + +But all this pomp, ridiculous as it was, gave no promise of the +disloyalty that was to follow. From the first words of his address it +became evident that Hodgkins Hodgkins, Esq., was there not to execute +the will of his friend but to oppose its execution. Like many another +intrusted with the same office, he had transferred his allegiance from +the forgotten dead to the living who had bounty to bestow. Mrs. Arnold, +sitting among the spectators, alone, might well congratulate herself +upon a clever stroke in engaging the services of the quondam executor +for her son. + +"As counsel for the petitioner, Mr. Harry Arnold," said Hodgkins, +ahemming huskily, "I desire to explain to the court briefly my relation +to the case. As your honor has been informed, I enjoyed the privilege of +the testator's--or, more properly, the intestate's--acquaintance during +a period of nearly fifty years. During that period nothing, I believe, +ever occurred to mar our mutual trust and confidence. Up to six weeks +ago the deceased had never expressed any desire to alter the natural +distribution of his property after his death. Up to that time, although +approaching his seventy-ninth birthday, my honored friend had been +entirely satisfied, entirely satisfied, I repeat, with the prospects of +a division of his estate according to the laws of descent in this +commonwealth." + +"A statement which we deny," broke in Shagarach, sotto voce. Hodgkins +was a little nonplussed. + +"Am I to understand that Brother Shagarach, representing, I presume, +the interests of the other nephew, refers to some previously existing +testament?" + +"Not at all. I refer, your honor, to oral expressions of an intention to +will his entire property to the nephew who lived with him, Mr. Robert +Floyd." + +"There was a will drawn, which is not extant, I believe?" inquired the +judge. + +"There was a will drawn," answered Shagarach, "but since unfortunately +destroyed, by which Floyd was disinherited." + +"I opine, then"--Mr. Hodgkins frequently opined--"that Brother Shagarach +concedes the destruction of the document and is here----" + +"To argue for its upholding." + +The whole firm of Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins looked as if a +thunderbolt had struck them at this announcement. Shagarach was throwing +away Robert's share, amounting to $5,000,000. + +"We were not aware of this intention," said the senior member, after a +consultation, "and as to the alleged oral expressions of a purpose to +leave the--the accused nephew sole legatee--er--er in any case we should +have contested such a will on the ground of undue influence. Six weeks +ago," Hodgkins was now frowning as formidably as possible, "I received a +letter from my honored friend, informing me that he had made a will and +requesting me to assume the function of sole executor--a request which I +felt it a duty, as well as an honor, to accept." + +"May I see the testator's letter?" said Shagarach, breaking in. + +"I trust the court will accept my assurance----" + +"It is no question of your word. I desire to see the terms of your +appointment as executor, and request that the letter be read." + +"As the first step toward establishing the existence of a will," said +the judge, "upon which, I believe, both parties, all parties"--there +were several other lawyers present--"are agreed----" + +Hodgkins and Shagarach bowed. + +"The letter had best be read in evidence." + +There was a great diving into green bags for awhile among the Hodgkins +firm, at the end of which the senior member read the following letter: + + "Friend Hodgkins: You are the only one of your cursed tribe to whom + I ever got nearer than swearing distance, and our intimacy began + before you were admitted to the vulpine crew. Here I am, a + youngster of 78, anticipating death by thirty years at least and + indulging in the folly of will-making. Can you conceive anything + more absurd? I might as well think of getting insured so early in + life. But I was always excessively cautious, you know--hence my + odium advocatorum, I suppose. Can you superintend the job? Most of + my hoard goes elsewhere, but there will be some for the executor to + distribute, and you will find legal pickings in it that will pay + you. Write at once. + + "BENJAMIN ARNOLD." + +This eccentric epistle raised a smile among the lawyers, but Shagarach +was busily occupied drafting a verbatim copy while Hodgkins continued +his plea. + +"I was remarking," he repeated, one of his favorite introductory +formulae, "that upon receiving this request I made haste to indite a +favorable response, as I felt bound in duty and honor----" + +"And the prospect of pickings," added Shagarach, sotto voce, still +copying the letter. The senior member glared. + +"It is needless to relate the unfortunate circumstance, in which Brother +Shagarach's client is so deeply implicated, which has relieved me of +this welcome if laborious trust. The will under which I was to serve in +the capacity of executor has been destroyed--destroyed, presumably, by +the party whose hopes of a fortune is cut off, and we stand here to-day +facing the same status which existed up to six weeks ago. I say the +same--I am in error. There is an important, a melancholy difference. Six +weeks ago my friend's nephew was not an accused and all but a convicted +murderer." + +Hodgkins paused, as if expecting a rejoinder from Shagarach, but the +latter appeared profoundly absorbed in a telegram which Jacob had just +brought him. + +"The property now stands in no man's name. There is no person to whom +its dividends, its rents, its interest, constantly becoming due, can +safely be paid. Under the laws of descent its title vests equally in the +heirs-at-law, the nephews of the deceased. But there is need of an +administration, in order that the two shares may be apportioned in a +satisfactory manner. I need not again allude to the circumstance which +renders a joint administration improper and impossible, the circumstance +which explains the absence of Brother Shagarach's client----" + +"I do not see Brother Hodgkins' client in the courtroom," Shagarach +retorted to this sarcasm. As he spoke his eye fell on Mrs. Arnold's +haughty face. + +"It is certain, however, that he is not occupying a felon's cell," +answered Hodgkins. "Briefly, your honor, there is only one course open. +An administrator is urgently needed for this immense estate. In the +absence of a will, the heirs-at-law, being of age, would naturally be +selected, but under the circumstances I respectfully suggest that the +younger of the two nephews is debarred and that your honor's choice +should fall upon the elder, a college graduate, a young man who moves in +the highest social circles, and who has not, I believe, the honor of an +acquaintance with the inmates and turnkeys of the state prison." + +Hodgkins had hardly sat down after this acrid peroration when Shagarach +was on his feet. + +"I have only a few words to say at present. The case is by no means so +simple as my learned brother imagines. My learned brother assumes that +the physical destruction of the will has involved the extinction of its +contents. So mature an advocate does not need to be reminded that parol +proof of the contents of a will, of its accuracy in technical form, and +of its existence unrevoked at the time of the testator's death, are +equivalent in law to the presentation of the document itself. + +"We have in the court-room today a number of witnesses who will testify +to the contents of the will. We have the witnesses who signed it to +prove its compliance with statutory requirements as to form; and I do +not understand that Brother Hodgkins denies that the paper was in +existence until destroyed at the Arnold fire." + +"You object, then, to the issuance of administration papers to Mr. Harry +Arnold?" asked the judge. + +"Emphatically. We desire to uphold the will. Brother Hodgkins has +introduced evidence as to the making of a will in the letter which he +read. I should like to put in evidence now the testimony of the three +witnesses to the signature." + +When the three witnesses had sworn to Prof. Arnold's acknowledgment in +their presence of the will, to their own attestation of his signature, +and to the date, June 7, of these occurrences, another lawyer, who +appeared to act in concert with Shagarach, briefly announced his +guardianship of the interests of the heirs of Ellen Greeley, a legatee +in the sum of $1,000. After recounting the long and meritorious services +of the dead domestic, he called upon her sister to testify to several +conversations in which she had referred to the professor's generous +remembrance of her in his will. + +"It is proper to state at this point," said Shagarach, "that the other +servant, Bertha Lund, is not represented here by counsel, but there is +evidence to show that she was remembered in the same manner as her +colleague." + +Mrs. Christenson was thereupon called and deposed, exactly as Ellen +Greeley's sister had done, to the several conversations in which Bertha +had referred to her employer's liberality. + +"Until yesterday evening," said Shagarach, "Bertha Lund was employed in +the country house of Mrs. Arnold at Hillsborough. A telegram, however, +sent to the station-master at that place, brings the answer that Miss +Lund took the outward-bound train at 5:21 this morning, being alone and +accoutred with a large baggage trunk. I doubt, therefore, if this +important witness as to the contents of the will can readily be found." + +While he made this statement Shagarach searched Mrs. Arnold's face. Her +gaze shifted and she perceptibly whitened. Then the rise of still +another lawyer, also seeming to act in concert with Shagarach, drew +attention to the court. The new attorney represented, as he immediately +informed the judge, certain charitable institutions which had been +remembered under the clauses of the will--namely, the Duxborough +institution for the blind, of which the professor, who had himself been +operated on for cataract, had been throughout his life a conspicuous +supporter; the Woodlawn home for consumptives, the dipsomaniac hospital, +the Magdalen reformatory, the asylum for idiots and the Christian +orphanage. Letters were read from Prof. Arnold to the superintendents of +each of these institutions, requesting them to accept legacies of +$20,000 each under the will which he had just drawn. The letters were +couched in a stereotyped form and all dated alike. + +But the most significant testimony of the day was contained in the last +document which this attorney presented--a letter. + +"Dr. Silsby himself," he explained, "is detained from attendance at this +hearing by important scientific labors in the west." + +The mention of Dr. Jonas Silsby's name caused the eyebrows of the +Hodgkins firm to elevate themselves unanimously in a manner which +amusingly accented the facial resemblance of the members. Jonas Silsby +had been a pupil of Prof. Arnold and was at present the most +distinguished arboreal botanist in the country. Along with some of his +master's eccentricities, such as vegetarianism, he had imbibed much of +his independence and noble honor. He was, moreover, Robert Floyd's most +intimate friend, bridging, as it were, by the full vigor of his +fifty-odd years, the great gap of half a century which separated the +boyish nephew from his octogenarian uncle. + +Mrs. Arnold's quick smoothing with her finger of an imaginary loose +lock--the characteristic feminine gesture of embarrassment--did not +escape Shagarach's lustrous glance. The letter was worded as quaintly as +the other: + + "My Dear Jonas: Rob has gone back on me, God bless him, the rogue, + and you've got to take my dollars. I know you don't want them, but + I'm going to commit inverse larceny just the same. I'll grab you by + the throat and stuff your pockets with gold, though you bellow + like an ox. You know what it's all about. We've talked it over + often enough. And I want it called the 'Arnold academia,' too. If + agriculture stops going to the dogs in this country through the + preaching of the dons my hoard keeps in shoe leather, then I want + the credit of it for my ghost downstairs. It'll need some comfort, + Jonas. But don't suppose I dream of quitting you yet, my boy, and + don't expect all of the pudding I've baked. There will be some + plums for the asylums, and some for the servants, and Rob, the + young rogue, has got to be provided for, willy-nilly. This is only + a hint, but verbum sap. We'll talk it over when you come east + again, with your pouches full of seeds. Here's good luck to you, + Jonas. It is God's world, anyway, and not the devil's. Your old + friend, + + "BENJAMIN ARNOLD." + +"Dr. Silsby explains," added the lawyer, "that the allusion in the text +to an academia refers to a cherished project for elevating the position +of the American farmer. The idea was to establish a great agricultural +university. It had been a frequent subject of discussion between them, +and nothing could be more natural than that Dr. Silsby should be +selected as president of the institution." + +"And trustee of its funds," added Shagarach, looking at the senior +member of the bewildered firm of Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins. Then the +court adjourned for lunch. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +TWO STEPS FORWARD AND ONE TO THE REAR. + + +At the afternoon session Mrs. Arnold was found at her place, still +unaccompanied by her son. Five lawyers had already outlined their +standpoints to the judge, but still there were new complications in +store. Lawyer Howell was Shagarach's earliest opponent, the Goliath of +his first great duel. He contented himself with stating his intention to +attach Floyd's share of the property in behalf of the insurance +companies and proprietors who had suffered loss through the crime with +which he was charged. He was of opinion that the evidence offered to +uphold the will lacked particularity and was insufficient---- + +"Brother Howell is not here as associate justice." Shagarach was on his +feet in a flash. "His opinions are impertinences, too manifestly +dictated by his interests. Naturally the insurance companies and +burned-out proprietors desire to break this will, in order that Robert +Floyd may take the $5,000,000 which he does not want and they may join +the hue and cry of the other conspirators against an innocent man." + +Howell was protesting against such a suggestion, when he was interrupted +by a roar from one of the learned brethren who had been impatiently +waiting his turn. + +"I speak for the murdered girls," he cried, "whose pure young blood +stains the hands of that guilty monster, and in the name of their +bleeding corpses and young lives, ruthlessly done to death, I utter my +protest against the imputation of innocence to their slayer." + +The auditors, who had begun to drowse over the technical details of the +case, were stirred to attention at once by this declamatory opening. +Even Saul Aronson, sleepy from his restless night, checked a yawn midway +with his fingers and turned around. The new speaker was a middle-sized, +burly man, whose most conspicuous feature was a projection of the flesh +beneath the outer corners of his eyebrows, so as to bury the eyes and +give his whole face an expression almost Mongolian in its cunning. His +clothes were seedy, and his remarks punctuated by amber-colored shots at +the cuspidor. Altogether it was a decidedly rakish craft and the look on +Judge Dunder's face was by no means propitious. + +"It is an axiom of law," said the orator, waving his hand and executing +a demi-volt toward the spectators, "that no man can take advantage of +his own tort. I hereby accuse Robert Floyd of the murder of my +clients----" + +"Who are your clients?" interrupted the judge. + +"Mary and Florence Lacy, two virtuous maidens, the sunshine of a happy +home, the pride of a loving and admiring circle of friends"--just here +came one of the orator's punctuation points, which produced a sadly +antithetical effect--"the comforts of a bereaved mother's heart----" + +An old lady in the audience burst into tears. Presumably it was Mrs. +Lacy. This tribute to his eloquence warmed the orator to a mighty +outburst. + +"Woe, I say, to that ruthless hand! Perdition gripe that marble +heart----" + +"Will you kindly make your statements relevant?" The judge's manner was +arctic. "We are considering the disposition of Benjamin Arnold's +estate." + +"I beg to interpose." Hodgkins had seen a ray of hope in the utterances +of the last two speakers. Slack, the grandiloquent, was a bibulous +shyster, who made a precarious livelihood by imposing on just such +victims as Mrs. Lacy, but at this juncture he might prove a useful ally. +"Brother Slack is not unnaturally, I may say most creditably, carried +away by his feelings on behalf of his clients; and I, for one, heartily +join him in opposing the efforts which have been made here today to put +the means of redress for those--er--unhappy victims beyond their +reach--or, rather, to reduce them to a paltry $20,000." + +"Twenty thousand dollars!" shrieked Slack. "Who dares insult the +sanctity of human life by estimating its value at such a bagatelle. I +say not $20,000,000 would recompense that weeping mother for the loss of +the children of her bosom." + +With pointed finger he held up the grief of the now blushing and +embarrassed woman to the curious gaze of the crowd. Then, wearied of his +vulgarity, and confident of a case already complete, Shagarach rose and +immediately drew all eyes and ears. + +"Brother Slack has unwittingly uttered the strongest argument of the day +in favor of the request which I make--a request, be it understood, for +postponement only, until sufficient time elapses to permit the contents +of this will to be demonstrated. Brother Slack assumes the guilt of my +client in a criminal cause now pending. Brother Howell assumes it; +Brother Hodgkins, in asking you to exclude him from the +administratorship, also assumes it. This is a new doctrine of law, to +adjudge a man guilty without according him an opportunity for defense. I +ask your honor to consider the stigma which the choice of Harry Arnold +as sole administrator would cast upon Robert Floyd, and the prejudice it +would work him in the cause I have mentioned. + +"But, aside from this, I ask you to consider the chain of evidence +presented as to the will itself. Let us keep in mind that will is only +legalized wish. I am aware that great particularity is required in such +cases as ours. But when your honor reviews the statements of Martha +Greeley, of Mrs. Christenson, of the six superintendents of institutions +of charity, and of Dr. Silsby--yes, and I will add the letter to Brother +Hodgkins, who, it now appears, was to stand as executor only of that +small residue of the estate which did not go to the founding of the +Arnold academia--when your honor reviews these I am convinced that you +will agree that the disposition of this vast property is not a matter to +be hastily determined. + +"My brother has referred to the supposed advantage reaped by Floyd from +the destruction of the will. Floyd is not here to speak for himself, but +he has contended consistently that the reduction of his legacy to +$20,000 was made at his own request, and that even that small sum was in +excess of his wishes. Read as I read them, the expressions of endearment +in the letter to Dr. Silsby support this statement. They are not the +language of an irate testator, used in reference to a disinherited heir. +Allow me, moreover," Shagarach was now looking straight at Mrs. Arnold, +"to point out that Robert Floyd was not the only gainer by the +destruction of Prof. Arnold's will. What atom of evidence has been +adduced to show that the testator remembered Harry Arnold?" + +Mrs. Arnold started and reddened at the mention of her son's name. Then +she put her handkerchief to her lips and coughed nervously. Shagarach's +glance was just long enough to avoid attracting general attention toward +her. + +"For these reasons I ask that your honor schedule a second hearing of +this important cause, to take place after a complete survey of the +evidence shall have demonstrated that not Robert Floyd but another is +responsible for the death of Mary and Florence Lacy." + +Mrs. Arnold's trembling was painfully apparent, and there was nothing in +Hodgkins' feeble and desultory reply to give her hope. + +"I will take the matter under consideration," said Judge Dunder, when he +had closed, and Shagarach knew that a severe blow at Robert's +reputation, as well as a timely relief to the Arnold purse, had been +prevented by that morning's work. + +There were fewer clients than usual in the office when he returned. One +of them, a large man, immediately arose. + +"I am Patrolman Chandler," said he. + +"What can we do for each other?" + +"Not much, perhaps." The policeman drew an envelope from his pocket and +showed a lemon-colored glove inside. "Will that help you any?" + +"Perhaps. It has a story?" + +"A short one. That glove's been in my pocket ever since I was taken to +the hospital when the girl fell on me. Never thought of it; hardly knew +it was there. Had broken bones to think of, you know." + +"I read of your bravery at the fire." + +"Pshaw! Well, here's the history of that article. I know Floyd; have +known him ever since I took that route. Things look blue for the boy, +but I never heard harm of him before, and says I to myself, yesterday +when I found the glove, perhaps Mr. Shagarach can turn this to good +account, and perhaps he can't. It's worth trying, and if it saves +Floyd's neck, why, it's no more'n I'd like to have him do for me if our +positions were just right about." + +"That's the golden rule, stated in the vernacular. Where did you find +this?" + +"On the stairs in the Arnold house." + +"After the fire?" + +"When I went into the house at the beginning." + +"How was it lying?" + +"About the middle of the staircase, I believe." + +"A little to the left, with the fingers pointing to the door?" + +"Exactly--close to the wall." + +"It is a right-hand glove. He was carrying it in his left hand and +dropped it when running downstairs." Shagarach said this sotto voce, as +if to himself. + +"Who? Floyd?" + +"The incendiary." + +"I don't know that I ever saw young Floyd with gloves on except in +winter. Seems too loud for him anyway--more like some swell's." + +"You will leave this with me?" + +"Glad to, glad if it helps you," said the officer, rising to go. +Shagarach took his hand and thanked him, then tried on the glove and +studied it for fully five minutes before admitting his regular clients. +If it were Floyd's the case had neither gained nor lost. But he felt +that the kid was too fine, the make too fashionable, for the eccentric +young radical, who, as Chandler had noticed, never wore gloves except +for protection against the cold. There was no hint of identity about it. +Had it belonged to Harry Arnold? If so, how did it happen to lie on the +stairs of his uncle's house immediately after the fire? + + * * * * * + +The island fort was a many-angled specimen of ancient masonry, following +the shore line of an islet in the harbor. It was useless now. No flag +streamed from its pole. Passing vessels no longer saluted it, only a +lame old sergeant being about to protect the property. By an arrangement +with the local authorities it had been converted into a pleasure-ground +and connected with an adjacent peninsular of the city by a pier or +bridge of half a mile's length. This was the rendezvous mentioned by the +anonymous correspondent. + +When Shagarach stepped from the car on his way to meet Mr. +Skull-and-Crossbones he found that he was early. It still wanted twenty +minutes to the appointed hour. The humanity of the district was just +rising from its supper tables in teeming tenements to enjoy the cool +liberty of the twilight air, and Shagarach listened to the sayings of +the multitude whose current he found himself stemming. They were flowing +to an open-air concert at some point behind him. The correspondent had +timed his evening well for a lonely conference. + +As he approached the pier the crowd thinned and at last he found himself +walking near the water alone. Ships were putting into port, with red and +green caution lights hung aloft. The sea, now violet, melted into the +sky and a gathering dimness subdued everything to one tone. Only the +black tree-masses and the outlines of the houses stood out somberly +distinct. + +"We violate nature," said Shagarach to himself, "with our angular, +unsightly houses, but she puts her own fairer version on all at +last--mosses the manse, curves the beach, litters the ruin, bathes the +hard carpentry and mason work of the city with soft twilight balm." He +looked back upon the sad accumulation of misery, amid whose foulest reek +he was doomed to live. A greenish tint hung over it where the sunset had +sunk. It was a rare hue for the heavens to wear--something bizarre yet +beautiful, like yellow roses. + +Thus far Shagarach had walked alone. Leaning over the railing on the +right, he saw three boys fishing in a dory below. One of them was just +lighting a lantern, for the thick dusk had begun to gather. The +penetrating silence favored their occupation and he paused a moment to +watch the silver-bellied mackerel slapping their bodies in the basket. A +little farther on an oafish monster stood against the railing on the +left. Shagarach thought he leered mirthlessly when their eyes met. + +Then at the middle of the pier he came to a closed gate, shutting off +access to the island. + +"No admission to the fort after 7 p. m.----" He had started to read the +placard, when suddenly he felt himself seized from behind. A hand over +his mouth throttled the outcry he launched. It was too late to reach +for the revolver. A brief, fierce trial of strength and he found +himself forced over the railing into the water. The shock, to one who +had never entered the ocean before, was icy as death. + +His senses did not depart from him. He made an effort to lie still on +the surface and to hold his breath. A hideous face projected over the +railing, printed itself on his memory, and then disappeared. He knew +that he clutched his assailant's cap in his right hand, and that the +lights of the city were dancing before him as he rose and sunk. Then the +only thing he felt was the gurgling of the deep, dark water nearer, +nearer, nearer. How to fight it off? His hands wildly strove to push it +away. All the sweetness of the world he was leaving flashed through him +in one pregnant second, whereupon his resolution yielded. He opened his +lips to utter the fatal "Help!" of the drowning man, and the element +rushed in and made him its own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE BREWING STORM. + + +Friday was to be the last day of Warden Tapp's tenure, and Robert was +aware that the convicts had determined to celebrate his removal by some +demonstration of their joy. Everybody was dissatisfied with his +government--the public, his deputies, his charges, alike. Stalking about +with that inveterate preference for his own company which had won him +the nickname of "The Pelican," he gnawed his huge mustache in a manner +that seemed to betray that he was not oversatisfied with the results +himself. + +The prison which he had taken from his predecessor, as orderly as any +barracks the world over, he left to his successor (a military man) +slovenly, rebellious and tunneled with secret avenues of communication +to the outside world. He had begun with leniency and a smiling face. +Vice, indolence and a thousand weedy growths flourished up under his +elevated chin. When he awoke at last his rigor in uprooting them was +intemperate and ineffectual. Several felons escaped. A riot broke out +and the warden had been helplessly holding the reins behind a runaway +horse ever since. + +He had flogged men for not saluting when he passed, yet he was hooted at +every time he showed his head to the crowd. He had strung three +brushmakers up by the thumbs for idling, yet every shop except the +harness-makers, in spite of free labor, showed a deficit for the last +half-year. The cells were so littered with storage that it was almost +impossible to enter them. Contraband tobacco, gift books, tools, bird +cages, shirts and shoes smuggled from the workshops, even knives and +revolvers, were found in them. + +The "block," or dark dungeon, was always full. If some dozen of the +conniving deputies had been sent there, Warden Tapp might have had less +to extenuate. + +"It's quiet this evening," said Robert to Dobbs on Thursday. + +"That's the lull before the storm, my boy," said the cracksman. + +"You think we'll have trouble, then?" + +"Keep your 'ead in, my boy, when it rains. These 'ere coves 'll get a +wetting that'll spoil their Sunday duds. They 'aven't no hart." + +"No what?" + +"No hart, no hingenuity. They hask first and then try to take it. We'll +take what we want first--honly a little fresh air, Bobbs--and then we'll +hask for it, as a matter of form. Hi'm horfully punctilious on forms, +Bobbs." + +Dobbs chuckled at the prospect of writing a letter to the warden, +requesting his release from the safe distance of 3,000 miles. + +"Hi ain't the fool of the family, ham Hi, Bobbs?" + +"Who's that talking now, Dobbs?" + +"The thick-mouthed cove wot gets choked with 'is hown Adam's happle? +That's Quirk." + +"Quirk?" It was the familiar voice he had often tried to place, but +Floyd knew nobody named Quirk. + +"What is he grumbling for? Is he a ring-leader among the men?" + +"Ring-leader, ho, no. Ee lost 'is temper the first time ee saw 'is mug +in the quicksilver and ee's never found it since." + +This conversation had been conducted face to face in the dark through +the aperture formed by the removal of four bricks on each side of the +partition. Dobbs had already outlined a general plan to Robert by which +they were to escape. He was only waiting, he said, for his "chummy" to +"drop the sweet hinnocence game and hown up ee wasn't a lamb." + +"So you expect me to climb through that hole, Dobbs?" + +"If you won't gnaw your hown bars, you must." + +"It's too small." + +"Then we'll stretch her till she fits, as the 'aberdasher said when 'is +royal 'ighness' trousers didn't meet round 'is royal 'ighness' +waistband." + +"I doubt if even six will be wide enough. The bricks are only eight by +four apiece, and I think I'm more than sixteen by twelve." + +"Can a cat jump through a keyhole? No-sirree. But a corpuscle can wiggle +through a capillary." + +About 11 o'clock the next morning the entire prison force was summoned +to the rotunda to hear the farewell address of the warden. The rotunda +was a great round hall at one end of the bastile, or prison proper, +communicating through two double doors with the warden's office, from +which it was only a step to the street. Looking around at the desperate +gallery of 600 faces, all shaven, but ill-shaven, and most of them +brutal from the indulgence of hateful passions, Robert thought how small +a chance the forty keepers stood if that sullen herd should ever +stampede. + +But the walls of the rotunda were undressed bowlders of granite and the +windows all around were double-barred with iron rods that looked strong +enough to hold up a mountain. Only the rear doors were vulnerable at +all, and these simply led through the kitchen to the cells, or right and +left into the yard, at the end of which, and all along one side, +abutting the rotunda, were the workshops, while the other side was +impregnable with its twenty-foot wall. + +Flanked by Gradger and Longlegs, the Pelican rose to address his +mutineers. At his approach there was such a tremendous joggling in the +crowd, that for a time it looked as if the volcano would burst then and +there. But three spokesmen who had wriggled their way to the front +stepped forward with their hands clasped over their heads as a token of +peaceful intentions and requested the privilege of a word to the warden. +They were all marked men, undergoing long sentences and recognized as +dangerous criminals. The difference of type between them was conspicuous +as they stood in front of the surging crowd--Dickon Harvey, the Right +Spur and Minister Slick. + +Dickon Harvey was a diamond thief, polished in person and of fluent +address. Like those madmen in asylums whom the casual visitor finds +perfectly rational and indeed delightful companions, Dickon Harvey never +failed to convince callers at the prison of his moral sanity. He +admitted past misuse of undeniable talents, though stoutly denying the +particular crime upon which he was sentenced. His legends of early +temptation and ambition to reform had softened the heart of many a +philanthropist to pity. But his cold eye glittered with a point of light +sharp enough to cut the Koh-i-noor, and a turnkey of exceptional ability +was assigned to the ward which contained Dickon Harvey. + +The Right Spur derived his sobriquet from his position as head of the +rooster gang. There was little of what Dobbs called "hart" in his line +of work, which consisted simply in sandbagging and garroting picked-up +acquaintances or passers-by. But in the crude occupation of the footpad +he had displayed a brute daring that had surrounded his name with +associations of terror, and this diabolical halo had been brightened and +enlarged by his turbulence in jail. He was middle-sized and +barrel-built, with the complexion of a teamster, a wicked smile and a +scar. + +Minister Slick's career would be pictured by a line more excursive than +the diagram with which Sterne represents the history of Tristram Shandy. +His criminal twist had begun just where most men's end. Up to the age of +forty he had been able to delude several congregations into a belief in +his fitness for the sacred ministry. His sermons had been noted no less +for unction than for orthodoxy, their only heresies being grammatical +ones. Then came a fall, sudden and irretrievable. In a few months he had +developed unusual skill as a confidence man, in which he was aided by a +certain oiliness of manner and insinuating ease of speech. He was tall +and dignified, with a long gray beard, which Tapp permitted him to wear +on account of a chronic quinsy, though his kennel-mates whispered this +was all in your eye--a strange location to be sure, for a clergyman's +sore throat--but minute veracity was never expected of Minister Slick. + +"Mr. Warden," said Dickon Harvey, "I am desired, with my +fellow-spokesmen, by the entire community, to tender you our deepest +respect upon your retirement from the office whose duties you have so +conscientiously fulfilled." + +Tapp's lips quivered. Was this irony or praise? + +"If you have not always met with success, if our interests and yours +have seemed to clash at times, believe me there are few among us who do +not appreciate that the fault is in the system and not the man." + +"The system, the system," there rose a murmur among the men, which died +away like a stifled cry when Longlegs raised his gun. + +"We have read with interest the article on 'Prison Discipline,' +contributed by you to the last number of the Penological Quarterly, and +the petition we present is, we believe, in line with most of the reforms +you suggest." + +"You desire to present me a petition. Of what value is that? Col. +Mainwaring enters to-morrow. It belongs to him." + +"A recommendation from yourself, Mr. Warden," answered Minister Slick, +"would surely have great weight." + +"What is the burden of your document?" + +Dickon Harvey removed a paper from his "budge." + +"A seriatim schedule of the reforms which we respectfully ask to be +enacted." + +"Take the paper to your office," whispered Longlegs to the warden, but +the obstinate official only flushed angrily at his presumption. + +"I will hear what you have to say," he said, weakly clutching at this +last hope of favor among the convicts. Dickon Harvey proceeded to read +his production. + + "To the Warden of Georgetown State Prison: We, the undersigned, + being inmates of your institution and the chief sufferers by its + irregularities of government, hereby offer and present the + following schedule of reforms which we regard as necessary----" + +"Necessary," emphasized the Right Spur, and nearly 500 heads wagged +approval. + + "Necessary to the quiet and welfare of the community. + + "1. That the grotesque, degrading, uncomfortable and unhealthful + striped garb which we are at present condemned to wear be exchanged + for a uniform of gray woolen goods. + + "2. That the practice of shaving, designed to destroy our + self-respect and efface all evidences of our former and better + identity, be abolished, and each man allowed free choice in the + matter of his personal appearance, which concerns himself so deeply + and nobody else at all. + + "3. That intervals of conversation be allowed among the whist + parties. (This was the local name of the shop-gang, who, under the + existing system, were compelled to work amid a silence as absolute + as that of a Trappist monastery.) + + "4. That the dunce-cap rule be suspended and workers who happen to + be unemployed for a few moments be allowed to sit at their benches + instead of standing face to the wall. + + "5. That the cat-o'-nine-tails and thumb-screw be abolished and + punishment limited to the block or extension of sentence, and that + the rules for shortening of sentence on account of good behavior be + made more liberal. + + "6. That the tobacco rations and weekly prune stew be restored. + + "7. That the cells be lighted until 9 o'clock with a gas-jet in + each, and reading or writing allowed. + + "8. That Ezra C. Hawkins, Kenneth Douglas, Murtagh McMorrow and + Johann Koerber be discharged for inordinate and unnecessary + severity and cruelty." + +This article was greeted with a swell of cheers and taunts which Tapp +seemed impotent to quell. + + "9. That favoritism and privilege shall be a thing unknown." + +Another bellow greeted this, and Floyd knew from the glance that the +clause was a blow at himself. The cell he occupied was known as "the +parlor" from its greater width, its ventilation and its possession of a +reading-table and cupboard. There was jealousy, moreover, because he had +been allowed to do light work about the greenhouse (which he was +entirely competent to supervise, from his botanical knowledge) instead +of being put at a bench. They forgot that his status was different from +theirs. The labor was quite voluntary. + + "10. That the indeterminate sentence be put into effect, so that + through the specious pretext of punishing crime, the abominable + crime of depriving peaceable and perfectly harmless citizens, who + have bitterly atoned for some past peccadillo and earnestly desire + to demonstrate their change of spirit to the world, be not + committed under the sanction of law." + +Harvey handed the petition to Tapp. It was, on the whole, an enlightened +document. Two of the men who prepared it were probably as able as any of +the officials of the prison. Robert could see the different hands at +work in its composition. The "past peccadilloes" were Dickon Harvey's +"flim-flam" adventures, while the demands for more tobacco, for Hawkins' +removal and the reduction of his own "privilege" were a concession to +the ruffian element, represented by the Right Spur of the Rooster gang. +Yet several of the recommendations were as wise and sound as though all +the prison associations in the country had indorsed them. + +"Prisoners----" Tapp started to reply. + +"No gammon," interrupted the Right Spur, scowling, while a hundred other +scowls immediately gathered on the foreheads of his particular +followers. + +Tapp colored again. His obstinacy was aroused. He was not a timid man. + +"It would be a breach of courtesy toward my successor to offer him such +suggestions. I do not propose to recommend the discharge of employes +whose only offense is their fidelity to duty; neither do I propose to +constitute myself the spokesman of a mob of law-breakers." + +A hiss--the most hateful sound that issues from the human throat, with +its serpentine suggestions and its vagueness of origin--greeted this +challenge. The keepers gripped their guns, awaiting an order, but the +Pelican stood helpless, furious, perplexed. + +"To the shops!" he cried at last, and the triumphant convicts were +driven like a herd of cattle to their tables and tools. There were +muffled yells from the offenders buried in the block when they passed +it; and at dinner, when the men filed up to the kitchen slide and +carried off their platters of bread and pork, a dozen unruly boarders +were only subdued to moderate quiet at the rifle's point. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A BATTLE IN THE ROTUNDA. + + +At 2 o'clock the alarm bell rang out thirteen ominous notes. This was +the fire-box of the prison. The flames had broken out in the +wicker-workers' shop, where the younger and lighter convicts plaited +summer chairs, flower-stands and all kinds of basket articles. On a high +throne set against the middle of one wall sat Johann Koerber, the deputy +in charge, overseeing everything, pistol in hand. He was a Titan of 300 +pounds, who might have proved admirable in his proper work of putting +maniacs in strait-jackets. But his selection as overseer of the +work-rooms was another instance of Tapp's want of judgment. For all his +formidable strength, Koerber lacked the power to govern. The slenderest +boy did not fear him, while even "papa," the giant negro who loaded the +teams, stood in awe of "Slim" Butler, the lightweight deputy who had +charge of the harness-makers. Right under Koerber's eye, the match was +applied in several places, and almost before he smelled smoke the canes +and osiers were on fire. + +Then came the wild riot. In every shop but "Slim" Butler's the officer +in charge was overpowered before the alarm bell had ceased ringing. +Butler held his men down by sheer strength of will, until the sight of +others rushing about in the yard below drove the men at the windows to +frenzy, and with the loss of one of their number the brave deputy was +disarmed, mangled, crushed. Brushmakers, tailors, shoemakers, saddlers, +teamsters and handy men, all streamed from the workshop doors, making by +concert toward the wire pole in the middle of the yard. Here the Right +Spur was executing a dangerous but ingenious maneuver. + +Astride of the cross-bars of the pole, which he had climbed in full view +of a dozen deputies, he was cutting the thick telephone wire with a huge +pair of shears. The thing could be done in twenty seconds if his +confederates mobbed the keepers below, and it might mean a delay of +twenty minutes in the arrival of re-enforcements from the nearest +station. Stupefied and absorbed, the convict crew were gazing upward at +their chief on his perilous perch, when the tall form of Hawkins was +seen striding down from the bath-room entrance. The other deputies had +contented themselves with fronting the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, +rifles leveled, like a herd of musk-bulls with lowered horns defending +their females against wolves or men. Hawkins raised his rifle and fired. + +The bullet missed its mark and the crack of the powder roused the +convicts from their stupor. With a bestial cry and faces on fire, the +forward rank, pushed on by those behind, swept down on the group of +deputies. Chisels, mallets, hammers, tools and weapons of all kinds from +a wheel-spoke to a blunderbuss were brandished in their hands. One +volley and the deputies fled--all but Hawkins. Almost simultaneously, +it seemed, the second barrel of his rifle hurled its missile, the Right +Spur was seen to drop from his post, dragging the severed wire with him +to the ground, and "Longlegs" himself was felled, bleeding and +senseless, with a heavy bottle. + +The mob would have been glad to outrage his body, but time was precious +and Dickon Harvey had already sped to the north corner of the "bastile" +and was beckoning and summoning his men to follow. They rushed in his +wake, turned one corner of the bastile and then another, gave a great +shout of joy as they saw the wide outlet of freedom before them. + +The bastile was the great granite castle which contained the cells, a +continuation of the rotunda. It projected into the yard, leaving a wide +space at one end and at both sides. On the opposite side from that in +which the shops were located stood the greenhouses, where Robert Floyd +was accustomed to work whenever he wearied of writing. He had been +crouching under the slant glass roof of the conservatory, snipping off +the dead leaves, when the alarm bell sounded. The cries on the other +side of the bastile brought him out on the open grass plot, and he was +standing there, scissors in hand, when the convict pack swept toward him +around the angle 100 yards away. At the same time he heard the impatient +bells of the fire-engines jingling up the street. + +The riot had been ably planned. Over on this side of the yard stood the +entrance for teams. It was this point that the fire engines from without +and the convicts from within were making for together. The alternative +offered was that of letting the workshops burn or of emptying the jail +of its inmates. Outside there was a ponderous iron gate, guarded by a +deputy. Within this a stout one of oak wood, which a convict was +detailed to open and shut. This convict was no other than Minister +Slick, who had persuaded the warden to assign him to this light duty on +the score of advancing age and feebleness. + +Minister Slick's door was only open a crack. He was too cunning to give +the deputy outside a view of the convicts racing down the yard. Not +until the outer iron gate was swung back and the fire horses came +galloping along did he throw his own gate in, without any marked +evidence of "feebleness." The fire engine burst through; the convicts +were at hand. Before the heavy iron gate outside could be shut they +would be down upon its guardian and he would be swept aside like a +sapling before the moose. + +Floyd was quick to take in the situation and quick to choose his course +of action. The deputies were flying in every direction before the +victorious mob. A hundred yards can be covered in a very few seconds, +even by men who are not professional sprinters. The wooden gate must not +remain open. + +The fire engine shielded him from the gaze of Minister Slick, who had +drawn a revolver, but, not daring to attack the outside deputy alone, +stood awaiting the onset of his fellow-prisoners. Robert was upon him in +an instant and drove the greenhouse scissors into his neck, then thrust +him aside, swung the door to with a mighty shove and turned just in time +to dodge the rush of the maddened convicts. + +Fifty of them flung themselves against the gate. It groaned but held +firm. The original oak had buffeted winter gales fiercer than this, when +the sap was in its veins and its green leaves rustled about the +spreading branches. Like a wave of ocean breaking into foam against a +cliff the oncoming mob scattered and reeled back in indecision. Several +of them made at Robert, hurling their weapons at his flying form. Others +ran along the great wall, like tigers along their cage bars, as if +feeling for an opening. Only Dickon Harvey, from the moment that the +inner gate clanged, had stood still in the middle of the clashing +throng, turning his head to and fro and studying the situation. He was +not slow to make up his mind. + +"Out by the rotunda!" he shouted, waving his hand, and the whole rabble +was making for the rotunda before the fire-horses had rounded the angle +of the bastile at the other end of the yard. + +Now Robert, hemmed in by a broad line of 400 armed opponents, had +already chosen this outlet of escape for himself. He had foiled their +plan and it would go hard with him if he and they should remain within +these prison walls alone. There was a possibility that the flying +deputies had left the rotunda doors ajar, since they were so heavy as to +require several seconds to open and shut. So through the kitchen, up the +iron stairs and across the tiled floor of the rotunda he sped, with the +foremost of the pursuers almost at his heels. Only one deputy, Gradger, +opposed himself to his progress, gun in hand, and Robert eluded him with +the ease of a football dodger. + +Both doors were ajar, the outer one, however, only a dozen inches or +less. Perhaps twenty feet lay between him and safety. He had almost +flung himself upon the knob, when a man coming toward him from the +outside forestalled his purpose and drew the door to with a clang. It +was Tapp, who from his office, unable to rally his routed deputies, was +rushing to the scene of the riot, determined to retrieve by a last act +of courage the numberless shortcomings of his administration. + +Robert's predicament was fearful. The door barred egress, the dogs were +at his heels. Something of the cowering awe that benumbs the stag when +his legs at last tremble under him and he turns to face the baying pack +swept through his breast for an instant. But it was no more than an +instant, for the young man's blood was roused and it was not unmixed +with iron. With a leap at the knob and a mighty tug he drew the inner +door between himself and the criminals. + +A snarl, hardly human, burst from hundreds of throats when they saw this +last avenue closed. The thick glass of the door was splintered in a +jiffy and vicious hands, armed with bludgeons and cutting tools, +stretched through the bars at the traitor who had twice cheated them. As +green displaces yellow in the chameleon's coat, so a wave of revenge +suddenly swept aside the hope of escape in the temper of the crowd. +Fortunately the space between the two doors was so wide that Robert +could back away and avoid the blows intended for his vitals. + +But he had not reckoned on Dickon Harvey. Harvey had been the first to +hurl himself on the door that Robert drew between the convicts and +himself. Without a word, without a moment of hesitation, he had turned +back diagonally, the others making a lane for him, and thrown himself on +the turnkey Gradger. The struggle was fierce. Had Harvey been alone, he +would have gone down underneath in the bout. But he was not alone. +Twenty hands reached at the keeper and presently Harvey came pushing +through the others, waving a huge bunch of keys over his head with a +shout that the whole hall echoed. + +Robert looked behind him through the outer door. Tapp had disappeared +into his office. There was only the clerk and some idlers about and none +of these, if they could have opened the door, dared to exercise the +power. It was only a question of time when Dickon Harvey would find the +right key. He could see the weapons waving in bared right arms and the +shouts of the rabble once more had a hopeful ring. He said nothing, did +nothing. There was nothing to do. But a rippling in his cheek showed +that his teeth were clenching and unclenching. Instinctively he spread +his arms out, backing against the outer door, clutching the bars and +facing his hunters. It was the attitude of crucifixion. + +"Ha!" Dickon Harvey was silent as death, but the shriek of exultation +told that his wrist had turned on the handle of the key. It fitted the +wards. Slowly, all too slowly for the convicts, all too quickly for +Floyd, the inner door was drawn ajar and the foremost men crouched to +spring. Then came a crash in the glass behind Floyd at his very ear. A +long tube of steel passed by his cheek, and, turning, he looked into the +eye of Warden Tapp sighting along the barrel of a rifle. The report rang +out and Dickon Harvey fell forward, the keys jangling at his feet. +Robert wrenched them from his unclasping hand. They were his only +weapon. He had lost the scissors. + +At the fall of Harvey the men recoiled for an instant. Quickly another +rifle, and another, and another were thrust through the bars behind +Robert, and he was cautioned to stand motionless. Like a mountebank's +daughter, whose body outlined against a board the father fringes with +skillfully cast knives, each missing her by only a hair, the prisoner +stood with his arms outspread, protected by the chevaux de frise of +protruding guns. Several of the defenders were kneeling and one thrust +his muzzle between the young man's legs. + +"Retire!" said Tapp. "Clear the rotunda!" The men sullenly stood. + +"One! Two----" + +Before the fatal "Three" was added they broke and turned. Then the +muzzles were drawn in, the door behind Robert opened and the warden, at +the head of half a dozen deputies and a dozen policemen who had just +arrived, charged in upon them. The odds were twenty to one, but with the +Right Spur lying senseless under the telephone pole, Minister Slick +wounded at the gate where Robert had stabbed him and Dickon Harvey dead +on the threshold to freedom, the rabble was merely a torso of Hercules, +formidable in physique but powerless without head or limbs. The clubs of +the officers made heavy thuds and the red blood starting here and there +splashed curious spots of color in the dingy crowd. At one stairway +Robert saw the tall form of Hawkins, bleeding but revived, thrashing +around with an empty gun barrel. Then the mob was driven down the +stairs, dividing itself into two portions in the right and left yards. + +"Open the team gate," cried Hawkins, leading the deputies and officers +to the left, through the kitchen, instead of to the right through the +bath-rooms, whither Tapp had started. This time the warden was content +to follow and the reason became at once apparent. The solitary fire +engine stood over against the burning shops, helpless without its hose. +From the outside several streams were playing on the buildings and the +firemen, mounting by ladders, were climbing along the roof. But access +from within was necessary if any headway were to be made. The engines +stood outside the gate, occupying the interval of delay by getting up +their fires. + +Hawkins stationed his men in a cordon across the gate and admitted the +engines and hose carriages and ladder trucks. One by one they dashed by +till as many as could be supplied with water from the hydrants in the +yard had entered. Then the tall deputy locked the others out, detailed +one squad to guard the rotunda and another to close all doors of the +bastile. With the remainder of the company, re-enforced by more +policemen and keepers, he began to corral his steers. + +In order to do this it was necessary that his own men should maintain +the solidarity of a phalanx, while deploying out like a line of +skirmishers from wall to wall. Spread over the width of the yard at one +side, they began their march with rifles and revolvers ready. The +stragglers fled before them. Their gait was slow. Turning the upper +angle, an ambush was to be feared, but the spirit of the convicts was +broken and they only hurled their weapons and fled. Hawkins wheeled his +line to the right, making the pivot-mark time, and passed along the end +of the yard, which was deserted. Turning the second angle, a more +desperate resistance was shown. Here all was confusion, the engines and +burning shops offering places of refuge, while the presence of the +firemen made it impossible to shoot. Hawkins halted his command. + +"All firemen in the yard fall behind this line!" he shouted. The firemen +left their engines, several of them only tearing themselves away by +force. Three were captured and held in front by the convicts. The +others, seeing this murderous purpose, could hardly be restrained from +rushing to their rescue. + +"Club guns!" cried Hawkins, and the breeches instead of the muzzles were +presented to the mob. But they seemed to dread this end of the weapon as +much as the other, for they released the firemen and slowly withdrew, +Hawkins' line continuing its Macedonian march. Suddenly from a thick +nucleus among the rebels, a spokesman started forward with a white +handkerchief tied to a pole. Hawkins motioned him back and the march was +continued. The men were penned up against the bath-room entrance, +leading into the rotunda and the bastile, where four deputies with +leveled rifles prevented escape. Hawkins had cleared the hydrants and +the firemen resumed their work. + +"Deputies at the bath-room door fall back and guard the stairs leading +up to the rotunda! The prisoners will file into their cells in the +bastile!" + +This was the last straw. A yell of rage burst from the mob. To be flung +back into their kennels with the bitter crust of disappointment to gnaw, +and the prospect of punishment for the day's misdoings, this was too +much to endure without a last resistance. They turned upon their keepers +with the courage of the beast at bay. + +"Now!" cried Hawkins, and his line rushed forward. The hand-to-hand +struggle of the rotunda was renewed more equally, for there were +resolute men in the mob, men reckless of life and maddened by the +goading around the yard. Nor was their accoutrement of iron tools +despicable. Dozens slipped through the line, and policemen as well as +convicts were seen staggering under blows. But the timid ones speedily +fled into the bastile, and, thinning the multitude, robbed it of that +consciousness of numerical superiority which had given it confidence. At +last not more than twenty desperadoes remained, backs to the wall, in +front of the line. + +"Club them down!" cried Hawkins. + +There was no choice but to obey. The men were of that mettle which +breaks but does not bend. One by one they were beaten to the ground. + +The whole of the afternoon was required to lock the mutineers up +properly. With the aid of those prisoners who had not joined the riot +the fire in the shops was finally put out and a good deal of the +property was saved. Only one life had been lost, that of Dickon Harvey, +but the hospital beds were full that night. + +When Warden Tapp called Robert to the office and thanked him in person +for his behavior at the team gate and in the rotunda there were tears in +the proud man's eyes. This was a shameful legacy of ruin and rebellion +which he was leaving to his successor. + +Passing out of the warden's room, through the rotunda, Robert heard the +familiar voice which had puzzled him so often. + +"Aisy, Misther Butler, aisy, for the love o' heaven," the uncouth fellow +groaned. + +Floyd turned and looked. "Slim" Butler, the overseer of the +harness-shop, was superintending the transfer to the hospital on an +improvised stretcher of the prisoner whom he had shot when his section +rose against him. His own head was bandaged and his clothes were burned. +The firemen had rescued them both with difficulty. But the face of the +prisoner caused Robert to start, for he recognized in the convict whom +Dobbs called Quirk his uncle's coachman, Dennis Mungovan. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THREE OF A KIND. + + +"I've got him! I've got him! Take his other arm, Toot!" + +"Let go; she's tipping!" + +"Will I let go and see the bloke drownded? You're a spunky feller, Toot +Watts. Anybody'd think you never rocked a dory before yourself. Get up +in the stern, Turkey. Now pull her in to the bridge and hold on to the +logs. That'll balance her." + +With one hand the Whistler held the drowning man's arm, while with the +other he lifted his chin out of the water. It was a dangerous position, +leaning over the bow in this manner, but the man in tow was unconscious +and could not struggle. In a half-dozen strokes Turkey had brought the +dory's stern up against one of the piles of the pier. This support he +clasped with might and main, while Toot and the Whistler drew the body +over the bow. Both were breathing hard when it was finally boarded. + +"Turn him over," cried the Whistler. "You take the oars, Turkey, and row +like fury for the beach. Get the bloke's head around, Toot, up against +the bow. That's it. Now work his left arm up and down; I'll take the +right--not so fast--about like this. That'll make him breathe." + +"Do you think he's dead?" asked Toot in an awestruck whisper. + +"He ain't dead. I felt of his heart." + +"I seen a bloke at the bath-house that was in the water half an hour and +they brought him round," said Turkey, panting at the oars. + +"Keep the arm going, Toot. Never mind if you're tired." + +"Are we near the beach?" asked Toot. He was the youngest of the trio, +not much more than a child, in fact, and even the slum child, precocious +in many kinds of knowledge, does not peep without tremors behind the +veil of the mystery of mysteries. No one answered his query. An answer +was not necessary, for over his shoulder the white line of the surf +could be seen. When they got near the Whistler jumped to Turkey's side, +seized the right oar and gave the added impetus of his lithe young arms +to the headway of the boat. The water hardly rippled the glorious ribbon +of moonlight behind them and wind and tide were set toward shore. Under +these favoring circumstances the dory was carried high and dry upon the +sands. + +"Lift him out," cried the Whistler. Shagarach's body was laid upon the +beach, dripping and disheveled. "You run up to the refectory, Toot, and +tell the cop there to bring some whisky. Turn him over, Turkey, and let +the water run out. Now slap his cheeks. Slap them hard." + +"He's breathing." + +"How did he tumble in, I wonder? Gee, didn't he come down flopping?" + +"P'raps he was loaded." + +"Lucky he didn't hit on them rocks there." + +"He would if the tide was dead low." + +Neither the Whistler nor Turkey had checked their vigorous efforts to +resuscitate the limp body. Even the catching of their boat on a +high-crested wave did not seduce them from their work. + +"I'll swim after her," said the Whistler, watching the dory drift slowly +off the sands. + +Soon Shagarach's eyes opened and his lips muttered indistinctly. +Presently he moved his arms. How cool the air was! He had often longed +to lie like this on a soft, white sand, and let the shallow water play +over him, while he pierced with his gaze the deep blue sky. But the +stars were above him now--not pendulous tongues of flame such as +throbbed in the oriental heavens of his childhood, but the smoldering +embers of the northern night, paling in the moonlight. And whose were +those two strange faces thrust darkly over the golden disk? + +"Are you better, mister?" It was unmistakably an earthly tone, the voice +and accent of the city gamin, but warm with that humaneness of heart +which a ragged jacket shelters as often as a velvet one. + +"Take my coat, mister. You're shivering," said the Whistler, suiting +action to word, so that Shagarach found himself embraced by a garment, +not dry by any means, but more grateful than the soaked apparel which +was chilling his skin. + +"If you can get up, mister, and run around, it'll warm you. Toot'll be +here soon with some whisky." + +Shagarach gathered his strength to rise, but the effort was fruitless. + +"How did I come here?" he gasped. + +"You fell over the bridge, right near us. We were fishing for smelts and +rowed over and saved you." + +"That was fortunate. I thank you," murmured Shagarach. + +"Can't yer swim?" asked Turkey in a pitying tone, but Shagarach was +preoccupied with his recollections. He had made a mistake of judgment. +He should have declined the rendezvous. But who and what was the +assailant, the leering oaf he had passed on the pier? Was it some agent +of the Arnolds? The anonymous letters pointed to that source. They were +all seamed with allusions to the trial of Robert Floyd. And they formed +his only clew. Stay, the hat he still clutched in his hand. He raised it +feebly--for the mental energies of the lawyer were more elastic than the +physical--and his teeth were still chattering though his brain was +clear. It was a round, rimless cap of a common pattern. + +"Here comes Toot." The Whistler, who was all eyes, had been the first to +espy him, running at the top of his speed. Out of the darkness behind +him loomed the powerful form of a policeman. + +"The cop's comin', fellers. Here he is," cried Toot. + +"Gimme the whisky," said the Whistler. "Take a swig, mister. It'll warm +you up." + +Shagarach applied his lips to the bottle and took a sparing draught. + +"Well, how is the gentleman?" sang out the policeman, cheerily. + +"He's all right now," answered the Whistler, a strange uneasiness coming +over him. + +The officer stooped down to the man's face. + +"Why, Mr. Shagarach----" Surprise prevented him from saying more and +Shagarach looked up at hearing his name. + +"You're not on the old beat now?" he said. + +"No, I'm on the park force till I get strong again. This is a bad +accident. Coming round all right, though, by the look o' things." + +"Yes, give me a hand and I'll try to rise." + +Officer Chandler's great hand swung Shagarach on his feet. For a moment +his knees sunk. Then he shook himself like a draggled dog. The liquor +was working its way to his marrow and banishing the deep-seated chill. + +"I owe my life to these boys," he said. + +"Hello, what are you stripping for?" asked the officer, turning around. + +"My dory," answered the Whistler. He had already reduced himself to the +minimum of wearing apparel and stood ankle-deep in the surf. + +The dory was twenty yards out, showing a dark broadside against the +moonlit waves. + +"Oh, all right," laughed Chandler. "Give me your arm, Mr. Shagarach. +We'll furnish you a new outfit at the refectory. How did it all happen?" + +"One moment, till the boy comes back." Shagarach knew that his assailant +had had time to escape and that search for the present would be useless, +but he saw no advantage in keeping the incident to himself. So he +sketched the story of the letters, the rendezvous and the struggle, in +his curt, forcible style. + +"Find the head that cap fits and you'll do me a service," he concluded, +showing Chandler the headgear. + +"There was nobody on the bridge?" + +"Nobody but the oaf I described." + +"Wade out, Turkey," the Whistler was calling to his barefoot companions. +He seemed shy of putting his boat ashore. Since the arrival of the +officer all three urchins had become singularly distant and distressed. +Was this only the natural awe which slum children feel in the presence +of the police? Or was it conscience that made cowards of them all? + +"Come ashore, young feller. The gentleman wants to thank you," said +Chandler. + +"We must look for the fishing-pole under the pier," answered the +Whistler. It was true that he had thrown his rod away when they heard +the loud splash of Shagarach's body in the water. But his manner +indicated that while what he said might be true, it was not the fact. +Turkey and Toot also had shown unseemly haste in wading out to the dory +with the Whistler's outer raiment. The Whistler was digging the blade in +for his first stroke when Shagarach addressed him in a tone that made +him pause. + +"My young friends, I am too weak to thank you to-night. To-morrow is +Saturday. Could you call at my office in the morning, 31 Putnam street? +Mr. Shagarach. Can you come?" + +"Yes, sir," answered the boys, with more submission than gladness in +their voices. All the gamin's impudence melts at a touch of true +kindness. The boys waited a moment, then disappeared into the night, +while Shagarach, with the policeman's assistance, made his way through +the gathering crowd to the refectory. + +It was the misfortune of Jacob, Shagarach's office boy, to be the owner +of a most preposterous nose, the consciousness of which led him to fear +society and shun the mannerless multitude. Boys of his own age in +particular he dreaded, as a tame crow is said to fear nothing so much as +a wild one. So when our three mischiefmakers entered the office the next +morning and seated themselves till Mr. Shagarach should return, the poor +lad began squirming by anticipation in his chair as if its seat were a +pin cushion with the points of the pins protruding. As a matter of +defensive tactics, this was the worst possible attitude to take, as it +courted assault. But Jacob was not a strategist. + +Before long his torture began, first by side comments and giggles, +suppressed in deference to the decorum of the surroundings. Then he was +subjected to a running fire of personal questions, the tone of which +speedily began to mimic the muffled nasals of his own richly accented +responses. This would have been acute torment to a sensitive lad and a +spirited one would have ended the comedy by an appeal to arms. But poor +Jacob was stolid and peaceable. So his tormenters had things their own +way. The Whistler especially seemed to have neither conscience nor +reason in his make-up, but an enormous funny-bone which usurped the +functions of both. It was not until Aronson came in that Jacob was able +to make his escape. + +Saul Aronson was not a musical young man. If he yawned down the major +chord twice or thrice at bedtime this was the nearest he ever got to +singing. But when the Whistler raised his flexible pipe, at first +softly, then loudly, with wonderful trills, breaking into still more +wonderful tremolos, with staccato volleys, and ascending arpeggios that +would have put a mocking-bird to shame, it is no wonder that he gave up +the attempt to insert the metes and bounds correctly in a quit-claim +deed and contented himself with furtively watching the o-shaped orifice +from which this flood of melody issued. This was his occupation when +Shagarach's form, crossing the threshold, sent him back to his copying +and checked the Whistler in the full ecstasy of an improvised cadenza. + +"You have saved my life," said Shagarach to the boys when they had +followed him into the inner room. He used the plural number, but his +gaze seemed to be attracted to the Whistler, whose neatly brushed hair +told of a mother's hand, and whose restless blue eyes, fringed with +heavy dark lashes, centered a face oval, high-born and sweet, which gave +out in every contour the glad emanation of a youth which was natural and +pure. There was less in the others to make them distinctive. Turkey +seemed to be a hulking clod and Toot was wizened and shrill-voiced and +sharp. + +"You have saved my life. How can I repay you?" + +"I don't want any pay," spoke up Whistler. "I on'y came here to tell you +about the fire." + +"What fire?" + +"Turkey said you was defending the bloke that set fire to the house on +Cazenove street." + +"Do you know something about that?" + +"We seen a blo--a man coming out of the house," answered the Whistler. + +"Then you come to make me still more obliged to you. But you must let me +discharge a part of my other debt first I have just come from the bank. +Here are fifteen double eagles. You will each give me your mother's name +and address and I will send her five." + +Turkey and Toot showed no reluctance in doing this, but the Whistler +still held back. + +"My mother doesn't want any reward," he said. All three of the boys had +just graduated from the Phillips grammar school, and could place their +negatives correctly when they chose. + +"This is not a reward. I only ask you to allow me to be your friend. At +your age I had never seen this amount of money." + +But still the Whistler blushed and shook his head till Shagarach +perceived the boy's principle could not be shaken. + +"You will give me your mother's address? Perhaps I may be able to get +you work. Wouldn't you like to go to work?" + +"Oh, yes, sir." The Whistler's face, which obstinate refusal, even for +so honorable a scruple, had clouded with a trace of sullenness, +brightened at once and his blue eyes smiled. Shagarach copied the +address carefully and determined not to lose sight of the boy who knew +how to say no so decidedly. + +"And now----" he pushed the memorandum book aside. "I am defending +Floyd. What did you wish to tell me?" + +"We was the first at the fire," said Toot, eagerly. + +"And we found the body of the servant," added Turkey. + +But Shagarach's eyes never left the Whistler. + +"Just when the fire broke out," said the Whistler, "we were coming +through the alleyway side of the house." + +"Yes." + +"A big bloke--I mean a tall man--was running down the alleyway into +Broad street. I noticed him, because the alley was narrow and he knocked +me down." + +"Where?" + +"In the alleyway." + +"Near Broad street?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Ran against you and knocked you down?" + +"Yes, sir, and said: 'Darn it, get out of the way.'" + +"Was he running?" + +"Well, half-running." + +"We was running," added Toot; "'cause we heard them yelling 'Fire!'" + +"What kind of a looking man was it?" + +"A big, brown man, with a black mustache." + +"He looked like a dood," added Toot. + +"You didn't know him?" + +"No, sir." + +"Would you know him again?" + +"Oh, yes," answered the Whistler. "I seen--I saw him last week pulling a +single scull up the river." + +Shagarach remembered having seen a portrait of Harry Arnold displayed in +a fashionable photographer's showcase--shaggy cape-coat and fur cap +setting off his splendid beauty. Immediately he wrote the address on a +card, and, summoning Aronson, bade him obtain a half-dozen copies of the +photograph. + +"He was a handsome young man, then? About how old?" + +The three guesses varied from 21 to 27. Either of these ages seems +fabulously advanced from the standpoint of 14. + +"Did you notice anything about his hands? Were they bare or did he wear +gloves?" + +"His right hand was bare," answered the Whistler, "'cause his fingernail +scratched me when he thrun me--when he threw me down." + +Shagarach drew forth the glove which Chandler had brought him and was +studying it profoundly. Apparently he forgot the presence of the boys, +so deep was his meditation. Then at last he started out of the reverie, +thanked them again and with kind assurances of friendship shook their +hands in parting at the door. + +"Ain't he a dandy bloke?" whispered Turkey on the stairs. + +"Why didn't yer take it, Whistler?" said Toot. + +But the Whistler held his peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +DEATHBED REVELATIONS. + + +When Emily Barlow ran down to Shagarach's office at noon this Saturday +she was accompanied by her friend, Beulah Ware. Beulah Ware was as dark +as Emily was fair. In temperament, as in complexion, the two girls +offered a contrast, Beulah's carriage having the recollected dignity of +a nun's, while Emily's sensibilities were all as fine as those Japanese +swords which are whetted so keenly they divide the light leaves that +fall across their edges. + +"We should like to leave a note with the flowers, Mr. Aronson. Could you +furnish us paper?" + +Aronson was only too eager to furnish not only paper, but envelope, +ink-well and a ready-filled pen. When the young ladies went out he +thought a cloud passed over the arid chapters of his Pickering XII. This +was the note, pinned to a graceful bouquet, that Shagarach read on his +return: + + "My Dear Mr. Shagarach: You must have read of the riot yesterday in + which Robert behaved so nobly. But he is even more pleased with a + discovery which he made during the affair. It seems that one of the + wounded convicts, who has been passing under the name of Quirk, is + no other than the coachman, Mungovan, whom none of us could find. + Could you manage to call at the prison to-day? The poor fellow is + seriously injured and may have important evidence in his + possession. Yours truly, + + "EMILY BARLOW." + +The violets seemed to move Shagarach far more than the note, momentous +as its revelation might be. His hand trembled when he reached to clasp +the stems. Then he withdrew it and stood irresolute. A procession was +passing through the street below. From the window he could see the +tilted necks of a line of fifers. Was it a horror of music that made him +shut out these sounds so often? A dread of perfume and loveliness that +made him leave the room at once with brief directions to Aronson? The +casual observer would have said that he merely hurried to obey the +suggestion of Emily's note, for he took his way at once to the state +prison across the river. + +When Col. Mainwaring took hold of the prison that morning it was +expected that two out of every five of the convicts would have to be +bastinadoed before peace could be restored. Against the advice of all +the deputies, including Hawkins, he had summoned his wards to the +rotunda and outlined his course of action in a cool speech. The burden +of it was that he intended to begin with a clean sheet and to look out +for their interests rather than their sensibilities, or, as he expressed +it, "to give them hard words but soft mattresses." + +The matter and manner of the address had a tranquillizing effect and +some of the shops that day wore as quiet and decent an aspect as any +factory-room in the state. Moreover, as soon as it became known that the +colonel had resolved to adopt several of the reforms demanded in Dickon +Harvey's petition, even the moodiest of the ring-leaders felt that they +could submit without any hurt to pride. + +Stretched on a hospital cot, whispering with contrite eyes to a +black-robed clergyman, lay Dennis Mungovan. The look on his face was +peaceful and exalted. His hands were clasped. The groans of patients and +the odor of drugs which filled the chamber did not reach his senses. He +had just finished his deathbed confession and stood upon a secure +footing on the terra firma of faith, awaiting the summons from above. + +"A lawyer to speak with Quirk," announced the attendant. + +"Not Quirk, but Mungovan," said the clergyman, making way. + +"And must you lave me, father dear?" besought the patient, stretching +out his hands as a cold man in winter reaches toward the fire. + +"I have a wedding to perform, my son. Remember, your hours in this +valley of tears are few, and you have left everything worldly behind +you. Thank God, who in His infinite mercy has given you the grace of a +happy death." + +"I do, father, I do," cried the pallid sufferer. + +"And an opportunity to repent of your sins. God bless you. Good-by." + +The clergyman bowed to Shagarach and departed--from the deathbed to the +wedding service, from the grave to the cradle of life, so wide was the +compass of his ministrations. + +"You are dying, then?" asked Shagarach. + +"Wid a bullet in me breast, misthur, that the doctors can't rache. Och, +they murdhered me wid their probin'. And all for what? All for nawthin'. +What was I to be mixin' in their riots for? Wirrasthrue! Wirrasthrue!" + +"You know Robert Floyd is in the prison here?" + +"Robert Floyd! For the love o' heaven, misthur, don't tell him it's me. +Tell him I'm Quirk. Och, that lie is a sin on me sowl." + +"The truth will be best when you are so near death," said Shagarach, +quietly. "Perhaps it would be better at all times. Besides, Mr. Floyd +knows you are here." + +"Misther," the dying man drew Shagarach toward him. "Misther! Do me a +favor for the love o' doin' good." + +"What is it?" + +"Will you do it--an' I'll pray for your sowl before the throne, so help +me----" + +"I will if I can. What is it?" + +"Keep it from Ellen." + +"Keep what?" + +"My name, my disgrace. Never let the poor girl know. She was my wife." + +"Your wife?" Shagarach was puzzled a moment. "You mean Ellen Greeley?" + +"Ellen Mungovan, before God." + +"Ellen Greeley is dead. She perished in the fire." + +The man started up in his bed so violently as to burst the bandage of +his wound. His blood began to stain the linen and Shagarach was obliged +to call an attendant, who adjusted it and tucked the patient snugly in. +Still his glassy eyes were fixed on Shagarach and his muttering lips +seemed to say over the word: "Dead! Dead! Dead!" + +"She was burned to death in the Arnold fire. Robert Floyd is accused of +setting it and causing her death." + +"Burned to death!" The man's brain seemed bewildered. + +"Didn't you know these things?" + +"Shure, how would I know them, misther, all cooped in here like a bat in +a cave?" + +"How did you come here?" + +"Och, the foolishness came over me, wid my head tangled in dhrink. What +does a man know in dhrink? He can't tell his friend from his inimy. And +me that had a dacent mother in the ould counthry and a dacent wife in +the new, look at this, where it druv me." + +"What crime are you charged with?" + +"Wid breakin' and enterin', misther; and, sure, it was the stableman put +me up to it that night I was full, and they got away and I was caught +wid the watches on me and I was so shamed of Ellen and me mother at +home, says I, I'll niver disgrace them, says I, and so I gev in me name +Quirk, and none of them could tell the differ." + +"When was it you were arrested?" asked Shagarach. + +"It's three weeks and three days yesterday, misther; that I know by the +scratches I made in me cell." + +"Can't you read?" + +"Only the big, black letthers, misther." + +This explained Mungovan's ignorance of Floyd's arrest. It seemed to be +an accident that the two had never met in prison. Though they occupied +cells in the same ward, their daily work carried them to opposite parts +of the yard, Mungovan's to the harness-shop under "Slim" Butler; +Robert's to the greenhouses near the team gate. + +"Misther!" The poor wretch clasped Shagarach's wrist and drew the +lawyer's ear to his lips again. + +"Misther, will you bury me where Ellen is buried?" + +"I'll see if that can be done." + +"Misther!" The man's eyes were glazing. "Look!" He fumbled with aspen +fingers in his breast, finally drawing forth an envelope. From this he +removed a ringlet of black hair, probably a love-lock of Ellen's. Then +he showed the inclosed writing to Shagarach. It was not addressed. + +"Read it," he whispered. "Ellen gev it me to carry." + +Shagarach opened the envelope and read in a servant-girl's painstaking +hand the following words: + + "The peddler has not come for two days, so I send you this by a + trustworthy messanger. As I rote you in my last, the professor said + in the study, 'Harry gets his deserts.' That was all I could hear + only he and Mr. Robert talked for a long time afterwards. The will + is in the safe in the study. If I hear ennything more I will let + you know, and please send me the money you promised me soon." + +There was neither address nor signature to this document. + +"To carry where?" asked Shagarach, but the man's brain was all clotted +with a single idea. + +"Will you bury me by Ellen's side, misther, in the green churchyard +under the soft turf that the wind combs smooth like in my own dear +counthry? Will you bury me beside Ellen I disgraced so, misther? She'll +know I'm wid her there. Will you bury me, misther?" + +"I will. I will. Where did Ellen bid you carry the letter?" + +"The letther? Och, I carried the letther in me mouth. Sure, I wouldn't +be afther givin' up Ellen's letther to the warden." + +"I mean----" But the man was passing through the delirium that precedes +the last fainting calm. Several times his lips moved, murmuring "Ellen." +His fingers clutched the love-lock to his breast. Once he turned his +head and asked for "Father Flynn." But Father Flynn was ministering now +at another ceremony as opposite to this as laughter is to tears. + +Toward the end a smile of singular sweetness irradiated his rough face, +made delicate by the waxy color of death. Were his thoughts playing back +again among the memories of childhood, in the beloved island, perhaps at +the knee of that honest mother whom he feared to disgrace? Or were they +leaping forward to the joy of the cool bed under the churchyard daisies +at Ellen's side? Shagarach, holding the shred of paper in his hand, +brooding over the answer to his unanswered question, could only watch +the flickering spark in reverential awe. + +But he did not default his side of the pact they had made, he and Dennis +Mungovan, with clasped hands in the hospital alcove. At a great +sacrifice of time he sought out Ellen Greeley's sister, explained the +secret of Ellen's marriage and Mungovan's repentance for his follies, +and, with the help of Father Flynn, persuaded her to consent to an +interment of the couple together. He even went to the pains of +communicating the death to Mungovan's worthy mother, having obtained her +address from Ellen Greeley's sister and heir. But the circumstances and +place of the "accident" which killed him were humanely concealed. + +In return for all this solicitude the lawyer had an unaddressed and +ambiguous scrawl in his possession. Three facts were established in +relation to the person for whom it was intended. In the first place +whoever it was he knew that Harry Arnold had "got his deserts" under his +uncle's will. Secondly, he had employed Ellen Greeley as a spy upon the +doings in the professor's household. Thirdly, he was in league with the +missing peddler, who seemed to act as a go-between for Ellen and her +correspondent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE NEST-EGG HATCHES OUT. + + +"St! Bobbs!" + +The sound was at Robert's left ear. He had been dreaming of Emily +arrayed in bridal white and kneeling at his side before the altar of +joy. Uncle Benjamin in a clergyman's surplice was pronouncing a +benediction upon them. The good old custom of a nuptial kiss was about +to be observed, when the warning whisper and his prison nickname rudely +awakened him to his surroundings. The sweet vision melted into a black +reality, the wide arches of the cathedral contracting to narrow cell +walls and the loved faces of Emily and his uncle cruelly vanishing. + +"Bobbs! Do you 'ear?" + +"Yes!" Robert rubbed his eyes as if to restore the illusion and his +answer was slumbrously indistinct. + +"Count that bell." + +A distant clock was giving out two strokes faintly but with vibrations +prolonged in the silence. + +"'Ear the hother coves snoozing." + +The deep breathing of the convicts grew more and more audible as +Robert's senses became sharper and he sat up on his couch. + +"Hi 'ear you, Bobbs. Hare you making your toilet?" inquired the +facetious cracksman. + +"Yes." + +"Leave your bloomin' boots be'ind as a keepsake. We haren't +pussy-footed, me hangel." + +"All right, I'm ready." + +"Now, take out the blocks, me boy, and 'andle with care. If they falls +on your toes they might 'urt, besides disturbin' the bloomin' deputy, +which we must be werry careful to havoid, Bobbs, out of consideration +for 'is feelings. Sh!" + +A footstep was heard coming along the corridor, and the re-enforcement +of light told the prisoners that the turnkey had a lantern in his hand, +the dim gas jet at one end only sufficing to deepen the shadows in the +cells. Robert lay back on his pallet and closed his eyes till the steps +retreated. In a half-minute the turnkey would be back. He was a new man, +both Gradger and Hawkins being still on the sick list from the blows +they had received in the riot of the day before. + +"St, Bobbs, hare you ready?" + +"All ready." + +Robert had removed six bricks and carefully muffled them in his +bedquilt, leaving an aperture not much larger than the door of a kennel. +The light came nearer and nearer and suddenly he heard the cracksman +groaning piteously. The turnkey raised his lantern, approached the cell +from which these sounds issued and peered in. + +"Somebody bludgeoned yesterday," thought he. But "somebody" was standing +at the front of his cell, with his hands firmly grasping two bars. As +the turnkey stooped and brought his eyes nearer, the two bars were +wrenched out and clasped around his neck. Being a sturdy fellow, his +instinct was to struggle rather than to cry. But his struggle availed +him nothing in the surprise of the moment, with the odds of position +against him. His head was drawn down through the bars and he nuzzled a +soft substance on the cracksman's breast. Then a strange odor got +possession of his senses. He gasped, fought, gasped again, and finally +fainted away. When his writhings had ceased the cracksman removed his +lantern and laid it lightly on the floor outside. + +"Climb through, Bobbs--not that way." + +Robert had stood on the bed and thrust one leg through the aperture. + +"Head foremost, as the little feller dives." + +Robert reversed his position, and with a terrible wrenching of his +shoulders worked the upper part of his body through the opening, Dobbs +giving him loyal assistance and encouragement meanwhile. The turnkey +hanging helpless into the cracksman's cell, his body outlined against +the lantern, caused him to start back. + +"Ee's hall right. Hi nursed 'im asleep on my breast-pin. Hain't it +daintily perfumed?" + +Attached to the cracksman's breast was a large sponge saturated with +chloroform. The turnkey had inhaled this and was soundly asleep. + +"Now for running the gantlet, Bobbs." + +Dobbs' motions were lightning-like. First he laid the turnkey softly +outside, then climbed through the cell-bars, this time feet foremost, +for the cuts had been made nearly two feet apart vertically and the bars +were not set close together. Once outside, he motioned to Robert to +follow him, while he detached the prostrate man's keys from his girdle, +dabbing his nose now and then with the sponge. Squeezing them tightly so +as to avoid clanking, he coolly selected one of the largest. + +"That comes of watching Longlegs w'en the others were 'ollering," he +whispered to Robert, holding up his prize. It was the key to the door at +the blind end of the corridor, which a turnkey passing through with the +intention of going out into the yard would naturally select from his +bunch and carry separate. Hawkins' habit of swinging his keys +nonchalantly had not escaped Dobbs' observant eyes. + +"Now," whispered Dobbs, making for the blind end of the corridor. There +was no time to remove the lantern and the chloroformed turnkey from +sight. Most of the convicts were still asleep, but two or three, +awakened by the noises, started up in their night clothes and stood +behind the bars, making gestures but uttering no sound. + +Thus far Dobbs' plan had proved successful. There was no other outlet +than the one he had chosen, since the cells were backed against the +middle of the bastile and were impregnable at the rear. There remained +two strong doors in the opposite wall to force. One turn of the key in +its wards slipped the lock of the first. Before the second Dobbs waited +and listened. A rhythm of receding footsteps was heard outside. +Suddenly they seemed to cease. + +"He's turned the corner," whispered the cracksman, immediately opening +the outer door. + +"Pull the inside one to, me boy." + +Robert did as he commanded. + +"Out with you now." + +Robert preceded his confederate into the deserted yard, while Dobbs +closed the great outer gate softly and sprung its iron bolt. Pursuit +from within was thus cut off. + +"Now run, me boy." + +Robert followed, easily keeping up with his leader. As they approached +the end of the bastile, Dobbs slowed his pace. + +"Tiptoes, now," he cried stealthily working his way up to the corner of +the building, where he stood crouching as if in ambush. Their shadows +were thrown forward beyond the corner, so that the cracksman could not +get within a yard of the edge. + +"The hother cove Hi greased, but this one we'll 'ave to sponge, Bobbs," +he said, taking the sponge from his breast and sprinkling it anew from a +tiny vial. + +"'Ere ee comes a-waggin' of 'is 'ead, but this at 'is beak will set 'im +snoozin', Hi fawncy." + +The footsteps came nearer and nearer, as monotonously regular as the +ticking of a clock, but slow and heavy, as if the sentinel were a man of +size. Dobbs stood ready to spring, the sponge in his right hand, his +left free to disarm the deputy if he should present his gun. The form of +a man turned the angle. It was Koerber, the giant, whom Col. Mainwaring +had transferred from the caneshop to this less responsible duty. + +Luckily Dobbs caught him in the midst of a capacious gape, and the great +sponge stuffed into his open mouth served at once as gag and smothering +instrument. + +"'Old 'is harm," cried Dobbs to Robert, who leaped to his side and held +down the powerful right arm of the German Titan. Koerber kicked and +fought with desperation, bruising each of his assailants, but the +sponge muffled his outcries and gradually he sunk in a stupor, Dobbs, +with a strength no one would have suspected, breaking the fall of his +body and laying him gently on the ground. + +Another long application of the sponge and again he sped away. Koerber's +beat stopped at the middle of the end-section of the yard, where he and +the other sentinel must have met and saluted. But no one had come to his +aid, and when the two fugitives crossed the "left yard," as it was +called, making directly for the wall, no one impeded their progress. +Eighty yards away, near the greenhouses, the back of a deputy could be +seen marching in the opposite direction. Was this the man whom Dobbs had +"greased?" + +The cracksman had made a bee-line for the twenty-foot wall. How did he +hope to surmount such a barrier? It was as smooth as a planed board, +with hardly crevice enough at the cemented seams to give a cat's claw +footing. + +"Ere's a hinstrument of my hown inventing which I call the 'andy 'inge," +said Dobbs, removing from his bosom an iron thing coiled around with +rope. Unreeling the rope with lightning twists, he displayed for a +second a plain, strong hinge, very broadplated and sharp at the inner +angle. With a cast that no professional angler could excel, he flung +this far over the top of the wall, and drew it taut, by means of the +rope. The edges of the wall being drilled off perfectly square, the +hinge must have caught on the other side, and the security of the +apparatus as a means of ascent was only limited by the strength of the +rope. The device was as simple, yet as ingenious, as the clock-face. + +"Climb, me boy," said Dobbs. + +Robert was up in a few seconds, the rope being thick enough to give his +hands good purchase, and the cool night air and exhilaration buoying his +strength. Dobbs climbed with more difficulty and was puffing heavily +when, with Robert's help, he reached the broad top of the wall. + +"Hi'll 'ave you gazetted hensign in the royal navy, Bobbs, next time Hi +confab with 'er royal 'ighness," he smiled, his humor never appearing to +desert him. "Such climbing would do credit to a powder monkey." + +Just then, with the two figures standing on the top of the wall, a loud +clang smote the silent air. It was followed by another and another till +the world seemed awake once more. + +"The alarm bell!" cried Dobbs. "They're after us! Drop!" + +Both men were on the ground in a second, Dobbs coiling his "handy hinge" +as he led the way running. Fear lent him wings and though he panted and +his voice grew husky, he managed to keep abreast of his fleeter +companion. The prison wall skirted a long, ill-lighted alley, which +debouched in an unfrequented street. Here the houses were scattered, +barren lots intervening, and a glimpse of the river breaking into the +background now and then. It was broad moonlight, and the trees and +fences afforded little shelter to the runaways. + +Any policeman who met them would have been justified in shooting down +two men, one in convict garb, fleeing from the direction of the prison. +Doubtless Dobbs had prepared himself for this emergency, but luck +favored him here and his reserve resources were not called into play. To +left and right and left again he turned, finally climbing a low fence +and crossing a stableyard that bordered on the river. A second fence to +climb and Robert found himself on the rocky embankment of the stream. + +How dark and beautiful it was in the moonlight! "Free, and I know not +another as infinite word"--the line of the poet came back to him, and +for an instant he felt in his veins all the glory of that treasure for +which nations have thought rivers of their purest blood no extravagant +price. But there was little leisure now for meditation. The alarm bell +could still be heard sounding distinctly at the distance of a quarter of +a mile and Dobbs was peering down the embankment, which cast an inky +pall over the water in its shadow. + +Presently he whistled. An answer came, some fifty yards to the right. +Clutching his comrade's arm, the Englishman ran along the bank to the +spot from which the response proceeded. A light keel-boat with a single +occupant was moored in the gloom below, but so far below that to jump +would surely capsize her, for the tide was at its ebb and the stream had +sunk like an emptying canal lock. + +"Shall we plunge in?" asked Robert, not averse to the bracing midnight +bath. + +"'Ardly, with a four-mile row in wet clothes before us, me hangel," +answered the cracksman, "and the 'andy 'inge still lovingly clasped to +my bosom." + +Scooping out some earth at the rim of the flags which crowned the +embankment wall, he made a hollow for the hinge and threw the rope down +into the boat. The corner to which it clung had not been chiseled off +clean like the edge of the prison wall and there was some chance of its +slipping, but the risk had to be run. + +This time Dobbs descended first. Robert followed him nimbly. All through +the adventure he had reflected and even echoed the cracksman's humorous +mood, and had displayed as little nervousness as if it were a student's +lark upon which he was engaged instead of the grave crime of prison +breach. So when the hinge slipped, just as he was dangling midway, and +he fell plump into Dobbs' arm, with a coil of rope and an iron implement +behind him, he only laughed as delightedly as a high-perched tomboy +after climbing a forbidden fence. + +"Well, that gives us back the hinge," he said. "We might have had to +leave it." + +Evidently the serious-talking young radical had a vein of drollery under +his thoughtful exterior. + +"You didn't 'urt yourself?" asked Dobbs, gathering his own dispersed +members together. + +"Not a bit. You're as good as a feather bed. I'd just enjoy tumbling on +you four or five times a day." + +But Dobbs, ruefully rubbing his barked shins, only ordered the boatman +to "give way," which is nautical for "pull straight ahead," and in three +or four strokes they were clear of the embankment and out in the full +current of the flowing tide. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +ITS CHICK PROVES PECULIAR. + + +Have you never lain back at midnight in the bow of a Whitehall, with +your hands clasped behind your head and your legs lazily +outstretched--no comrades but the oarsman amidships, and the +fellow-passenger facing you from the stern, no sound but the gurgle of +your own gliding, no sensation but the onward impulse of the boat, as +gentle as the swaying of a garden swing, and the scarcely perceptible +breeze aerating the surface of the river? Then the moon has never tinted +the atmosphere for you with such voluptuous purity as it did for Robert +Floyd that night, and the sparse, dim stars have never announced +themselves so articulately as the lights of a grander city than that +whose gloomy masses and scattered lamps they overhung. Even Dobbs' +lighting of a cigar--no cosmic event, surely--did not jar upon the grand +totality. The tiny flame, drawn in and then flaring up, gave flash-light +glimpses of a face unmatched in the shrewdness and humor of its lines. + +For fully ten minutes not a word was spoken. Suddenly Dobbs' voice +snapped out: + +"The hother duds, quick, chummy. There's a bobby on the draw." + +A pair of black trousers was thrown toward him by the oarsman and Dobbs +drew them on over his prison garb. + +"Now the coat." + +He was turning his striped blouse inside out. + +"Now, let's 'ear you in the chorus," said Dobbs, who immediately set up +a sailor's song about Nancy Lee. Robert and the boatman swelled the +chorus as desired, with rollicking "Heave ho's." + +"Quit your caterwauling there!" cried the policeman above. The +pseudo-sailors at once hushed as if much frightened and rowed swiftly +under the bridge, while the policeman, satisfied with this display of +obedience, stalked along on his lonely beat. Above the bridge the river +narrowed and the banks were no longer of granite, but of arable loam +scalloped into a thousand little inlets. An hour must have elapsed and +three more bridges had been passed, when the boatman turned into one of +these coves and drove his keel against a grating sand bank. The +passengers jumped out and shook the cramp from their limbs. + +"Is that all, Mr. M----" + +A finger on Dobbs' lips checked the boatman's sentence half-way and a +nod gave the answer to his uncompleted question. Robert was not paying +attention, but when Dobbs touched his arm and led the way up to the +road, he promptly followed. By this time the milkmen and marketmen were +about. A rattle of distant wheels broke the silence now and then. The +dawn-birds trebled their matin greeting and a pearly flush located the +eastern quarter of the sky. After a few turns, Dobbs approached the side +entrance of a large house, not unlike an inn. The waiter who answered +his tap appeared to have been expecting him. + +"'Ere we are, Bobbs, me boy. 'Ere we'll shift our duds and 'ave a talk +over the breakfast victuals. Whew! Hi'm tired! Fetch a lamp, Johnnie, +into the guest chamber. We haren't clemmin' on you, we've got rocks. +Hey, Johnnie?" + +The white-aproned waiter grinned and led them into a private room with a +table in the middle. + +"The porker, Johnnie, and plenty of good hold hale with the fixins." + +Dobbs had drawn his chair up to the table, set Floyd opposite him, and +made one hand wash the other with the true gourmand's expectancy while +he gave this savory order. + +"Well, you bloomin' old milksop! Hi suppose you'll put me in your +prayers now, hey? Hey? Hey?" + +Dobbs poked Robert under the ribs in a fashion which the young man might +have resented in any but a familiar and a benefactor. Apparently his +acknowledgment of his obligation was not warm enough for the cracksman, +who began grumbling in an injured tone. + +"Thankful? Wot's thankful? A word. Hi don't want words. Words is for +magistrates and ministers and such like 'ipocrites. Hi want a mark of +confidence. 'Asn't Dobbs trusted Bobbs?" + +"Yes, he has." + +"Well, w'y won't Bobbs trust Dobbs? Are we mis-mated? Do we work at +cross-purposes? Hi need a pal, Bobbs--upon which you may remark w'ere is +the shillin' comin' from wot's payin' this piper? But there's pals and +pals! And if Hi offer my friendship to a honorable associate Hi made the +acquaintance of while we was both serving in Col. Mainwaring's regiment, +wot's Jim Budge got to say? Cut and run, Jim, says I, and much obliged +for your 'elp. 'Ave a glass, Bobbs?" + +The waiter had brought in several bottles of ale. Robert filled out a +glass of the brown, foaming liquor and poured it down with a gusto that +seemed to cheer Dobbs immensely. + +"The uniform, Johnnie, and don't overtoast the porker." + +Johnnie seemed afflicted once more with his grinning fit, for he stuffed +his apron in his mouth when he got to the door. + +"What are your plans ahead, Dobbs?" asked Floyd, nibbling a pretzel, +while the cracksman helped himself liberally to the ale. + +"My plans is Chicago. Hi'm going into business as a reformer." + +"Ha, ha; what will you reform--yourself first, I suppose?" + +"Hi'll begin on the police force. You haren't a-drinkin', Bobbs. Your +'ealth, me boy, a-standin' toast to the 'ealth of Dobbs' pal. Hip, hip, +hip-oh, 'ere's Johnnie, with the porker." + +Johnnie seemed to have caught a sharp glance from Dobbs on the +threshold, for his grin subsided and he was obsequious in his attentions +to the breakfasting pair. Dobbs accepted them as a lord would the bows +of a lackey, but Robert felt constrained to brush off the importunate +caresses which he had no means of repaying in coin. + +"If there's one meat in creation wot's sweet and savory," said Dobbs +ecstatically, digging a fork in the dish just brought, "it's a juicy +little 3-months-old baby porker, swimmin' in greens and gravy." + +Robert could hardly help smiling while Dobbs carved the young pig, +smacking his lips prodigiously meanwhile. + +"A hearty breakfast, me boy; we've a long ride before us." + +"Where to?" + +"Pitch in and don't spare the gravy--w'ere to? W'ot say to the +Hargentine Republic, w'ere you can sue for your uncle's money by proxy, +hey?" + +"My uncle's money?" + +"It's your'n, now the will's busted." + +"I don't want the money and never wanted it." + +"Then wot are you 'ere for?" + +"Only the fresh air and the trip. I thought they might do me good." + +"See 'ere, Bobbs, if you think Hi'm a-fishin' for a slice o' your +bloomin' pile, Hi'll show you Hi'm straight as a flag-pole. Them's not +the harticles of partnership Hi propose." + +"I never said they were, Dobbs." + +"But your heye says you suspect me, and it don't pay to be too +suspicious, me boy. Hi'm opposed to suspicion, bein' of a hinnocent +nature myself. 'Aven't you learned that, Bobbs, halready? 'Aven't Hi +trusted a hutter stranger with my rat's tooth and gone 'alvesies with +'im, doublin' the risk and not doublin' the enjoyment?" + +"You've placed me under a great obligation, certainly. I wouldn't have +missed this night for the world." + +"'Ere's a 'ealth to it, Bobbs--a standin' toast--and may we never bunk +in the bastile again. Hip, hip, hip--" + +"Here are the clothes, Mr. Mc--" + +The crashing of a beer bottle on the floor cut the name off at the +initial letter, and for some reason Johnnie did not finish it after he +had picked up the fragments. + +"Lay the duds on the chair, Johnnie; we haren't done discussin' the +porker." A black business outfit, including headgear and footgear, bore +witness to the cracksman's foresight. "Bring us some more hale. 'Ave a +pretzel, Bobbs (hic)." + +Bobbs was undeniably succumbing to the influence of his potations, but +Robert knew the thirst-creating properties of salted cracker, so he +declined the proffered morsel. + +"Won't break bread with me! Hi say, Bobbs, this is a houtrage--a +houtrage. W'ere'd you be this minute if it wasn't for me? Afore a tender +little juicy porker, asprawlin' of your legs under the table and +a-facin' a hail jolly Johnnie, w'ich is me? Or snoozin' in a ten-foot +kennel, with sweet dreams o' the swingin' gallows?" + +"I wouldn't be here, certainly, Dobbs." + +"You wouldn't be 'ere! That's so. A glass on the 'ead of it. Your 'and, +Bobbs, and your 'ealth. Bobbs says (hic), and Bobbs is a gemman (hic), +Bobbs says he wouldn't be 'ere. But afore we part," here the cracksman +sat down again, "Hi 'ope ee'll show ee's a gemman and not mistrust 'is +pal. Hi ain't no psalm-singer, Bobbs, me boy. Wot's more natural, with a +blank check before 'im, than for the confidential clark to facsimilate +'is marster's hautograph? Wot's the hodds? Hi'll drink with 'im hall the +same--and a glass on the 'ead of it, Bobbs." + +Dobbs was rapidly becoming incoherent and his incoherence took a +boastful turn. + +"Ho, Hi cawn't 'elp a-grinnin, w'en Hi think of old Koerber a-wakin' up +and a-roarin' for 'elp. Didn't Hi do 'im brown, Bobbs (hic)?" + +"He was no match for you, certainly." + +"Ee? Koerber? Lemme tell you there's few in the fawncy stand as 'igh as +Bill Dobbs. Wot's Jim Budge? A hordinary bloomin' safe-cracker as must +'ave a pal. Ee cawn't stand alone, no more'n one leg of a scissors, +which is the Hirish for bachelor. Barney Pease (hic) is truly great, Hi +own. For sleight-of-'and work ee 'as no superior in the three kingdoms." + +"Not even the solitary cracksman?" + +"Not even the solitary cracksman, w'ich is me. But sleight-of-'and +hisn't hall, Bobbs. It's sleight-of-'ead! Do you fawncy Barney Pease +could 'ave got you over that sky-scrapin' wall? It was Bill Dobbs' 'andy +'inge done that. Lor' bless us! We'll be famous for this 'ere night's +outin'." + +"I've a notion you'd be a bad man to cross, Dobbs, eh?" + +"Do you fawncy Hi'd 'urt you, Bobbs, me hangel? Hi wouldn't 'arm you no +more'n a wadge-dog would bark at a baby. Hi'll (hic) Hi'll protect you, +Bobbs." + +Floyd smiled at the cracksman's offer of patronage. But this time he +thought it better not to seal the compact with a bumper. + +"Not drink?" Dobbs' temper had changed again. "Won't drink and won't +give me no mark of 'is confidence--" + +"What is it you want, Dobbs? A confession?" + +"Confession? Hi? Ho!" the cracksman laughed as if the joke were a rich +one. He was far gone, as indeed any man might be after taking so many +quarts of ale. + +"Confession, ho, ho--wot do Hi want of a confession? Hi 'ad a natural +curiosity to know 'ow you set it, and"--his voice assumed reproachful +quavers--"a natural mortification to find that my pal (hic) wouldn't +trust me." + +"Well, the truth is, Dobbs--" + +"Wot is the truth?" + +"Is this house safe? Walls have ears, they say." + +"Safeazherown (hic)." + +"I'm afraid--couldn't I write it down--that waiter, you know--" Robert +walked uneasily to the door, but the waiter was not eavesdropping. + +"Waiter," Dobbs rung the bell and Johnnie appeared. + +"Bring me pen and paper." They were brought with expedition. + +"Zhall I 'old the lamp, Bobbs?" + +"It's almost lightsome enough to see, if you draw up the curtains." + +"Hi'll 'old the light, Bobbs." + +"Steady, now, you'll drop it." + +Dobbs staggered over behind Robert, with the lamp in his trembling hand +and stood over the young man's shoulder while he wrote the following +confession: + +"When you pick a lady's pocket on a railway train next time, do it with +your left hand, Mr. McCausl--" + +Before he realized what was happening the lamp had been shattered +against the opposite wall and he found himself forced to the floor, with +a cold circle of steel at his temple. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +BEHIND THE VEIL. + + +"My mother has your flowers," said Shagarach. "She would be delighted if +you would come to see her." + +It was in response to this invitation that Emily had selected an +appropriate dress from her modest wardrobe and kissed her mother good-by +for the evening. She was at first not a little alarmed when a young man +sidled up to her from behind and began uttering incoherent avowals of +devotion, which not even her chilling glance and hastened step could +check. Kennedy had disappeared for some time,--probably busy extricating +himself from his Dove-Cote scrape,--and she had congratulated herself +on good riddance of the lovesick manikin. But here he was, bolder and +more nauseously enamored than before. + +She felt like summoning a bystander to her aid, but as she was walking +close to the edge of the sidewalk, with Kennedy on the very curbstone, +this appeal for help was rendered unnecessary. A quick, firm shove with +her brave little hands sent the shadow of a man topsy-turvy into the +gutter, while Emily, with burning cheeks and quickened pulse, made on to +the car corner. + +An old Hebrew housemaid answered her ring and ushered her into the tiny +parlor of the tiny house, none too large for even the three persons who +occupied it--and three is the smallest number that can be called a +family. It need not be said that Emily was all a-flutter with the +privilege of admission to the great lawyer's private acquaintance and +that she cast a curious glance upon the surroundings. There was +something oriental about them, even to the barely perceptible odor of +musk in the air. + +The carpet was clocked in a Turkish pattern, though the bough birds +woven in the corners suggested that it came from one of the countries +further east, where the shah, not the sultan, rules under Allah, and the +admonitions of the prophet are less literally observed. The lamp was a +silver fantasy, brazed with arabesques in gold, and the furniture in its +scroll-work and the embroideries, like gossamer, all whispered of a +taste exotic and luxurious. + +Yet the articles were few and severely disposed in their places. A bust +of Swedenborg over a massively carved bookcase, filled with volumes of +royal exterior, attracted Emily's eye. On the opposite wall were several +shelves, crowded with plainer books, as tattered and dingy as a +schoolboy's algebra. A portrait of Spinoza reclined on an easel, and a +well-thumbed Marcus Aurelius, of pocket size, with flexible covers, lay +face down and open on the table. It was a far cry from the Swedish +mystic to the imperial stoic of Rome. + +"You are welcome, Miss Barlow, to my home," exclaimed Shagarach, +extending his hand and sunning her with his great warm eyes. + +"Pardon my curiosity. I am a woman and a book-lover," said Emily, who +had been standing before Shagarach's gorgeous volumes when he crossed +the threshold. + +"They are not secreted from those who can handle them without danger," +answered the lawyer, opening the bookcase. + +"I call them my meeting of the masters." + +Emily marveled at the range and judgment of the selection. Here were +Homer, Dante, Shakespeare and Goethe in the original tongues, which her +own studies just enabled her to distinguish one from the other; the +Koran, the Talmud, the Zend-Avesta; Camoens, Luis de Leon and a dozen +others from the hidalgo land; Maimonides and all the great mediaeval +Hebrews; Keats, Wordsworth and Coleridge--whatever richest remnants +remain from the cultured nations of Europe and western Asia. What rare +powers of acquisition, what hermit-like seclusion from the busy world, +were implied in the ability to read and enjoy these treasures! + +"And which are your especial favorites?" asked Emily. + +"The Persian poets," answered Shagarach, pointing to the uppermost +shelf, where the titles were in characters she could not read, +resembling odd curves of beauty and flourishes of a draughtsman's pen. +"Firdusi, the weaver of the magic carpet, who spurned back the +treasure-laden caravan of the shah; Sadi, the nightingale of a thousand +songs, planter of the rose garden and the garden of trees; Hafiz, the +sugar-lipped dervish of Shiraz, whose couplets are appealed to as +oracles by the simple, and whose legion of commentators surround him +like the stars clustering around the orb of the moon." + +Was this the criminal lawyer, the granite-lipped reasoner of the +immobile forehead, forever pacing to and fro, folding his arms in +solution of problems? + +The memory of the barren law office was vivid upon her, and of the +austere occupant, the last being in the world from whom dithyrambics +would be expected. She found it hard to reconcile the task-ridden +Shagarach with this praiser of Firdusi, the half-fabulous minstrel who +had loved to recline on silken divans, smothered with roses and waited +upon by his hundred slaves. + +"Inspect them," said Shagarach. Emily reached for the Persian shelf. The +books stuck a little, and when they came away she was surprised to find +that they were attached together in sets of five; still more surprised +when she turned them over and saw a fine chain of steel running from +edge to edge through the covers, just where the clasp of an album fits, +and meeting again in an exquisite padlock at the middle volume. All this +splendor of beauty and thought was sealed as effectively as if the pages +had been bathed in glue. + +"The keys to the padlock?" she looked interrogatively. "There is only +one," said Shagarach, a divine smile for the first time breaking the set +curve of his lips. "It fits them all, but the dragon is jealous of its +possession. My mother, Miss Barlow." + +The lady who had entered approached Emily and greeted her warmly. + +"My son said you were beautiful," she said. + +Emily blushed. She was usually disconcerted by praise, but somehow the +entrance of the mother put her more at her ease. Standing beside her +son, the lady appeared to be taller than he, though this may have been +more in looks than in inches, since the standard of stature for women is +lower. The resemblance between them was marked. It was from her that the +son inherited his beauty, for she must have been queenly in her +maiden-hood. Even now her coloring was autumnally perfect, the rich dark +skin, oxidizing like an old painting, having gained in mellowness a part +of what it had lost in brilliancy. + +"We live plainly, you see," she said, speaking with a strong accent, as +if she had learned our stubborn language too late in life ever to master +it. + +"I admire your furnishings," answered Emily, "but your library amazes me +most of all." + +The son and mother exchanged a sparkling glance, while Shagarach +replaced the Persian set on its shelf. But he did not explain the +mystery of his padlocked treasures. + +"Miss Barlow has been wondering at my taste in the poets," he said, +diverting the conversation a little. "She forgets, perhaps, that we are +orientals, a long way back. And still in my dreams at times I feel the +rocking rhythm of the camel ride and the winged bulls of the Assyrians +seem to haunt me like familiar sights." + +All at once Emily remembered that she had often divined a more emotional +and mystical side to the criminal lawyer. + +And then in a flash many things became clear to her--Shagarach's +constant repression of emotion, his frugality and tireless toil, his +shutting out of the gypsy violinist's strain that day when she brought +him the news of Bertha--all these told of some great resignation, the +ruthless division of a dual nature and the discarding of one part, +perhaps the better beloved, and the abandonment with that resignation of +almost all that was personal to him in life--leaving only the restlessly +energizing intellect, the ethical strenuousness as of a modern Isaiah, +the filial love and these sealed mementos of a more congenial but +probably less successful past. + +"And this is Spinoza--the greatest of our race," added Shagarach. "Not +the least refined of human faces." + +"My ancestors were his kinsmen," added the mother, not without pride. +"We were Spanish once and my son can claim the title of count in Spain +if he chose--" + +"And many a castle in that country besides," added the son, smiling the +rare, sweet smile which he reserved for this privacy of his home. + +"But my mother speaks the truth, Miss Barlow. She is an accurate +historian, as you see. An ancestor of mine rose to power in the court of +Ferdinand and left his wealth to two sons. The elder, bearer of the +title, chose exile when our people were harried from Spain. The younger, +by apostatizing, succeeded to his name and property, and the heirs of +that brother still survive in Valencia. That makes us feel for Spinoza, +who was also an exile--and a heretic," he concluded, in a lower tone. + +"This way, Miss Barlow," the mother led Emily through portieres into a +rear room, not unlike the parlor in its furnishings. "Here are the +flowers which you were so good, so thoughtful, to send. I have changed +the water twice every day, and last night put them out to drink in the +rain, for they love the rain from heaven, it is manna to them." The +mother fondled them as if they were living things, and gave them to +Emily to smell. They were indeed wonderfully fresh, considering the +number of days they had been kept. + +Shagarach stepped to the cleft in the portieres and excused himself to +answer a ring at the doorbell. Emily was left chatting alone in the dim +light with his mother. From flowers to other subjects of feminine +interest the transition was easy, and the old lady's vivacity, strong +sense and above all her warmth of heart made the minutes pass +delightfully for the sensitive young girl. She had not been conscious of +any unusual merit in offering Shagarach a simple bouquet, yet it had +deeply touched the lonely son and his devoted mother, both of whom +seemed to regard her now with that intensity of friendship which the +Arab lavishes upon the stranger whom he admits to his hospitality. + +It was while they were alone in the rear chamber, and Shagarach was +conversing in low tones with the visitor behind the drawn +portieres--probably a client calling in the evening--that Emily's +attention was called to a tapping noise which seemed to come from the +window. She thought it best not to speak of it, though it continued for +almost a minute. Besides, she remembered having often arisen in the +night to investigate the origin of just such a tapping, and lifted the +sash to find nothing and hear nothing, not even a departing sparrow, +who, perched on the sill, might have been feeling his way along the +transparent glass. Shagarach's mother was talking herself at the time +and probably the sound of her voice obscured the interruption. + +"Is it not pleasanter in here, mother?" Shagarach had thrown the +portieres aside and stood again in the cleft, widening it for the ladies +to pass. His visitor had been dismissed, but it was a few moments before +he recovered his earlier manner. By a graduated ascent, however, his +conversation rose to its former glow of enthusiasm, and Emily could not +help contrasting its richness and elasticity with the sententiousness, +the compressed statement, bare of all accessories, which characterized +him when at his desk in the office. Probably this was the style he had +used in addressing his caller, and the transition to and fro was not +easy. + +"'Try how the life of a good man suits thee,'" Shagarach began reading +from his Marcus Aurelius; "'the life of him who is satisfied with his +portion out of the whole and satisfied with his own just acts and +benevolent disposition.' That is the advice I gave to my visitor and +charged him nothing for it." + +"It was Simon Rabofsky's voice?" asked the mother keenly. + +"Yes," answered Shagarach. + +"Then you did wrong. You should have charged him double. He is a rogue." + +"For the emperor's wisdom?" smiled Shagarach. + +"What mischief is he about?" + +"He wishes to sell Mrs. Arnold's jewels. It is his legal right, since +she has defaulted in the payment, but I have counseled a postponement of +its exercise." + +"And will he postpone it?" asked Emily, sympathetically. + +"He? My dear, you do not know him," said the mother. "He is of the tribe +of Aaron, who worshiped the golden calf." + +Emily wondered if some of the proud Spanish blood had not become mingled +with the Hebrew in her veins. Scorn of petty avarice was betrayed in +every line of her noble face. Yet Emily felt sure that it was she who +had called Shagarach away from the companionship of the Persian poets +and impelled him to write his signet on the living world in letters of +self-assertion and honorable achievement. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +AN UNBIDDEN GUEST. + + +"What tainted people you have to deal with!" she exclaimed, +unconsciously continuing her vein of silent thought. "I should crave +another environment, I think." + +"Your Christ lived with sinners and publicans. And they are not all +tainted, my dear," added the mother, smiling so that Emily might know +whom she meant to except. "There is so much in common between my son and +Mr. Floyd. Both proud, serious, too serious, I tell him, and both true +Castilians in honor. But the one looked about wisely and found him +a--lady; and the other--" + +"The other will grow gray by his good mother's side, I fear," said +Shagarach, gently kissing the laughing and delighted old lady. Emily +smiled herself to see John Davidson's sphinx, whose reticence outside +was indeed a mask of stone, unbending thus to the frankness and +simplicity of a child. The mother's ways were more demonstrative, but +with deep reserves of dignity. + +"But you are right, Miss Barlow. The lawyer's profession is one shade +more distasteful than the surgeon's, for he handles the moral sores of +humanity." + +"Handles them to cure them," cried Emily, shifting about, like a true +woman. + +"Possibly. Though for my own part I agree with those who hold that the +law perpetrates no less wickedness than it punishes--were it not that it +prevents more than it perpetrates," he added, smiling, "we should live +in a very troublesome world. It is a profession which uses the +conscience as a whetstone upon which to sharpen the intellect. I +attribute the venality of our congress and legislatures partly to the +disproportion among them of lawyers." + +"But surely there are exceptions?" + +"In the criminal courts," answered Shagarach. Emily asked herself if +this was Shagarach's destiny, to continue as a criminal lawyer. As if in +answer to her question, he added: + +"There alone one can feel at all times that he is either protecting the +innocent or punishing the guilty. This is my working library," he +pointed to the thumbed volumes on the shelves. Emily noticed that most +of them were treatises on psychology, the old and the new. + +"I do not carry the keys for those," said his mother, gayly. + +"Light to illuminate our case," Shagarach took down one of the books. +"By the way, my correspondent, Mr. Skull-and-Crossbones, has honored me +again." + +The two ladies started and the mother seized her son by the arm. + +"A black-edged letter, apprising me that I am marked and doomed." Just +then Emily heard the strange tapping that had startled her before. It +came from the window of the front parlor this time. She shuddered in a +sudden terror and drew closer to Mrs. Shagarach. The old lady had heard +the sound and blanched a little, but her voice was firm when she spoke: + +"Is that a mouse in the wainscoting, my son?" + +"I thought it was a tapping at the window, mother." + +"Go and look. There may be a stranger in the yard." + +Shagarach raised the curtain and looked out, then opened the window. The +cool night air flowed in and heightened Emily's tremors so that the +elder lady took pity on her. + +"There is no one in sight, mother, but I will put on my hat and go out +the back door." + +In a few minutes Shagarach returned by the street entrance. + +"I thought I heard footsteps in the passageway and followed them around, +but there is no one. The yard is empty." + +"I will inform the policeman to-morrow," said his mother. "There are +many loiterers about in these bad times. And you should acquaint them +with the letter you received." + +"I have done so, mother. I have considered it strange," he added, +turning toward Emily, "that the parties opposed to us in the Floyd case +should resort to murder. It is a confession of guilt." + +"If they are caught." + +"Murder will out. Moreover, I do not work alone. I have engaged the +assistance of--whom do you think?" + +"Of Mr. McCausland," said the mother, breaking in. "It was my +suggestion." + +"McCausland investigating Harry Arnold!" exclaimed Emily. + +"Is it not amusing? But he will not allow that Arnold is at all open to +suspicion, and of course I have not laid all my evidence before him." + +"But surely the letters are connected with our case, and who else could +it be?" + +Since the finding of the glove and the testimony of the three gamins +Emily was coming around to Shagarach's view of Harry Arnold's possible +guilt and the attack on Robert's lawyer had aroused her sympathies so as +almost if not quite to convince her. + +"Mr. McCausland is very keen--a wonderful man--of deceptive exterior, +but like the rest of us, he sometimes makes mistakes," said Shagarach. +"His defect is that he uses the logical method only and ignores the +psychological. It is necessary first to find out if the accused is +capable of the crime. I first became sure of Robert Floyd's innocence +when I saw him through the cell-bars of the jail. He is incapable of the +crime." + +"My son so admires your lover," added Mrs. Shagarach. + +"These other friends of mine," continued her son, taking down the +thumbed volume which he had put back when the tapping startled them, +"commit the opposite error. They are strictly physiological. They +predict too much from a man's physical peculiarities." + +The book he opened for Emily was a treatment on criminology, illustrated +with villainous heads in profile and full face. It was in Italian, so +Shagarach exchanged it for another. + +"Behold the brands of the true criminal--'enormous zygomae,' 'ear lobes +attached to the cheek,' 'spatulate fingernails----'" + +"That takes in Mr. McCausland," said Emily, roguishly. She had got over +her fright by this time and the allusion to spatulate fingernails +recalled the whole train of events which had ended in the inspector's +discomfiture. + +"The refutation of such theorists," said Shagarach, "is simple. We need +only point to the fact that the greatest crimes are committed by men who +are not professional criminals at all and who do not belong to the +criminal type." + +"Like this man," said the mother, going to a closet at one side and +drawing forth a bundle of photographs. One of them she showed to Emily. +It was Harry Arnold, bold and handsome, with the shaggy cape coat thrown +carelessly over his shoulders. + +"Has he enormous zygomae, ear-lobes attached to his cheek?" she asked. + +"I wish I could see his fingernails," laughed Emily. + +"Arnold's face in repose does not show much capacity for evil. But it +lights up badly. I have seen him crossed and in passion." + +"I think he looks as if he were veined of evil and good," said Emily +frankly, studying the portrait long, as she loved to do. She had seen +Harry once when he was at his best. Besides, her service in the +photograph studio had made her something of a physiognomist, too, though +not, of course, such a soul-reader as Shagarach. + +"His crimes are of the preventable order and therefore the more +culpable. There are men born to crime, as the theorists argue; others +driven to crime. For both of these classes it is hardly more than a +misplaced emphasis, a wrong direction of energies." + +"Here is another volume--I am showing you all my workshop. Does it +fatigue you?" + +"Nothing which helps to clear up the mystery is dull to me," answered +Emily. + +"This treatise deals with 'Incidental Homicide.' Rather legal than +clinical. The cases are all parallel to ours. The indictment, by the +way, has just been given out. The weakest count charges Robert Floyd +with arson and murder in the second degree. The punishment for that is +only imprisonment for life." + +"Only! Robert says he would rather be hanged." + +"Let him have no fear of either," said Mrs. Shagarach, cheerily. + +"The newspapers tell us that the government offered much new evidence," +said Shagarach. + +"I should like to know what it was," cried Emily, eagerly. + +"So should I. Ordinarily, the grand-jury room is leaky enough, but Mr. +McCausland, who is the government in this case, appears to have found a +way to seal it hermetically." + +"Perhaps he padlocked the jurors' lips," suggested Emily, whereat all +three were merry. + +From time to time during the conversation relapses of the old shudder +had come back to Emily, though the tapping had utterly ceased since +Shagarach investigated the yard. He had left the curtain half-raised, so +that any one approaching the window would be visible from within. It was +just at this moment that she happened to change her seat, bringing her +face around to the darkened window. Before the others could catch her, +she had risen, pointed to the window and fallen to the floor with a +terrified shriek. + +Shagarach started to raise her, but the terrible detonation of a pistol +rung out, sacrilegiously invading their quietude. Then all was darkness, +a noise of crashing glass telling that the lamp had been shattered and +extinguished. Another report followed and another. Mrs. Shagarach, +trembling, heard her son quickly crossing to the window. The panes +seemed to be broken, and there were sounds of a scuffle, mingled with a +gnashing of teeth and growls more animal than human. Suddenly, with a +ripping sound, the scuffle ceased, and rapid footsteps were heard +pattering away. Then her son spoke to her in the loud, firm voice which +he used in all practical affairs. + +"Light the little lamp, mother. It is safe now. There are matches on the +mantel." + +"Are you hurt, Meyer?" she asked, anxiously, while lighting the lamp. + +"A little," he answered. + +"You were shot, my son?" she cried, embracing him. + +"No. Let us revive Miss Barlow. Some water, Rachel," he said to the old +servant who had come to the door. + +When Emily came to she found Mrs. Shagarach sponging her forehead, while +her son was washing his hands in a basin of bloody water. + +"Wrap the cotton around them quickly, Rachel," he was saying. "I must +notify the police." + +"Meyer, it is not safe." + +Emily heard the mother protesting, then swooned again. When full +consciousness returned the lawyer was gone and the three women were +alone in the room. Rachel began picking up the fragments of the lamp. +Only its chimney and globe had been broken, the metal being still +intact. The windowpanes showed great ragged holes, which explained the +laceration of Shagarach's hands. + +"Poor lady," cried the mother. "This is ill treatment we give you. But +we are not to blame. It is the wicked enemies who are pursuing us +all--your lover and my son." With terms of endearment she petted the +weak girl back into a coherent understanding of her position. But every +now and then the remembrance of something would cause her to shudder +again visibly; whereat the elder lady would renew her caresses. + +"I have notified the policeman. That was the best I could do," said +Shagarach, re-entering. He looked extremely grave. It was a narrow +escape for one or more of the three. "This is all I have to identify +him by. It was detached in the struggle." + +He laid a common coat button down on the table, with a piece of cloth +adhering. + +"That face! Who could ever forget it?" cried Emily. + +"You saw him, then?" asked son and the mother in one breath. + +"Shall I call it 'him'? Was it a man?" answered Emily. "Rather a +monster, no more than half-human." + +"It had the form of a man," said Shagarach, "as I felt it through the +glass." + +Rachel was busy bandaging his cuts with plaster during this +conversation, but they bled through, calling for the surgeon's thread. + +"But it snarled like a tiger," said the mother. + +"Oh the wild, blue eyes! They were staring at me through the cleft of +the draperies. And the demon leer, and the forehead, retreating like a +frog's----" + +"It is the oaf I passed on the pier," cried Shagarach, interrupting +Emily. "We have found Mr. Skull-and-Crossbones." + +"Oaf? What is oaf?" asked the mother. + +"An idiot, a monster." + +She shuddered. + +"A man of that description cannot long elude search," said the son in a +more hopeful tone. + +"They are often very cunning," replied the mother. + +"Can it be Harry Arnold would employ such an agent?" asked Emily, still +trembling. + +"Twice," said Shagarach, as if speaking to himself. "A cap and a button. +Men have been captured on slighter clews." + +"You will give the button to Mr. McCausland," said the mother. + +"Yes; since it fits with the cap." + +"Maybe he will help you to bring Harry Arnold to justice." + +"And so to acquit Robert Floyd," said Shagarach, smiling to cheer his +guest. + +The mention of her lover restored the wilted girl, who was brave enough +when there was anything definite to be done. Shagarach showed her the +book on "Arson" which he had been holding when the first shot was fired. +The bullet had pierced it on its career toward the lamp. + +"The bullets will be evidence also," he said, "and I will measure the +footprints before the rain comes down and washes them away." + +"You will wish to go home, poor child," said Mrs. Shagarach to Emily. +"Not yet, but soon, when you are stronger. Rachel!" + +The soothing words of the mother warmed Emily quite as much as the wine +which Rachel brought. Meanwhile two policemen entered and began to +examine the premises. Shagarach visited the yard in their company and +soon returned with a tape measure and a paper block, on which he had +recorded the lengths of the footprints. + +He was assiduous in his regrets and inquiries toward Emily and insisted +on accompanying her home in a carriage, which the mother, however, would +not allow them to enter until she had exacted from her visitor a promise +that she would come again on an appointed evening, and pressed upon her +in true oriental fashion a certain rose-embroidered gossamer scarf for +which Emily had expressed admiration. + +At her own door the sweet girl heard Shagarach order the hackman to +drive to Dr. Lund's, and she guessed that his cuts would be somewhat +worse for the delay in stitching them. That night she saw gorgon faces +leering in at her window, and her dreams were of new-moon scimiters and +the rocking of the camel ride. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +JACOB AND DELILAH. + + +"Put your wrists together!" + +The voice was totally different from Dobbs' whine; a strong, deep +register, like a ledge of the basal rock peeping out from a smiling +meadow. For the first time Robert felt the veiled strength which resided +in the detective's character. There was no option but to obey. + +"Pull up the curtains, Johnnie." + +The servant had been attracted by the crash of the lamp. A faint stream +of daylight entered the chamber, and the noises of the city could be +heard in the distance. McCausland's face seemed to have altered in every +line. + +"Get a hack! Jump into those shoes!" He tossed a curt order right and +left, one for Johnnie, the other for Robert. + +"To the county jail," was his direction to the hack driver. Robert +wondered at this, but he sat back smiling and said nothing during all +the ride. + +"Here's your prisoner," said McCausland when they arrived. It was not +yet 6 o'clock, but the sheriff was up and showed no great surprise. +Robert wondered at this again and his amazement was not abated when they +assigned him to his original cell in murderers' row. However, the change +was to his liking, for the surroundings were less presageful of +permanency. + +"You missed your vocation as a character actor," was his parting shot at +McCausland. + +It is easy to imagine the dismay in the prison that morning when the +escape was discovered. Col. Mainwaring was a very different man from +Warden Tapp, and for a time it looked as though McCausland might lose +his badge. But when he showed an order from the sheriff empowering him +to bring the body of Robert Floyd from the state prison back to the +county jail, which had now been put in repair, Col. Mainwaring saw a +light; and when McCausland pointed out that he had laid his finger +precisely on certain weaknesses of the bastile, frequently suggested +without avail to Tapp, the new warden thanked him pleasantly. + +The story at first was given to the public that Inspector McCausland had +captured the fugitive, Robert Floyd, and for a time not only did the +detective's cap wear a bright new feather but all the credit of Robert's +conduct during the riot was canceled by this outbreak, which was +construed as a confession of guilt. But of course the truth leaked out, +and the failure of his "nest-egg game," with its brilliant but desperate +climax, was made the occasion of much chaffing to the contriver. + +"Has Bill Dobbs been taken yet?" a brother-in-buttons would ask him; and +the two lovers had many a good laugh over the game which they had played +and won. For the first time since the great shadow fell across them they +were as happy and hopeful as lovers should be, and for several days +little smiles of reminiscence would creep into the corners of Emily's +lips while she was touching out the blemishes in some negative destined +to pass from young Amaryllis to her Strephon or old Darby to his Joan. + +Meanwhile Shagarach, too, was interesting himself in the study of +photographs. + +"Have they all been returned?" he asked Aronson one morning. + +"All but Meester Davidson's." + +"And none of the neighbors saw Arnold coming out?" + +"They all shake their heads and say no, they don't know that face." + +"Very well. Jacob may put them in his desk. We shall hardly need them +again. Go over to the second session and answer for me in the Morrow +case. I am expecting Mr. McCausland." + +"Speak of angels," said the inspector, entering cordially. "You know the +rest of the saying." + +"Good-morning. Be seated." + +It did not escape even modest Saul Aronson what a contrast the +antagonists made, sitting with the table between them. McCausland had, +apparently, not glanced around with more than casual interest, yet, if +blindfolded then and there and put to the test, he could have surprised +those who did not know him with the minute and copious inventory of the +office, not excluding its occupants, which this glance had furnished +him. It was this, with his almost infallible memory, which made him so +formidable an opponent at whist. Shagarach was hardly his equal in mere +perception, perhaps not his superior in analysis, when the subject was +within McCausland's range. His advantage lay, if anywhere, as he had +said himself, in his deeper insight into the human soul, in his +psychological reach. + +"Sorry I was out when you called the other day," said McCausland. "I've +been looking up your matter." + +"With what result?" + +"These clippings may interest you." + +Shagarach glanced rapidly over the newspaper scraps. + +"The Broadbane murder--I remember that well." + +"It occurred about a week before your first attack. You remember +Broadbane lured the young woman to a lonely bridge in his carriage and +threw her into the river." + +"The circumstances were similar to my adventure. The second item is +strange to me." + +"It's from a New York paper, dated July 28--the very day before your +second attack. The circumstances are closely similar this time again. A +jealous husband shot his wife through the window of her room." + +"Our monster reads, then." + +"He is a lunatic (puff)," said McCausland, who had lighted his +invariable cigar. + +"You believe so?" + +"The evidence convinces me. They have an itch to imitate, as you are +aware. This man is a victim of homicidal mania, of which you have +unfortunately become the object (puff)." + +"Why Shagarach and not another?" + +"Newspaper notoriety. You should see my crop of cranks. This particular +crack-brain has aimed his illusion at you. We must strait-jacket him +before it goes further." + +"You expect, then, to have him soon?" + +"Sooner or later (puff). Let us know if you hear anything. I see you +were hurrying off as I came in. Good-day." + +McCausland had been deputed to investigate the attacks on Shagarach, +because they connected themselves so manifestly, through the threatening +letters, with the Floyd case, which he was handling. Neither he nor +Shagarach had objected to this opportunity to meet and possibly force +each other's hands a little. + +"I shall be in the Criminal Court, second session, Jacob. Remain here +till Mr. Aronson comes." Shagarach was gone and Jacob left alone to his +meditations. + +To judge from his expression, they were never very pleasant. Perhaps, +like Job of old, he daringly questioned the power behind human destiny, +why he showers cleverness and attraction on one boy of 14, while another +is afflicted with a manner of nose preposterous, conspicuous and +undistinguishable, to carry which is a burden. That godlike young man in +the photograph, how he would like to be as handsome as he! Was there no +way to attain it? He took the bundle of photographs out of his drawer +and laid them on his desk to study and admire. + +While thus engaged the jingle of harness outside attracted him. He knew +by the sound that the carriage had stopped before his door. It wasn't +often that equipages, sprinkling sleigh-bell music in their course, +paused at the door of the dingy old business building. So Jacob became +interested enough to approach the window of the inner office languidly +and peep down into the street. + +There stood a covered black carriage, as polished as a mirror, with a +buff-liveried coachman holding the reins. His seat was perched so high +that his legs made one straight, unbending line to the footrest, and his +back was as vertical as a carpenter's plummet. Mrs. Arnold was not +careless of these niceties. It would have shocked her sense of the +fitness of things almost as much to publish the fact that her coachman +had knees, as if her own lorgnette should stray from the proscenium box +higher than the first balcony--an impropriety which had happened only +once to her knowledge, and that by inadvertence, on an opera night. + +"This is Mr. Shagarach's office, I believe," said the grand lady to +Jacob. + +"Yes'm," he mumbled, abashed. + +"He is out, I perceive. Does he return soon?" + +"No'm." + +"About when could I see him if I should wait?" + +"He is trying a case'm, over in the second court'm, criminal session," +answered Jacob, mixing things badly in his confusion. + +"Couldn't you send for him?" + +"Mr. Aronson will be here soon. Perhaps he would know." + +"I will wait a few minutes," said the lady, sitting down with hauteur in +the cushioned chair which Jacob pushed toward her. After a spell of +silence she addressed him again in a gentler tone: + +"What is your name, little boy?" she asked. + +"Jacob," he answered. Servants and office boys grow to think of +themselves as having only one name. + +"Jacob. That is a very old and dignified name. Are you Mr. Shagarach's +clerk?" + +"No'm." + +"His errand boy, then?" + +"Yes'm." + +"It's too bad you had to leave school so young. I suppose you give all +you earn to your mother?" + +"Yes'm." + +"Haven't you any father?" + +"No'm." + +Jacob thought he had never met such a kind lady. How sympathetic she +seemed and was it not gracious of her to inquire about his father and +mother? How much more agreeable it was to deal with real ladies and +real gentlemen who never, never would call vulgar names. He would have +given almost half his week's spending money to oblige this sweet-tongued +lady then, and his only regret was that he could think of no better +answer to her questions than "Yes'm" and "No'm." + +"If you are an errand boy perhaps you could do a little errand for me," +said the lady sweetly after a pause. + +"Yes'm," answered Jacob, putting a world of eagerness into the word. + +"You are sure you can do errands and not make a mistake?" + +"No'm--yes'm," he replied, a little puzzled as to which of the two words +which seemed to constitute his whole vocabulary fitted into his meaning +here. + +"Then, perhaps, I will let you take this for me." + +She drew out the tiniest, daintiest purse Jacob's eyes had ever beheld, +and, opening its clasp, gingerly fingered forth a bill. + +"I want very much to have this changed. Mr. Shagarach will not be back +immediately, you say?" + +"No'm." + +"Then perhaps you can spare a moment to run down to the corner and get +some silver for this." + +"They'll change it upstairs," said Jacob, at last finding his voice. + +"Upstairs? Very well, you may take it upstairs and bring me back small +silver, Jacob." + +With a skip of elation Jacob mounted the stairs. There was a little +delay in the mission, to which he had repaired. When he came downstairs, +the silver clutched in his hand, his heart rose to his mouth at +discovering that the office was empty. To think that he had kept the +kind lady waiting so long! Probably she had become disgusted with him. +He stood a moment in perplexity. Then glancing at his own desk, he +opened his mouth in horror. + +"My pictures!" cried Jacob. The photographs were gone. + +If there was one being that Jacob reverenced and feared it was his +master. To feel now that he had betrayed him at the prompting of a grand +lady, who deceived him with honeyed words and was undoubtedly one of his +master's enemies--how could he ever face Shagarach again? + +"My pictures!" he cried a second time, running into the entry. But here +at the head of the stairs a dubitation seized him. Shrill and re-echoing +through the narrow passage came the flute-like warble which Jacob knew +only too well. It was the precursor of torment for him. True, the +Whistler himself had almost ceased to pick on the office boy and even +taken him under his wing of late, but Turkey Fenton and Toot Watts were +as implacable as inquisitors turning a heretic on a lukewarm gridiron. + +Turkey's tyranny was of the grosser order, as became an urchin who in +Jacob's presence had swallowed a whole banana, skin and all. Toot's +nature was subtle and spiderlike. He possessed the enviable distinction +of being able to wag his ears, and his devices of torture were +correspondingly refined and ingenious. During the last visit of the boys +he had played a small mirror into Jacob's eyes all the while behind +Shagarach's back, and it wasn't until they were going out that Jacob +discovered why he had been dazzled almost to blindness. + +If he took the stair route down he would be stopped and teased and the +wicked lady would get away. Perhaps she was already gone--gone with the +photographs which should have been securely locked in his drawer. Why +had he ever taken them out? + +The emergency was desperate and Jacob met it heroically. Rushing to +Shagarach's window, he saw the grand lady just crossing the sidewalk and +waving her parasol to the coachman. In a moment she would be ensconced +on the cushions within and the disaster would be beyond remedy. The +window was open, and there was a little piazza outside. Jacob stepped +out and shouted. The lady looked up and hastened her pace. Leading down +to the first story from the piazza was a flight of steps, and from the +first story down to within twelve feet of the ground, another--an +old-fashioned fire-escape. + +Down these steps Jacob scrambled, scratching his hands and nearly losing +his balance, to the first piazza and thence to the lowermost round, +where the awful fall of twelve feet checked him. But the sight of the +coachman mounting his box nerved his courage and he released his hands. +For a moment he felt dizzy. But the horses were already started. With a +flying leap he caught the tailboard in his hand, and after being dragged +along with great giraffe-like bounds for nearly a block managed to draw +himself up to something like a sitting position. + +There, through an eye-shaped dead-light in the back of the carriage he +obtained a dim view of its occupant. His master's stolen pictures were +in her hand. What was she kissing them for--and crying? But Jacob was +determined to have no pity upon her. He had just resolved to call out +and demand her attention, when the crack of a lash made him turn and his +lip began to tingle. The coachman had discovered his unlawful presence +on the tailboard and had reached him with just the tip end of his whip. + +Probably he had meant only to frighten the lad. If so, he had thoroughly +succeeded. Again the whip curled backward over the coachman's shoulder +and snapped like a pistol shot close to Jacob's ear. To add to his +discomfort a great St. Bernard, which had been running under the +carriage, had become aware of his intrusion, and began rearing at him in +a manner more alarming than dangerous, to be sure, but sufficient to +make a peaceable lad tremble. Between the whip and the dog's teeth his +ride had begun to be worse torture than the gantlet of the stairway, +flanked by the three gamins, would have been, when the ordeal was +brought to a sudden end by the stopping of the carriage at a great brick +railroad station. + +Jacob's time had come. Disregarding the St. Bernard, he jumped down and +stood on the sidewalk. The dog growled and the coachman spoke to him +roughly as he opened the door with practiced alacrity for his mistress. +But Jacob was now within his legal rights. + +"I want my pictures," he said, catching the grand lady by the arm. Mrs. +Arnold looked down at him with amazement not unmingled with fear. It was +the same stupid little boy she had bribed to go upstairs in the office +where Harry's photographs had been lying--for no good purpose, her +instincts told her. + +"What does this little ragamuffin say?" she asked. + +"I want my photographs," said Jacob, doggedly, as the coachman shoved +him aside. He ran after Mrs. Arnold, the tears in his eyes, and clung to +her dress. A scene was imminent. The policeman approached, doubtless to +render assistance to the lady in distress. But Mrs. Arnold did not +desire his assistance just then. With a quick motion she removed a +parcel from her pocket and placed it in Jacob's hands. + +"Take back your things, then, and don't bother me," she said, with a +flushed face. + +Jacob gloated on his recovered treasures. Then his hands likewise sought +his trousers pocket, and he jingled a handful of silver into Mrs. +Arnold's hand. + +"Take the money, Joseph," she said to the coachman. "These small +storekeepers are so ill-mannered." + +The policeman gave Jacob a hard look as he passed him, but the office +boy was obliviously counting his pictures. + +When he returned to the office the gamins were gone and Aronson was +there alone. To Aronson's question where he had been, Jacob, not being +an imaginative boy, gave an answer which was strictly truthful, +whereupon Aronson, not being a humorous young man (for such are always +grave), laughed immoderately, and proposed that the fire escape +henceforth be known as Jacob's ladder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +CUPID TAKES AIM. + + +"Mother, my friend, Miss March." + +Mrs. Arnold came forward on the rose-embroidered veranda. An old look +crept into her face. Her brow darkened. Her heart froze. But love +conquered jealousy, and for Harry's sake she took both hands of the +young woman whom she knew he loved, and smiled. + +"And Mr. Tristram March." + +"Welcome to Hillsborough. Will you not come inside?" + +"Let's sit on the veranda," said Harry, throwing himself on a seat. +"It's cooler here." + +The others became seated and submitted their foreheads to the cool +caresses of the breeze. + +"I enjoy your road from the station so much, Mrs. Arnold. It winds like +a river all the way," said Tristram March. + +"A narrow river, I fear, and rough in parts," answered the lady. + +"Do you know I like a soft country road. It seems padded for the horse's +hoofs," said Miss March. + +"Rosalie is a philanthropist, you know. She is vice-president--one of +the vice-presidents--I believe there are nineteen--of the ladies' league +for the abolition of race dissension in the south by the universal +whitewashing of negroes." + +"Mrs. Arnold knows better than to believe that." + +"A chimerical plan, I should call it," said Mrs. Arnold. + +"Not at all," added Tristram. "Most scientific. The whitewash is +indelible. All charity fads must be scientific nowadays." + +"Brother Tristram plays the cynic, Mrs. Arnold," said Rosalie. "But he +has an excellent heart of his own." + +"It is a burned-out crater," said Tristram, solemnly, at which Harry +burst into a laugh and the sister smiled. + +Watching her furtively, Mrs. Arnold saw that she was as exquisite a +masterpiece as nature had ever put forth. Her figure was virginal and +full; her manner, auroral; her age, Hebe's, the imperceptible poise of +the ascending ball before it begins to descend, which in woman is +earlier by a decade than in man; her coloring, a mixture of the wild +rose and gold. Art seconded nature; she was faultlessly dressed. In that +instant of inspection the mother knew that her son's heart had been +weaned from her forever. She had always felt that it would be a blonde +woman. Are they charged with opposite magnetisms from northern and +southern poles, that they attract each other so, the dark type and the +fair? + +"Will you never be serious, Tristram?" cried Rosalie. + +"Well, dear, the crater has humming-birds' nests built along its inner +sides, like the old volcano of Chocorua, and the little winged jewels +flash out sometimes and land in Sister Rosalie's lap." + +"What is this?" + +"You prefer rubies. I picked those up at a sale in the city. Did you +ever meet such stones--perfect bulbs?" + +"How can I ever rebuke you again?" + +"Then I needn't try to be serious?" + +"Oh, if it's a bribe----" + +"Look at the name on the plate behind--'Alice.'" + +"That will have to be changed," said Harry, coming nearer to glance at +the brooch. "Why!" he snatched at the jewels, but caught himself in +time. His mother looked at him in an eloquent appeal for silence. + +"Where did you get them?" he asked. + +"Rabofsky. An old bric-a-brac man. Why, do you fancy they're stolen?" + +"Oh, no. I congratulate your sister. The name made me start. It is my +mother's, you know." + +"I was Alice Brewster," said Mrs. Arnold. + +"Speaking of philanthropists, Rosalie," said Tristram, to change the +subject, "how did you like the noble Earl of Marmouth?" + +"The most overbearing person." + +"With the courtesy of a snapping-turtle," said Tristram. + +"And the humor of a comic valentine," added Harry. + +"Still there is something grand about the title of earl," said Mrs. +Arnold, who chose to forget that the original Brewster of Lynn was a +yeoman. + +"Mme. Violet interested me more," said Rosalie. "Rumor is linking their +names, you know. I feel that she and I might become friends." + +"She has just the saving spark of deviltry that you lack, Rosalie." + +"It isn't every brother who can call his sister an angel so happily," +said Mrs. Arnold. + +"Nothing was farther from his thoughts than to compliment me, Mrs. +Arnold. You should hear him abuse me in private. I am a philistine, a +prude. But I grow accustomed to his taunts." + +"Dear Rosalie, you are only not esthetic because you are so divinely +moral. Just think, she objects to my marble cupids, that they are not +ashamed of their innocence." + +"Surely that is going far," interposed Harry, who had long been silent. +"The modeling was capital. Most little cupids are just doughy duplicates +of each other. But yours have character--baby-face wisdom--Puck and +Ariel linking arms." + +"Say two Pucks, Harry, or Rosalie will moralize. Ariel was a wicked +little sprite. He used to go on bats." + +Rosalie lifted a finger of reproof. + +"But from my standpoint a dash of wickedness is just the sine qua non in +art. How fascinating the Inferno is! And how tame the Paradiso! In art, +do I say? In religion itself? What the horizon line is to the +landscape--a rare pageant you have before you, Mrs. Arnold--such is the +fall in the garden to the faith of our fathers." + +"Do you mean that it separates earth from heaven?" laughed Harry. + +"You would think, to hear this grumbler, it was his strait-laced sister +and not his own laziness that prevented him from--" Rosalie hesitated. + +"From amounting to something. Say it out. Ah, Rosalie, you have indeed +achieved. Your Rosalind is divine, Carp says--and surely Carp knows." + +"And Portia," added Harry. + +"While my medallions----" + +"Would be glorious if they were ever finished. But come," continued +Harry, "I must dress for my wager. Where's Indigo?" + +"He is about the house, Harry." + +"What a name! Your valet, I suppose?" asked Tristram. + +"And secretary. That is, he answers my duns." + +"And so spares you the blues?" + +"Punning again, Tristram," said Rosalie. "And you profess not to +consider word-plays respectable." + +"Right, always right, Rosalie." + +The party passed inside, and the Marches were escorted to their rooms, +while Harry went in quest of Indigo. When he returned he found his +mother alone in the front room. She seemed to be awaiting him. + +"The rubies, mother?" + +"They were mine. Sit down, Harry. I must speak with you." + +Her manner was sad, and Harry thought in the strong light her face +looked careworn. + +"We are very much pressed for money--temporarily, of course. As soon as +your uncle's estate is settled our income will be larger than ever; and +even without that, Mr. Hodgkins has hopes----" + +"But mother, you did not sell the rubies?" + +"I have sold all my jewels, Harry." + +Harry stood up. His mother gave him a long look. She had made this +sacrifice for him. He understood and colored when he remembered the fate +of the money his mother's rubies had brought. It was luck alone which +had saved their name from a blot on the evening when McCausland raided +the Dove-Cote. + +"I must curtail my expenses," he said, rising to go. + +"There is another matter, Harry," said his mother, still sadly but +gently. "I saw Mr. McCausland in town today. He desires you to testify +at your cousin's trial." + +"Testify against Bob!" + +"It is in relation to the will--the disinheriting of your cousin." + +"Why, he admits that himself." + +"He may deny it if his conviction hangs upon that point Mr. McCausland +wishes to leave no weak link in the chain." + +"Hang it, mother, I don't want to be mixed up in it. Think of the +looks." + +"All he wants is a word. You heard your cousin say he was disinherited +under the will." + +"Yes, that is--why, of course, I knew it. He told me at the jail that +day." + +"Then I will write to Mr. McCausland that your testimony covers that +point----" + +"No, but mother----" + +Rosalie March re-entered at this moment. Her first glance was toward +Harry and his toward her. Their thoughts had been traveling the same +route and meeting half-way all during the talk on the veranda, when +Harry was so unwontedly silent. Alas, he knew well that he was unfit +even to look at her. + +In their outward demeanor to each other he was embarrassed and she +reserved. The religious difference seemed likely to be permanent. For +Rosalie was a Catholic, the daughter of an eminent Maryland family, as +historic and proud as the Brewsters and more wealthy than even the +Arnolds. But this barrier between them only acted with the charm of a +material fence over which or through which a rustic couple are plighting +forbidden troth. + +"All ready to win my wager," cried Tristram, following his sister in. +He, also, had changed his attire, and looked very handsome in his +curling Vandyke beard of the cut which artists affect. + +"What wager is that?" asked Mrs. Arnold. + +"We passed the river coming down, and I offered to canoe the rapids." + +"And the river so low, Harry. It is rash." + +"Would you have them set me down a boaster?" Harry was eager now. His +mother knew "them" meant "her," and her heart yearned more and more to +the son who was drifting away. + +"Indigo!" he cried out the window to his valet. + +"But the danger--was it not there the canoeist was drowned last year?" +said his mother, anxiously. + +"Hang the danger! It's the prospect of scraping the bottom off my new +canoe that troubles me." + +"Old age is privileged to prate, I suppose," said Mrs. Arnold, feebly +attempting to smile. + +"Cut the fingers off that lemon-colored mitten, Indigo, and get me some +salve double quick. My oar blister's worse than ever." + +Indigo sped up stairs for the scissors, and the party was soon on its +way. + +At the bridge Harry left them, proceeding alone to the boat-house, +up-stream, while Indigo led the others to a rock below the rapids, where +they were to witness the feat. To look at the long slope, nowhere steep, +but white from end to end with foam, it did seem incredible that any +craft could live through such a surge. The murmur was audible far away +in the still countryside, and the air, even where the three onlookers +stood, was moist with impalpable spray. + +"Looks as though that wager was mine," said Tristram. "He might as well +try to swim Niagara." + +"Ought we not to have a rope in case of accident?" said Mrs. Arnold. + +"By all means," cried Rosalie, and for an instant the two women were one +in sympathy. + +"Indigo," said Mrs. Arnold, "go over to Farmer Hedge's and procure a +stout rope. If anything should happen----" + +"Nothing will happen," said Indigo. But he obeyed her command, and +departed in the direction of the nearest farmhouse. The moments were +long drawn out with anxiety before he returned, until at last even +Tristram's sallies could not draw a smile from the two ladies. So he +coolly took out a pad of white paper, sharpened his pencil and sketched +off the rapids. + +"There he comes," cried Rosalie, peering up-stream. + +"Harry!" murmured Mrs. Arnold, as her son rounded a bend of the river +into view. Already he was coasting down without using his paddle. His +brown arms rested on the handle before him and his muscles, seemingly +relaxed, were tense for exertion. + +A great log which had preceded him down had been whirled around like a +chip and finally submerged, reappearing only in the clear water forty +yards beyond. A similar fate surely awaited the light cockleshell which +bore the beloved life. + +As his canoe half-turned, Harry pushed his paddle into the water. +Evidently it met a rock, for the prow righted at once and swept down a +narrow channel where the rush was swiftest, but the foam seemed parted +in two. Here again it caught, poised and spun around. It was fast on a +ledge, and the young athlete was straining every sinew to push it off. +While he was struggling in this peril, Indigo came down, staggering +under a coil of thick rope. + +"Indigo," said Mrs. Arnold, excitedly, "throw him the rope." + +Indigo stood on the bank, but instead of obeying, ran farther down to a +rock that jutted over the clear water where the rapids ended. On his way +he heard the ladies shrieking. + +"His oar is broken." + +"But he has worked himself free," said Tristram, nonchalantly sketching. +"He will win, confound it! Yet it's worth losing once to see that play +of his right deltoid." + +Harry's paddle had indeed broken in the last successful shove, but it +was a double blade, and the half in his hand was used to good advantage. +As he came sweeping down, his eyes intent on the prow before him, +Tristram raised his hat and the ladies leaned forward, waving their +kerchiefs. Harry answered their salute by standing up in the boat. It +was a superb piece of bravado. + + * * * * * + +"He doesn't always wear a glove canoeing?" asked Mrs. Arnold of Indigo. +Harry had just put ashore an eighth of a mile down stream. + +"No, the mate to that one's lost," replied the valet, "and Mr. Harry +told me to cut it up for his hand." + +"When lost and where?" said Rosalie. + +"I don't know that." + +"Let me tell you." + +"What a sibyl!" exclaimed brother Tristram. + +"It was on Broad street, the afternoon of the fire. Don't you remember, +when we saw him crossing the street so hurriedly and I remarked he had +only one glove on." + +"You must be mistaken," said Mrs. Arnold. "Harry was ill at home all +that day." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +MATER DOLOROSA. + + +Honora Riley, who washed for Mrs. Barlow, lived in a ramshackle, +desolate district of the city which was appropriately known as "the +Barrens." Colliers, sooty to the eyerims, trudging home; ashy +dump-pickers; women cowled in drab shawls from beneath whose folds +peeped pitchers brimmed with foam like the whipped surface of the milk +pail, but the liquor was not milk; such were the sights Emily noticed +when she called at Mrs. Riley's to inquire whether it was a spell of +illness that had prevented her from coming to wash that Monday. + +"Come in," a feeble voice answered her knock. "Oh, is it you, Miss +Barlow?" + +Emily saw that the supper on the table, laid for two, was untasted, and +that the eyes of the woman who sat on the chair clasping her knees +before her, were red. + +"We thought you might be ill, Mrs. Riley," she said. + +"It is heartsick I am, and too broken-hearted to work, dear. Land knows +I have good reason or I wouldn't fail your mother." + +"It isn't the pneumonia again, I hope." + +"Shame and loneliness have come upon me in my old age," said Mrs. Riley, +wiping her tears with the corner of her tidy apron. "They've taken +Walter away." + +"Who took him away?" + +"The officer came with a warrant this morning--and he my only child, and +the kindest boy to his mother, with no harm or wickedness in him at all, +at all." + +Walter was Mrs. Riley's only child, the last of seven. All the others +had preceded their father to the grave, narrowing the resources of the +little family with continual illnesses and funerals. Finally her husband +himself, an honest roofer, had been fatally injured in a fall and had +passed away, kissing the six-months' infant who would never know a +father. This was long ago. For this child the good mother had provided +by her willing labor, and he had grown to be her pride and hope, a +promising boy of 14. + +"'It was a bicycle he stole,' said the officer, 'away out in the +country.' 'But I never meant to steal it, mother,' says Walter, and the +boy was that truthful he never lied to a soul that breathes. 'I never +meant to steal it, mother,' he says," repeated Mrs. Riley softly, her +grief overmastering her. + +"Did you say Walter stole a bicycle?" asked Emily, a vague reminiscence +coming back to her. + +"It was the bad company I warned him against, especially that Fenton boy +and Mrs. Watts' little imp that has more tricks in him than a monkey. +'Keep away from them, Walter,' says I, but no, he would choose them for +companions. And 'tis old Bagley, the junkman, I blame most of all. Upon +my word, I believe he put them up to the trick. What would three little +boys travel out to the country like that for, and ride away on three +bicycles and then sell them to Bagley?" + +"Walter sold it, then?" said Emily, thoughtfully. + +"Indeed, Walter did not. 'Mine is safe and sound in the club-room,' says +he; that's Lanty Lonergan's back kitchen he lets them use for a meeting +place. 'It's in the club-room,' says Walter, 'and I wouldn't sell it, +mother, but I was afraid to give it back; only I never meant to steal +it.'" + +"That I believe, Mrs. Riley, for I saw him take that bicycle." + +Mrs. Riley's tears stopped flowing for a moment in her surprise. Then +Emily related the story of her trip to Hillsboro and the conversation of +the boys which she had overheard, not forgetting to explain her own +share in frightening them away. + +"So perhaps by my officiousness I converted an innocent prank into +something more serious," she concluded. + +"If it was the price of it only, I'd give double that, and land knows +I've no stockingful, like some that go to the city for help, for I'd +rather rub my knuckles off than beg," said the good woman. + +There was a piece of old carpet stuffed in one window-pane, adequate in +summer, no doubt, but hardly impregnable to the winter winds--and Emily +judged from the table before her that more than once the mother and son +had sat down to a Barmecide feast, in which the imagination had to be +called on to help appease the palate. So it was by inheritance that the +Whistler came by his aversion to Shagarach's charity. + +"I think it strange Walter and I have never become acquainted." + +"Indeed he knows all your goodness to me." + +"Is he still at school?" + +"Graduated this year, and his masters recommend him for the +best-tempered boy and as innocent--but full of the old Harry, like his +father, that would always be dancing, even with seven children between +him and his youth." + +"What a pity if he should turn out bad now after you've made so many +sacrifices for him." + +"Oh, for the sacrifices, Walter's willing to take his share. With his +paper route he would bring me in sometimes $2 a week, and there was +nothing he wouldn't do, distribute handbills, deliver baskets in the +meat-market on Saturday nights. Look, here's the shoeblack's kit he just +bought. Come in, Miss Barlow." + +Emily entered the small side room which completed Mrs. Riley's suite. + +"There's the blacking-box. Bought it himself with his own savings." + +"But he was too changeable. I should think he would have done better to +stick to one thing." + +"That's what I told him. But you know how a boy is fickle-minded. 'Get +me something good, mother,' says he. There's the little cradle I rocked +him in that I kept all these years--" Emily herself could hardly check +her tears at thought of the mother rocking this empty memento. + +"His Aunt Mary gave it to me--not that we couldn't afford it--plenty and +to spare I had when my husband was alive, but it wasn't lucky to buy a +cradle for your first baby, she said, and so I rocked them all in hers, +and now six of them are in heaven with their father, God ha' mercy, and +Walter, all that was left me, is in the lockup this night with the bad +people." + +Walter's little room was bare but not squalid. A knockabout suit hung on +pegs at one side, and a washbowl stood on a cheap commode, like a +prophecy of cleanliness in the occupant. + +"Don't worry, Mrs. Riley. Since I helped Walter into this scrape, I am +bound to help him out of it." + +"Heaven bless you, if you can save my Walter--and I know you would try +if you knew him. The lovingest boy, full of mischief like his father, +but he'd give the blood out of his heart to a soul in trouble. Oh, well +I knew he had something on his mind all these weeks. For he wouldn't run +up stairs two steps at a time, as he used to, and whistle so that it was +sweeter and louder than a cage full of canaries. When I heard him +whistle low I knew it was something troubling his mind. 'Yes, mother, it +is,' says he, but that was all I could get out of him." + +"Suppose I bring a very great lawyer to be his counsel," said Emily, +deeply moved by the lonely mother's sorrow, and haunted, too, by a dim +remembrance of the central face among the three gamins--a frank +boy-face, with red lips and cheeks. "Wouldn't he stand a better chance +of getting off?" + +"Just as you say, Miss Barlow," answered the sad woman, brightening a +little. + +"He is very busy, but I feel sure that he will attend to this if I ask +him. I'll see him to-night. Don't brood over it too much and never mind +about the washing. I will have Mr. Shagarach call at the station and +talk with Walter, and then let you know. Good-night." + +"Good-night and bless you," said Mrs. Riley, holding the little +candlestick high at the landing. Emily picked her way down two crazy +flights of stairs and a doorway barred with sprawling children on to the +sidewalk. "While we wink, the lightning may have flashed," was a motto +she had copied out of an old book of maxims and embroidered into her +life; so, without taking time even for a wink, she hailed a passing car +that would carry her near Shagarach's house. + +Not all that Mrs. Riley had said of her boy, the Whistler, should be set +down to a mother's partiality. Mischievous Walter was, if the +unquenchable avidity for excitement which reigns at fourteen entitles a +boy to such an aspersion. The five hours' rigid confinement at a school +desk especially provoked him to perpetual fidget, and no teacher had yet +been found who could make him buckle to his books so long. Yet he was a +favorite with one and all, less because of his deft hand at the drawing +lesson than because of the real salubrity of his nature, which made him +exceptional among the slum children who were his fellow-pupils. + +To these very schoolmates Walter figured as a hero, an Admirable +Crichton, invincible at all games and master of most things worth +knowing for boys. There was no swimmer of his age could equal him in +grace or speed, and his dive from the top of the railroad dock was +famous in local annals. So was his successful set-to in the brewery yard +with Lefty Dinan, the Tenth street cock-of-the walk. + +Yet for all his proficiency in the art of give, take and avoid, Walter +was the least combative of boys, being, as his mother said, "loving" in +disposition. The great gray Percherons with shaggy fetlocks, that drew +the fire-engines, knew this, and admitted him to a brotherly +comradeship, bowing with delight when he patted and stroked them. +Mechanics found him handy beyond his years, and often employed him at +odd jobs. For he had a carpenter's eye for short distances and a +surveyor's for long, and there was no tool that did not fit his fingers. +If he had run away to join the circus last summer, that was not the +unpardonable sin. + +Shagarach heard Emily gravely. + +"An important witness for our cause," he answered, when she had +finished. "We surely cannot suffer him to be thrust into prison." Emily +knew that it was unnecessary for her to press the matter further, so she +spent a brief evening in conversation with the quaint, affectionate +mother, rarely alluding to the Floyd case or the mysterious oaf who had +so alarmed her in that oriental room. + +The following noon she ran down to the jail to see Robert, +half-expecting to hear him playing the violin which she had sent him the +day before. Robert's own Stradivarius, with all his other personal +effects, had been destroyed at the fire, so Emily, having begged the +sheriff's permission, had pinched herself to buy him a new one as +richly toned as her slender means could purchase. Her own instrument was +the piano, whose keys turned to silver beneath her touch, and it had +been in the ensemble classes of the conservatory that she and Robert +(through Beulah Ware) first met. When Dr. Silsby, the botanist, who had +just come home from the west, called yesterday, she had insisted on his +taking the violin to Robert, without betraying the giver's name. +However, Robert's corridor (murderers' row, the name made her indignant) +was silent when she approached it, and she searched his cell vainly for +a violin box. + +"Dr. Silsby has been to see you, Robert?" she asked, after the greetings +due from sweetheart to sweetheart. + +"He came in yesterday to cheer me." + +"His usual method of cheering, I suppose." + +"Oh, yes, said he had never expected me to outlive uncle; I always acted +so much older than he did," laughed Robert. + +"He is such a droll tease," said Emily, who never could be brought to +admit that Robert was overserious for his years. + +"But I made myself even with him before he went. He promised to read an +article I had written while in prison, and took the manuscript under his +arm, little suspecting what was in store for him. You know how he abhors +my social heresies." + +"And the article was----" + +"My 'Modest Proposal for a Consumers' Trust,' socialistic from kappa to +kappa. How Jonas will writhe! The last words he spoke were a thrust at +my 'fad.' Yet every letter-carrier and uniformed employe I meet," added +Robert, returning to his natural gravity, "contented and useful, +convinces me more and more that the world is moving toward +co-operation." + +"But the reading will be torture to Dr. Silsby." + +"It ought to do him good. How hard that lumper works!" Several negroes +were staggering down the corridor, shouldering huge sides of beef for +the jail cuisine. "And in fifty offices within a radius of a mile men +are receiving large salaries for dawdling at elegant desks two or three +hours a day." + +"There are no sinecures at $10 a week," sighed Emily, drawing upon +experience for this generalization. "But did Dr. Silsby have nothing +with him when he called?" + +"I believe he had--a violin box." + +"Just so," said a cheerful voice behind them; "a violin-box, and forgot +to leave it. You see I had the jacketing of that birch tree so much on +my mind," it was Dr. Silsby himself, "everything else slipped out. You +remember my speaking of the birch tree, Rob?" + +"At least seven times," answered Robert. + +"Cruelty, Miss Barlow, positive cruelty. That fine silver-birch in the +jailyard--you saw it, I suppose, coming in--all peeled and naked from +the ground as high as my reach. Wanton cruelty. Think of the winter +nights. It will die. It will die." + +One of Jonas Silsby's eccentricities was his keen sympathy for arboreal +life, to which his rugged nature yearned even more than to the delicate +products of the flower garden. + +"I complained to the sheriff. There ought to be an ordinance severely +punishing the barking of trees." + +"Don't they fine the boys who mutilate foliage in the parks?" asked +Emily. + +"Fine! Horsewhip them! Rattan their knuckles! I'd teach them a lesson or +two! The young barbarians! Well, cut it short, thinking of the trees, I +forgot your violin. So last night I ordered a jacket made, good canvas +cloth, that'll interest you, Rob, if you haven't forgotten all your +botany in your wild----" + +"How did you like my essay, Jonas?" asked Robert, mischievously. + +"Quackery! A poultice to cure incurable diseases. Bah!" + +"But you brought the violin to-day?" asked Emily, smiling. + +"Yes, with the canvas jacket. You see it's Miss Barlow's present----" + +"What!" cried Robert. + +"There! Thunder! I've let it out. She was going to blindfold you and let +you guess the giver." + +"And the violin is in your vest pocket, I suppose?" asked Emily, +innocently, on the brink of a peal of laughter. + +"The violin! Jupiter!" exclaimed Dr. Silsby, thunderstruck. "It's a box +of bulbs. I thought they were rather heavy." + +Emily and Robert had a merry time over the botanist's absentmindedness, +but he insisted that the original fault lay with the young barbarians +who had upset him by unbarking the birch tree. + +There was little news to exchange except the arrest of their "important +witness," and the lunch hour at best was only sixty minutes long, so +Emily was soon forced to make her adieus and leave Robert with his +second best friend. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +EMILY STRIKES A MATCH. + + +Beulah Ware called that evening to talk over their plans for a trip to +the provinces, which Dr. Eustis, the Barlows' family physician, had +imperatively ordered for the wasting girl. Could he have looked into her +brain while she was preparing to retire in her chamber, and seen the +velocity of the thoughts which were coursing through it then, he would +surely have lengthened the weeks to months. + +"Would the will be upheld?" she asked herself. Dr. Silsby's oral +evidence was strong in its favor and Shagarach had spoken hopefully of +late. The least that he could expect was a postponement until the trial +was concluded. Since the evening she spent at his house, the lawyer had +applied himself, if possible, more sternly than ever to the case, and +his manner was more than ever that of a man repressing all lightness of +spirit to make room for weighty thoughts. + +What a mesh they were all entangled in. Shagarach as well as Robert, +with the monster reaching again and again at his life! And +McCausland--she hated his eternal smile. As if this business of life or +death were a comedy for his amusement or the display of his superfine +powers. She had begun to doubt whether their triumph over the false Bill +Dobbs had been as genuine as they first supposed. + +"A lie will travel a league while truth is putting on his boots," old +John Davidson had said, shaking his head, when she described the +adventure to him. And the result had proved him right. Although the +truth leaked out, the original impression that Robert had really broken +out of prison was never quite corrected, and of course it did him no +good with the public. + +In spite of herself, Emily could not help feeling that both these +powerful minds were overreaching themselves by their very fertility and +keenness, like the colossus of old, which tumbled by its own huge +height. For the hundredth time she set their theories before her, trying +to imagine how a jury would look at them. + +Her rambling drowse naturally brought back the whole trip to +Hillsborough and her conversation with Bertha. She tried to recall every +word that the housemaid had uttered, rendered doubly precious, as it +seemed to Emily, by the impossibility of consulting her again until the +trial. What she had said of the previous fire especially struck Emily +now. She tried to form a vivid picture on the curtain of darkness which +surrounded her of that fatal study. The books all upright on their +shelves, the canary bird singing, the waste-basket, the slippers under +the arm-chair, and the dressing-gown thrown over it, the dog--suddenly +Emily's heart stood still. She started up in bed and sat on its edge. + +A minute later she was feeling for the match-box. As she stood before +the mirror, her image came out slowly, slowly, emerging by the +sulphurous blue flame. Lighting the gas, she drew the curtains. The bark +of a watchdog broke the silence, or the footsteps of tardy home-comers, +and now and then the shrill, faint whistle of a distant steamer, +ocean-bound. But her ears were closed to outer impressions. She snatched +at a volume of the great encyclopedia which she kept in her room, and, +sitting on the bed, laid one knee across its fellow for a book-rest. In +this posture she read eagerly, then exchanged the volume for another, +and that for another, until she had ranged through the entire set and +peeped at every letter from Archimedes to Zero, with long and very +attentive stops at many curious headings. It was after 1 o'clock when +she turned out the light and nearly 3 when her brain stopped buzzing. +Next morning she limped in her left knee where the heavy encyclopedia +had rested and her eyes were dull at their work. + +The idea was so bold, so novel, that she waited a day before submitting +it to Shagarach. Beulah Ware was her first confidant. Beulah took it up +enthusiastically, and was for developing it farther before giving it out +at all. But Emily judged this secrecy unjust to her lawyer, and, +besides, was eager to know his opinion. He listened with interest to her +"maybes" and "might bes" and commented in his usual tone of conviction. + +"There are a great many 'ifs.' You depend entirely upon Bertha, and she +is not at hand. When she does appear it will be so late that you will +have little time to work up your idea. This is not said to discourage +you; only to point out the obstacles you must surmount. By all means +follow out the thought." + +This was not the worst that Emily had feared, although she understood +that it meant "There are at present only two theories, McCausland's and +mine. Those are the horns of the dilemma between which the jury must +choose." Seeing that she did not reply, Shagarach turned the subject +toward Walter Riley's case, which was more serious than his mother +knew. + +The robbery of the bicycles was only one of a series of thefts which had +been traced to this youthful "gang." In the club-room at Lonergan's, not +only the Whistler's bicycle, which he had refused to sell, but a store +of cigars, whisky, cheap jewelry and ladies' pocketbooks had been found, +and the junkman, Bagley, was under arrest for acting as a "fence" to the +thieves. + +Walter asserted his innocence of other thefts, and also his ignorance of +all the articles excepting the bicycle, which they had urged him to +sell. His refusal to do so was corroborated by Turkey and Toot. On this +very head he had had a falling out with the crowd and had ceased to +visit the club-room, but, although it was frequented by as many as +twenty youngsters, some of them half-grown men, no one had dared to heed +Bagley's suggestion and dispose of Walter's abandoned property. + +"Riley's act at its worst was no more serious than breaking a window or +plucking pears from the tree. With your help he may get clear and be put +on probation." + +"Oh, must I testify?" asked Emily. + +"Next Monday the case will be heard. You can be of service to the boy. I +shall recommend short terms for Fenton and Watts." + +Emily promised to be present. While she was returning to her studio old +John Davidson overtook her in his carriage. She was glad to meet his +kindly glance again and accept his proffered seat, especially as she +espied the manikin, Kennedy, crossing the street in her direction. It +was only a few blocks to her destination, but before they arrived she +had poured out her new theory to the marshal, as if he were her father. + +"Don't you think it's possible, Mr. Davidson?" she appealed to him, +craving a morsel of sympathy. + +"Possible? Of course it's possible," he answered cheerily; "I've met +things a hundred times stranger myself." + +But Emily's heart sunk a little, for she saw that he only spoke so out +of kindness and that he did not really believe in her idea. And from +that day she followed Beulah Ware's advice and hardly mentioned it, +except to Beulah. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +McCAUSLAND'S AMMUNITION. + + +It is no wonder at all that Emily Barlow should have come to regard +Inspector McCausland as the villain of the drama in which she was taking +a part. Although whenever she tried to formulate his theory of the case +it seemed to her too frail to hang a kitten by, yet she had moments of +doubt in which his great reputation and clean record of victories +oppressed and appalled her. And these moments were rendered frequent by +a quality which McCausland seemed to possess in common with other +satanic characters, his ubiquity, in which he was only surpassed by Mr. +Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. In justice to McCausland, however, it should be +stated that he did not make a practice, as the manikin did, of writing +bi-weekly billet-doux. + +The first time the detective's shadow fell across Emily's path--after +her discovery of his identity--was on one of her visits to Senda Wesner. +Who should be coming out of the bakeshop but chubby Richard in person? +His bow was gallant and his smile serene. + +"My weekly call," he said, stopping to chat for a moment. "A sociable +little magpie, that one," jerking his thumb toward the bakeshop girl. +Emily thought this uncomplimentary. From Miss Wesner she gathered enough +to lead her to suspect that he was trying to connect the peddler in the +green cart, who was certainly no peddler and who had eluded all pursuit +thus far, with the slamming of the rear door, which must have been done +by some one else than Floyd. + +A few days later she had called at the office of the Beacon, the +newspaper for which Robert wrote special articles, to obtain some papers +from his desk. The desk was indeed there, but all its drawers had been +removed and the managing editor explained that they might be found at +the office of Inspector McCausland. + +Twice she had met the inspector climbing Shagarach's stairs, but passing +by the lawyer's door and mounting to the top story. The second time she +had heard his voice in conference with a throaty falsetto she thought +she knew, and the black mask of Pineapple Jupiter, appearing at the head +of the stairs, confirmed her suspicions. Without scruple she entered the +mission herself one day and expended all her arts to pump the old negro. +The moment McCausland's name was introduced, however, his loquacity was +checked of a sudden, then took dizzy flights of irrelevance. + +"Oh, dese chillun, chillun," cried Jupiter, puttering away at a broken +pane, "dey done gone break my winders." + +"The stout, ruddy gentleman, I mean," persisted Emily, but Jupiter was +so absorbed in his hymn tune that he did not hear her. + +Sharper heads than Emily's had failed to force McCausland's hand when he +chose to shut it tight. The newspaper reporters, whom no ordinary walls +can bar, had bestirred themselves to secure for an inquisitive public +the "new evidence" that the government had presented before the grand +jury in the Floyd case, but absolutely without avail. Where such +experienced allies owned themselves beaten, the gentle maiden might +surely do so without dishonor. + +As Shagarach foretold, Bertha had been spirited away. Mrs. Christenson, +the intelligence offices, the Swedish consul, the Lutheran pastor, were +all visited and revisited by Emily, especially since the new inspiration +seized her, but none of them knew the address of the housemaid since she +left Hillsborough that morning on an outward-bound train. The only rumor +of her whereabouts was that vague report, coming from the bakeshop girl, +which Dr. Silsby had set out to investigate. + +With regard to the Arnolds' coachman, who had driven their carriage on +the day of the fire, Emily considered Shagarach to be curiously +indifferent. He had promised to subpoena the man for the trial, but that +was all. Yet his testimony was crucial, since he must know whether Harry +was with his mother in the vehicle. + +This was a peculiarity of Shagarach's, in which he differed again from +McCausland. Though he prepared his defense with consummate painstaking, +when it came his turn to prosecute an unwilling witness, he seemed +satisfied to know the truth in his own mind, relying upon his genius to +extort a confession during the cross-examination. With a perjurer before +him he wielded the lash like a slave-driver, and perhaps he was +justified in this case in omitting a rehearsal which would only put the +Arnolds on their guard. + +But Emily's greatest disappointment came in what seemed to her the one +weak point of Robert's defense, the axis around which the entire +prosecution revolved. Time and again she had conferred with Shagarach on +the subject of her lover's reverie after the deed. To think that he +could not remember a face he had seen, an incident, a word spoken, +during those four hours--nothing but a vague itinerary of the afternoon, +which came out with difficulty each time, and the course of his own +meditations, which, to tell the truth, was clear and copious enough, but +worthless for the purpose. + +At her last visit to the lawyer's home he had entered into this more +deeply. Apparently the method of attacking the enigma, which he had +hinted at possessing from the very first, was now ripened. For he loaned +Emily a ponderous volume on "Diseases of the Memory," and asked her to +bring in all the evidence possible showing the mutual affection of +nephew and uncle, not failing to wear the water lily from time to time, +as he had suggested before. But she was not satisfied with this, and, +knowing Robert had visited the park, spent one whole Sunday making a +tour of that district, questioning each of the gray-coated policemen. + +At last she had found an officer who recollected "something of such a +young man as she described." He "couldn't swear to it," but "had an +idea he noticed him." In fact, his recollection grew vaguer and vaguer +the more they tried to make it specific, and to Emily's chagrin, when +they brought him to the jail, he asserted positively that Robert was not +the man. This disappointment was sharpened tenfold by her meeting +Inspector McCausland, passing out of the corridor, arm in arm with a car +conductor. + +"I am certain that was my passenger," the conductor was saying. To have +her own failure and McCausland's success thus brought into contact +accentuated both and gave Emily a miserable day. + +The case of the old chemist was not so bad, and besides, was none of +Emily's doing. John Davidson, the marshal, had taken up Shagarach's +theory of Harry Arnold's guilt with remarkable zeal and had borrowed one +of the photographs, so as to see if he could be of use. One day he came +in, greatly excited, and asked for the lawyer. + +"Got some evidence that'll surprise you, brother," said the marshal. + +"Then it must be extraordinary," answered Shagarach. + +"What do you think that young rascal did?" + +"Who?" + +"Arnold. Went to a chemist, a friend of mine, fellow-townsman, too, +Phineas Fowler, and bought a big heap of combustible powder, a day or +two before the fire. Sprinkled it over the whole room, probably." + +"He wasn't so foolish as to leave his name, however?" + +"Oh, Phineas knew the photograph. Spotted him right away when I fetched +her out. Lucky I took it now, wan't it? 'That's the man,' says Phineas." + +"I believe I have your friend's address already," said Shagarach, and in +two or three days he was paying a long-delayed visit to Phineas Fowler. + +Amid the compound odor of chemicals sat a shriveled pantaloon, with a +long, thin beard whose two forks he kept pulling and stroking. Shagarach +was about to state his business, when a stranger at the window came +forward and interrupted him. + +"The young man who bought the combustion powder was identified in jail +yesterday," said Inspector McCausland, smiling. "It was only Floyd, on +that matter of the bomb." + +That matter of the bomb! Perhaps it would be harder to explain than +Emily thought. + +But McCausland was not always out beating the bush for evidence. +Occasionally the mountain went to Mahomet. The reward of $5,000, which +Harry Arnold had advertised, drew a dribbling stream of callers to the +inspector's office. There was the veiled lady, who had seen the crime +with the eyes of her soul, and would accept a small fee for a +clairvoyant seance, and the lady with green glasses, whose card +announced her as "Phoebe Isinglass, metaphysician." The moderation of +her terms could only be accounted for by her scientific interest in the +matter. She asked only $1,000 if she proved Floyd insane, $500 if she +proved him sane, and $100 (merely as a compensation for her time) if the +case baffled her skill. + +Prof. I. Noah Little, the conchologist, paid McCausland the honor of a +call and even brought his whelk-shell with him. With this occult +instrument at his ear he had been known to make the most remarkable +prophecies, declaring to gullible girls the names of their future +spouses, and even portending the great snowfall of May 21 in the year +1880. + +As for suggestions by mail, the office porter's spine grew bent with +emptying the waste-basket which received them. Hypnotism was the +favorite explanation with a large majority of the correspondents, +followed by a somnambulism and various ingenious theories of accident. +The pope and the czar were named as authors, and the freemasons were +accused in one epistle of a plot to burn up the ocean with some +diabolical explosive, to procure which they had all sold their souls to +the devil, though what this had to do with the Floyd case was a greater +mystery than the fire itself. + +Out of all this chaff the inspector sifted a solitary grain. One morning +he was joking in the office with Hardy, Johnson and Smith, three of his +brothers-in-buttons. Hardy handled sneak-thieves and shoplifters, +Johnson swindlers of a higher order, such as confidence men, and Smith +the gangs of forgers and counterfeiters. They were all, like McCausland, +common-looking men. This enabled them to slouch through life quietly, +taking observations by the way. + +"Well, Dick," said Johnson, "I hear you've been appointed +confessor-general to Col. Mainwaring's sinners." + +This was received with a hearty laugh, for they were a jolly four, these +men of iron. + +"That arson case is a puzzler," put in Smith. "Why didn't you send a +bottle of the smoke to Sherlock Holmes?" + +"With a blank label," added Johnson, "for the incendiary's name." + +"Would he notice such an A B C riddle?" laughed Hardy. + +"A lady for Mr. McCausland," announced the mulatto policeman, and the +brothers-in-buttons quickly found other business. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +HONEY, NOT WITHOUT STING + + +She looked so timid and demure, with the blue straw bonnet which framed +her sweet face, the red band lettered in gold, "Salvation Army." + +Eyes, lifted slowly, of deep, dark blue, and the level brows laid over +them for a foil. Beautiful eyes, we male observers say in our rough, +generic fashion, but the finer perception of our sisters discriminates +more closely. Not the iris alone makes the beauty of eyes. Lashes long +and thick, lids of bewitching droop, brows penciled in the bow curve, +any of these may be the true feature that starts our exclamation of +delight. But in Miss Serena Lamb (as the girl gave her name) nearly all +these marks were blended, and they overhung a feature which used to be +fashionable and is still, when perfect, divine--the rosebud mouth. + +She might well be timid in those surroundings--revolvers and handcuffs +to right of her, medals and canes to left; shutter-cutters, winches, +chisels, diamond drills, skeleton keys, wax molds, jimmies, screws, in +the glass case in front--an elaborate outfit of burglar's tools, the +trophies of McCausland's hunting expeditions, for the inspector's +specialty was burglary. On one side the portrait of the true Bill Dobbs +looked out from the center of a congenial group, and a tiny plush case +kept the file made from a watch-spring with which the famous Barney +Pease had cut his way to liberty. All this was formidable enough in +itself, to say nothing of the huge bloodhound that lay half-asleep, with +his jowl on the hearthstone. + +"I thought I ought to tell you," said Miss Lamb, modestly, "although it +may not be of importance." + +"And yet it may," said the inspector, politely. "We often work from the +merest trifles." + +"It concerns the fire in Prof. Arnold's house." + +"Ah!" + +"You know our labors often bring sinners back to the fold and many of +them insist on unburdening their past misdeeds to us. It is very +distressing to hear, but it seems to ease their consciences." + +McCausland mentally registered a great broad mark in her favor. She had +not begun by asking for the reward. + +"One day a young convert of ours came to my house and spent an hour with +me. We sung hymns and conversed, and I truly believe he has heard the +word. Hosanna! Alleluia!" + +McCausland fidgeted a little at these transports, but the sweet face in +the blue bonnet kept him respectful. + +"I am young," she hardly looked 18, "but I strove earnestly with him +that night. Moved by the spirit, he told me a guilty story, which I put +aside until reading about your case stirred my memory, and I felt in +duty bound to relate it. Alleluia!" + +"Proceed, Miss Lamb." + +"The young convert had been in his early days a locksmith and a great +sinner before the world. One day a stranger proposed to him a reward if +he should enter a certain room and open a safe which it contained. The +temptation was great and he yielded, for he was poor in the riches of +earth, and knew not then of the treasures of heaven. Alleluia! Praise! + +"Weakly he consented to accompany the stranger, and on a certain Sunday, +during the early hours of evening, suffered himself to be led into the +room, where he found himself alone with the stranger. It was the name of +this man and the description he gave me of the room which led me +afterward to think that his action might have a connection with your +case." + +"What name?" + +"Robert Floyd." + +McCausland took a cigar from his pocket and bit off the end. + +"And how did he describe the room?" + +"A library, he said, with a bird cage before one window and a desk in +the corner." + +"And the safe?" + +"He could not open it at first, but tried again and again. Something +alarmed them, however, or so I gathered. For you must know his accent +was very hard to follow and--and"--(Serena blushed)--"he was very much +agitated while he told me. But I gathered that they were interrupted and +put off their wicked work." + +"I must see this young convert. He may have sinned to good purpose that +time." + +"There comes the strange part of it. Since he made the confession I have +not seen him again. He has not come to our meetings, as he used. Perhaps +he has fallen back into the evil ways of the worldly minded. Perhaps the +wicked ones have punished him." + +"The description is certainly similar," said McCausland, shutting his +right eye, so as to fix more keenly on his visitor's face the other, +which was the one reputed microscopic in its powers. + +"So it seemed to me, reading the papers, which are full of profane +sayings, alas! But where sin is there must be the workers in the +vineyard." + +"I am glad you read them and you did well to come. But--do you know the +convert's name? Without some clew, I fear----" + +The young girl hesitated awhile, then answered: + +"Aronson!" + +McCausland started. It was not a common name. + +"A young man, you say? And spoke with an accent?" + +"Yes, slightly." + +"Can it be Shagarach's man?" said McCausland to himself, reaching for +the city directory. "There was something shady about his record." Then +he rung a bell. + +"Have the criminal docket looked up about four years ago for a case +against one Aronson--larceny of an overcoat, I believe," he said to the +mulatto officer. + +"That was all," said Miss Lamb, arising to go. + +"One moment," said McCausland, running his forefinger up the directory +page. "Was his first name Saul?" + +"I don't remember. I remember very little about him." + +"'Saul Aronson, law student.' Let's look farther back," said McCausland, +restoring the 1895 volume to the shelf; "'94, '93, '92, '91," he drew +out the last. "It would be queer," he said to himself, "if Floyd's +junior counsel should turn out to be an accomplice." + +"Aronson," he read aloud. "Isaac, Jacob, Marks--Saul! 'Saul Aronson, +locksmith'!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +A BACK-STITCH. + + +This was how Aronson made the acquaintance of Serena Lamb. One day there +resounded through the Ghetto (where Aronson lived) the pounding of a +violent drum. Tum, tum, tum! Tum, tum, tum! Tumtyty, Tumtyty! Tum, tum, +tum! And every now and then its bass companion marked the ictuses with a +cavernous "Boom!" Then Moses and Samuel ceased their buying and selling +for a few moments and the coats, vests and trousers which draped their +window-fronts swung idly in the wind. And the little Samuels swarmed +from their hiding-places till both curbstones were fringed two deep with +humanity, eying the musical invaders. For the notes of the bugle burst +out after this percussion prelude and a mixed choir of voices lifted a +strange refrain. + +Motley singers they were! Shabbily dressed men, with exaltation in their +faces, and women of all ages and types, uniform only in their costumes. +Raising the song, they clapped their hands together, like bacchants or +chorybantes dashing cymbal on cymbal in the ecstasy of the dance. But +such bacchants! Bacchants in blue bonnets, like grandmother's sundown! +Bacchants with pure faces of undefiled girlhood! Bacchants with +crone-faces all wrinkled and yellow! And away at the rear, chanting with +might and main, though bent nearly double under the bass-drum which +rested on his back, proudly marched Pineapple Jupiter. + +Frowns gathered on the foreheads of Moses and Samuel when the import of +this procession became clear, and many a portly Rachel clucked warningly +to her brood. But youth is frivolous and inquisitive even in Israel; so +the square was jammed with onlookers when the army set up its standard +in the very heart of the Ghetto. True, not all these were children of +the tribe. The slurred consonants of the Italian, vainly trying to +smooth and liquefy our rugged tongue, were heard; the muffled nasals of +the Portuguese; the virile drawl of the Celt; and a youthful accent +which seemed to be a resultant of all this polyglot mixture. And to +these others also the army was an abomination even as to Samuel and +Moses. + +Therefore, when the music ceased and the army formed in a wide ring with +hands joined sisterly and brotherly, a great pandemonium took up and +prolonged the last note of the dying bugle. The cock crew, the cat +called and the bulldog barked at these devoted soldiers. But they only +blessed their enemies and danced round and round as if rejoicing at +persecution. Whereat the multitude fringing their circle danced with +them, too, and staid Saul Aronson, who was passing, found himself +whirled perforce in a maelstrom of larking boys, full-grown hoodlums and +petticoated hobbledehoys. + +When the first sister stepped forth to give her "testimony" the face +beneath her bonnet compelled silence. Her voice was gentle, her figure +petite. Her eyebrows lay across her forehead straight and dark, and she +spoke from a rosebud mouth. No wonder the nearest onlookers leaned +forward and the idlers on the outskirts inclined their heads to one side +and hollowed their hands at their ears so as to catch the utterance +which promised so fairly to their eyes. + +To Saul Aronson it was a vision of paradise. The lashes of her modestly +drooped eyes lay in dark half-moons on her cheek, but once when she +lifted them a blue light seemed to flash down into his very heart; and +that organ, amorphous before, grew suddenly crystal--a great blood-red +ruby which he longed to lay at her feet. This was what she said, this +lily of the morass: + +"I give thanks to the Lord,"--her utterance was slow, her shrill voice +pierced the stillness, "that He has led me away from my sins." + +"Alleluia!" murmured the chorus. + +"That He has poured into my heart the grace of His love and made +manifest the wonder of His works. Are ye weary, sinners, weary of the +way ye tread? Oh, come to the true way, where ye shall find life and +light and joy and peace, as I have found it." + +"Bress de name ob de Lord!" said Pineapple Jupiter, loudly. Whereat +several tittered and a discreet sister whispered "Hush!" + +"It is not to-day for which we live or the things of to-day--not for +bread, or for gold, or for fame, which are perishable things. Not for +to-day nor for to-morrow should we strive, but for eternity! Not for the +approval of men, but of Him who is the just Judge everlasting. Holy! +Holy! Holy!" + +"Alleluia!" murmured the chorus. + +"It is written in the word, which cannot lie, that the keys of the +kingdom are given to Peter. Therefore, when ye go forth to the labor of +your days, ask yourselves not what will men say, but what will Peter say +when I knock at the golden door for admittance. Will he welcome me as a +true child or will he spurn me to the outer darkness? Ask yourselves +this, oh, sinners, each and all. What will Peter say, Joseph? What will +Peter say, John? What will Peter say, Christian soul?" + +This conclusion seemed to be the refrain of a hymn which the circle took +up: + + "What will Peter say, Christian soul, + When the last great trumpet sounds?" + +The trombone here drew forth a sepulchral note, representing, no doubt, +the trump of doom, and Saul Aronson could almost feel its vibrations in +the earth beneath him. He could have pummeled the irreverent knot of +gamins who mimicked it grotesquely. Such courage, such loveliness, such +sincerity, imposed reverence even for opposite opinions. Never before +had he seen their performance in such a light as now. For performance it +was. One after another of the brethren stepped into the circle and +recited "testimony" to the jeering crowd around. Each testimony was +followed by a hymn, in regular alternation. Not even the curiosity about +the different sisters and brothers could prevent this evangel from +becoming monotonous. So the captain varied it with more and more +ecstatic exhibitions. + +"Volunteers to clap hands!" he would call and four or five brothers +jumped into the middle, clapping hands to the verses of a simple hymn, +repeated ten or fifteen times. Brisker and brisker the tempo became, +till the captain and his volunteers found themselves galloping around +the ring, with sweet bonneted faces eagerly chanting their +accompaniment. Aronson marveled but he did not sneer. For his gaze was +on the rosebud mouth, whose "Alleluias" (adapted from his own liturgy, +he knew) seemed to him the sweetest music mortal throat ever gave forth, +the distilled honey of sound. + +After more than an hour of such missionary effort, the captain called +for a show of converts. "Hands up, all that have the love of the Lord in +their hearts!" + +Two seafaring men and a darky had the courage to show their palms, and +they were standing very near the circle. + +"How many souls love Jesus who died on the cross?" + +Aronson, still at his post, felt a traitorous gladness when a dozen more +of the crowd gave the signal of assent. This meager harvest of souls was +the result of their labors. Then Pineapple Jupiter again bent his back +under the heavy bass-drum, and the army reformed. Tumtyty, tum! Tumtyty, +tum! Tumtyty, tumtyty, boom! The ringing bugle revived the languishing +interest of the mob. One Jew of the Jews followed the music for nearly a +mile. When he finally fell to the rear the rosebud mouth was still +singing: + + "What will Peter say, Christian soul?" + +and he felt as if a great light had come to him and then vanished again, +leaving a deeper darkness than ever. + +Next morning he awoke with a rapid pulse. "What will Peter say, +Aronson?" he asked as he drew on his garments, and when he sat down to +copy a brief for Shagarach, "What will Peter say, Aronson?" the question +again recurred. Strangely enough, it always took the clear, shrill +accent of the girl. "What will Peter say, Aronson?" was the prayer for +success he offered, when a week later, he mustered up courage to cross +the mission threshold and ask Jupiter her name. + +From that day Saul Aronson was an altered youth. The least beat of a +drum in the Ghetto found him ready to quit dinner or company or work and +fly out of the house with a hasty snatch at his hat in the entry. + +Sometimes he returned with a rueful look and then his mother knew it was +only the Garibaldi guard parading. But at other times it was a subject +of remark how long he stayed and how moody he returned. + +There was a family living in the rear of the Aronsons, with a divine +little 8-year-old girl. Saul knew she was divine, although he had never +seen anything but the back of her head. For at noontime when he came to +dinner, or in the evening when he returned from work, she would be +sitting in the swing her father had built for her, with her back toward +him--swinging, singing, in blissful ignorance of the eyes that doted on +her through the slats of Saul Aronson's blinds. She had one song of "the +Savior" which she delighted to croon. Her voice was like that of a +fledgling lark and her carols were made sweet with little improvised +turns which often threatened to fail but always came out true--so sure +was the child-singer's instinct, feeling the way before her. Nothing +reminded him of Serena so much as this earthly angel, and he loved her +for the image she called up. + +Serena always looked at him. That is to say, her blue eyes pierced him +through, accused him, reproved him, every time they were lifted toward +the onlookers. But it was not until the day he raised his hand among the +converts that she noted down his face for remembrance. He knew its +features were not fascinating, especially the red mustache that bristled +out horizontally from his lips, with the ends trimmed off as clean as a +scrubbing-brush. But no one else, he felt sure, could worship her with +such reverent adoration; and now she had deigned to notice him. What if +Simon Rabofsky scowled at his raising his hand? Not "What will Simon +Rabofsky say?" but "What will Peter say, Aronson?" was the question of +questions. But I fear Peter was confused somewhat oddly in Saul's mind +with the possessor of a certain rosebud mouth. + +One night Aronson dreamed of Serena Lamb as his bride and the next +morning announced his conversion to Pineapple Jupiter, at the same time +asking for an introduction to blue eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +A RECANTATION. + + +Saul Aronson was not the only person who found pleasure in the company +of Miss Lamb. There were others, with eyes not glamoured by any golden +mist of love, who would have found it hard to select an adjective strong +enough to express their approbation of the petite devotee. About a year +before she had come down from the country to be a companion to her aunt, +Mrs. Wolfe, who had just lost her husband. + +Mrs. Wolfe (according to neighbors' gossip) had been no more than a +moderately loving wife, but she made a devoted widow. She had the waist +of a wasp and a temper to match it. Her frame was angular, and her +disposition, too, revealed shoulder blades and elbows. If she loved +anything in this world it was her marbled cat, which was hated by every +boarder in the house, and a pariah among its tribe. From constant +visiting of her husband's grave her manners had assumed a cast which +would have been appropriate to a cemetery, but was most depressing in +everyday converse. Even her smile had something acrid about it, like a +shopworn lemon, and the acidity of her scowl would have reddened blue +litmus paper. + +People wondered why her niece, such a tender little body, should be +doomed to the martyrdom of waiting upon "Old Tabby Wolfe and her +boarders." Mrs. Gubbins, who was the landlady's most intimate +crony--probably because among her other virtues she had a keen sense of +the doleful--spread the report that Serena would inherit her aunt's +property, and that her own mother, Mrs. Wolfe's sister, had had an eye +to this when she parted with the eldest of her household. However that +might be, the girl put up patiently with all the widow's quirks and +oddities; entered into religious work enthusiastically, and in six +months had rubbed off the slight rusticity with which eighteen years of +choring on a farm, before she came down to the city, had touched her +accent and manner. + +There were hardly any traces of kinship between aunt and niece. To be +sure, Serena had the slenderest slip of a waist that nature ever +fashioned, and just the least suggestion of cheek bones, too, which were +not at all disagreeable, however. When occasion demanded, she could give +a sharp order, much as she may have rebuked Spot and Bossy for switching +when she milked them in the cowshed at home. But to the boarders these +bursts of impatience only gave their sweet waitress a piquancy like the +tartness of the full-ripe strawberry. + +With them she was a general favorite. They used to declare that she put +yeast in their beds, for they were like pans of dough, feathery and +white, when she made them of a morning; and Serena, spinning the +pie-plates round, scalloping the edges of the crust with a four-tined +fork, or knitting in the sitting-room from a ball of pink yarn that +danced on the carpet as she unraveled it, was a spectacle of domesticity +at which they never tired of gazing. Yet her dignity, which was far +beyond her years, prevented their making her a plaything. Though +cordial, she was very reserved. Young ladies called her set; young men, +seraphic but cold. + +You may imagine how Aronson's heart hopped in his bosom when Jupiter +presented him to this goddess. + +"I have seen you at our meetings, Mr. Aronson," she graciously observed. +She had noticed him, then. He knew it before, but the assurance from her +lips gave him measureless joy. But this joy swelled to rapture +inexpressible, such as only the saints in the ninth heaven and happy +lovers on earth are privileged to know, when she invited him to call +upon her and pressed his hand a second time on bidding him adieu. The +thrill of her fingertips did not die out all that day; but it was a week +again (for Aronson was a bashful youth) before he presumed to accept her +invitation. + +His mother marveled why Saul furbished himself up so carefully that +evening. He had risen from the supper table prematurely and spent +exactly fifty-five minutes smoothing his hair, tidying his cravat and +drawing on his new pair of gloves. When he went out, instead of +soliciting admiration for this array, he seemed to avoid it. + +As he drew toward the mansion whose door-plate still bore the name of +the departed Ephraim Wolfe, an unwelcome surprise met Aronson. There in +the doorway, silhouetted against the hall lamp, was the form which he +knew to be Serena's. She was admitting a visitor--a youth. The door +quickly closed and a rosy light came through the tinted curtains behind. +But Aronson's spirits had sunk, his resolution departed. Instead of +crossing the street, as he had planned to, and ringing the bell, with a +little speech of greeting all prepared, he walked on to the next corner +and irresolutely turned back. + +This time a shadow fell on the white curtain of the front room. It was +Serena rocking herself placidly in the rocking-chair. Every forward +inclination brought her sweet profile into view, every backward one +removed it. Her lips moved. She was conversing, doubtless, with the +youth whose stolid shadow occupied the center of the opposite curtain. +Eight times Saul Aronson passed and repassed that house-front before he +could tear himself away and return home to divest himself downheartedly +of all his finery. + +Two days later, however, he saw Serena again; and she renewed the +invitation. This time, when he approached, there was no hostile youth at +the door. Serena herself admitted him to the portals of the paradise +which she inhabited in common with Mrs. Wolfe and the seven boarders, +and 10 o'clock had long ceased striking when, incoherent with ecstasy, +Saul Aronson uttered his last lingering doorstep adieu and promised to +return. + +He never returned. As she informed Inspector McCausland, Serena had +never looked on that lovelorn visage again. + +This was how he came to break his promise: One Sunday afternoon a +messenger came to the Aronson door with a request from Simon Rabofsky +that Saul should favor him with a visit. The young man had misgivings, +but he dared not disobey. + +Up a squalid flight, into a dingy back room, Aronson took his way +reluctantly. The clamor of voices died when he crossed the threshold and +six pairs of inimical eyes, he thought, were lifted to his face. At a +table in the midst sat Rabofsky, his yellowish earlocks dangling beneath +his skull-cap and a great book spread open before him. + +"Peace be with you, Saul Aronson," he said in the jargon. + +"The angel Dumah spare you, Simon Rabofsky," answered Aronson. + +"I rejoice to see that you have not forgotten the holy salutations." + +The twelve eyes sharpened their glances at Aronson and he knew the +ordeal was come. They were six of the strictest in the congregation, +from old Silberstein, who sat on the left of the ark and led the +recitation of the eighteen psalms of a morning, to young Cohen, the +Jewish butcher, a zealot of zealots, than whom none more devoutly beat +his bosom in prayer or observed the allotted holy days. + +"Brother Silberstein was just proposing that your place in the +synagogue be disposed of. It is a pity to see a seat vacant, when so +many must stand. But I bade him not be hasty, for perhaps you had been +ill of late." + +"Why play the innocent, Simon Rabofsky," broke in Cohen, "when you know +as well as we that he has been consorting with the gentiles?" + +"It is because I am loath to believe it," answered Rabofsky, in a +sorrowful tone, as if rebuking Cohen. "I am loath to believe one of +Isaac Aronson's household would turn away to bow before the idols of +Babylon." + +"Is it forbidden to search for wisdom?" said Aronson. + +"You do not search for it in the book where it is found," said Rabofsky, +laying his finger on the book before him. It was printed in Semitic +characters, but the language was the jargon, for Rabofsky was no master +of Hebrew and Aramaic, "the divine talmud, which our fathers have +preserved through their hundred persecutions." + +"But its wisdom is obscure," answered Aronson. + +"Are there not doctors to explain those parts which are dark?" rejoined +Rabofsky. "And behold, in this edition, which a Hebrew so enlightened as +Saul Aronson should possess, are not all the lengthy passages shortened +and the unnecessary omitted by the labors of that light of Israel, born +at Cordova, Moses ben Maimon, whom the gentiles miscall Maimonides?" + +"Why plead with the apostate?" cried Silberstein, angrily. "He is no +longer a Jew. He toileth on the Sabbath. He goeth not down to the +waterside to lament." + +"It is false," said Aronson, hotly. + +"I said so," nodded Rabofsky. + +"Who are you to reprove me, Simon Rabofsky," continued Aronson, "because +I cannot lie idle two days in the week? Do you rest from your +money-getting on the Sabbath? I think your wife, Rebecca, could answer +me that. Did I not see her selling jewels to a Christian on the seventh +day of this very week?" + +"It is written," answered Rabofsky, his steel-blue eyes contracting, +"that the high priests in the hour of necessity made food of the bread +of the tabernacle. So saith the holy book," he laid his finger again on +the page, "which Jehovah hath covered with the wings of His protection +so that torches could not destroy it. Behold it has arisen from a +thousand burnings uncharred!" + +All the Hebrews plucked their garments and with bowed heads muttered a +prayer, in which Aronson found himself joining. + +"Too many of our youth are beguiled by the flatteries of the gentiles," +continued Rabofsky, not unwilling to divert the conversation. + +"But such are only the lax ones, who worship no God," said Cohen. "Few +grovel before idols, like this one." + +"And hath Saul Aronson done this?" asked Rabofsky, as if in surprise. + +"Did you not see him yourself at the gentile ceremony raising his +hands?" + +"You wrong the Christians," protested Aronson. "They are not all cruel +and there is much sweetness of love in their doctrine." + +"Not cruel!" rejoined Cohen. "How have they not poured out our blood in +the ages!" + +"Jehovah hath stored it up," added a gentler voice, piteously. It was +Abraham Barentzen, the patriarch of the colony, who had not spoken +before, but kept looking at the backslider kindly, as if more in sorrow +than bitterness. + +"Sweetness of love!" cried Silberstein. "Love indeed and enough. How +they love each other! Sect embracing sect! Pah!" + +"They hate us; they mock us, and our children court them," droned +another in a minor key. + +"They call us cheats and usurers," cried Cohen, "because we make wealth +out of the waste they cast away." + +"Psh!" said old Barentzen, raising his hands. "Be just. Those are only +the few." + +"Perhaps it is some gentle girl that is tempting Saul Aronson, even as +the Philistine women of old weakened the faith of Samson," said +Rabofsky, keenly. + +"Are there not black-eyed daughters of Israel," cried old Barentzen, +mild-voiced and reproving, "who will make him a home? If he wants a wife +comely, buxom, well-dowered, modest, a good housekeeper and free from +tittle-tattle, are there not such by scores in the neighborhood?" + +"I fear it is Meyer Shagarach's doing," murmured Silberstein. + +"Not so," spoke Cohen, sharply. Though young, he seemed a leader. +"Shagarach is lost to the fold of Israel, but does he chant with cracked +voice out of a tattered hymn-book? Pretty soon we shall see Saul Aronson +shivering in the waters of baptism, and then he will change his name to +Paul, like that other traitor, the fire-brand of Tarsus?" + +"Traitor yourself!" cried Aronson, stung by Cohen's irony. + +The word has terrible force in Israel. The whole past of the race is +vivid in the minds of the wanderers, and recollection of its sorrows +makes a bond so strong that no temptation can break it. Aronson paused +to think. The dim traditions, all tears and fire and blood--the exodus +from Egypt, the Babylonian captivity, the burning of Jerusalem, the +dispersion, the persecutions without number--could he forget all those, +snapping ties so sacred? + +"After all, I think Saul Aronson's heart is not with the gentiles," said +old Barentzen, in a soothing voice. "Would he rather be buried when he +dies under some idolatrous mound stuck with the symbol of him whom Judas +righteously delivered----" + +"There never was such a Nazarene," broke in Cohen impetuously. "It is +all a fable and the text in Josephus was written in by the gentiles." + +"I say the Christ was real and rightly condemned as a creator of +sedition," said Rabofsky, with authoritative pomp. Like the misers of +every race, he was both devotee and formalist. + +"He is not mentioned in the talmud," argued Cohen. "Nor elsewhere, +until the history of our race crosses the history of the pagans. It is +all an invention." + +Thereupon the two zealots wrangled and jangled till Aronson's ears +ached. But his mind was dwelling upon old Barentzen's saying and sadly +acknowledging its truth. His heart was not really with the Christians. +What did he know of their teachings? He had been given a bible, but it +was locked in his office drawer, unread. Besides, these were deep +questions. Who was he to dispute the great doctors, like Moses ben +Maimon? + +"So be it, obstinate youth," said Rabofsky at last, waving his hands to +end the discussion. + +"I had begun to ask Saul Aronson a question," resumed Barentzen, in a +tone of rebuke. "Would you not rather lie like your fathers with the +shards on your eyelids and a handful of earth from the land of Israel +thrown over your resting-place?" + +Aronson hung his head. + +"Enough of this pleading and coaxing," snarled Cohen. "He is +stiff-necked, I see. I will put his name with the other traitors. There +are twenty in all. They shall be published in the next issue." + +"Stay," said Aronson. + +"On the first page," said Silberstein. "And the first page shall be hung +outward in my store window." + +"That the very children may know them for apostates and greedy +hypocrites," added Rabofsky, to clinch the threat. + +"Hold," cried Aronson. He foresaw the fatal result of his misstep. He +could hear the storm rising around him; the clamor of children on the +streets, the pointed fingers of men and women, the ironical comments +from the doorstep groups when he passed, the sly digs at the supper +table, the estranged glances of his mother. "It is all wrong," he cried. + +"Then, why do you haunt the gentile mountebanks?" asked Cohen, seizing +his sleeve. + +"Fangled like a fop!" said Silberstein, catching his lapel. + +"And shun the blessed synagogue?" added another, fumbling at his vest +buttons. + +"Are you a gentile or a Jew?" questioned Rabofsky, as chief inquisitor. + +"I am a Jew!" cried Aronson, in honest wrath, tousled and clapperclawed +until his patience had given away. Then he rushed from the room. + +The list of "traitors" appeared in the Jewish Messenger without Saul +Aronson's name. The old, old conflict between love and honor had ended +with another defeat for the imperious boy-god. But it is no discredit to +Serena Lamb that her influence yielded to a passion which is hardly +second to any in the world for intensity--the Israelite's devotion to +his race. All that she retained of the young convert from whom so much +had been expected was a confused memory of the conversation in her +sitting-room. What had Aronson told her in his agitation during that +confidential interview? It would seem that he had been too frank. At +least, for several weeks after Serena's visit to McCausland, he was +strangely conscious that some one was dogging his footsteps, both at +home and about the office. Naturally, he ascribed this espionage to the +sacred brotherhood, whose power is great in Israel, and, fearing their +vigilance, redoubled his evening invocations and waxed regular in his +attendance at the synagogue. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +THE WRATH OF SHAGARACH. + + +Walter Riley, Thomas J. Fenton and Arthur Watts had a separate trial +from the other members of the "club," which resorted to Lanty Lonergan's +back kitchen. There was only one charge against them--to wit, the +larceny of three bicycles and their sale to one Timothy Bagley, +aforesaid, dealer in junk. + +The government had little difficulty in proving its case. First, one of +the owners of the bicycles testified to having recognized his wheel, +cunningly repainted, in a stranger's possession, to following up its +rider and tracing it finally to an auction sale at which he had +purchased it cheap. From the auctioneer to Bagley, from Bagley to the +"club," was easy work for the officer detailed to investigate the theft. +Walter's unsold wheel was confiscated, together with all the other +stolen property on the premises, and no fewer than seven of the boys +placed under arrest. But the only charge against Riley, Fenton and Watts +was the theft of the bicycles. + +Bagley, the junkman, who was involved in the affair, had made a singular +confession, candid enough in most particulars but with great hiatuses +here and there concerning the disposal of certain articles, principally +articles of value--a watch, a meerschaum pipe and the third of the +bicycles. No threats or promises in private had been able to wring from +him a confession concerning these points. But at the mention of a pipe +Shagarach had raised his head and, crossing over to the prosecuting +attorney, secured a description of the missing object. + +"You admit, then, that you offered Riley $10 for the bicycle which he +had ridden?" asked Shagarach of Bagley on cross-examination. + +"Yes, sir." + +"How often did you repeat this offer?" + +"Several times--about four or five times." + +"And the boy each time refused?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"What language did he use?" + +"He said the wheel wasn't his." + +"Which you knew very well, didn't you, without being told?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And when you proposed that Fenton should ride the bicycle over to your +shop, what was Riley's conduct then?" + +"I don't know of my own knowledge. But they told me that he wouldn't +have it." + +"He threatened them, then?" + +"Yes, sir, you might call it threatening." + +"Then Riley would appear to have put forward some claim upon the +bicycle, although he denied that it was his. Would you not say that he +seemed to regard himself as its custodian rather than its proprietor? +That he was storing it in Lonergan's kitchen until the occasion should +arise when it might be returned to its owner?" + +"Well, the boys said he was sorry for taking the wheel and that he never +meant to steal it." + +"That is all--all on that point, I mean." Bagley had started to leave +the stand. "There is another matter, however, with regard to the third +bicycle--the one which has not been recovered"--Bagley shifted uneasily +to the opposite foot. "How does it happen that you, the sole repository +of the secrets of these young law-breakers, can tell us nothing of +that?" + +"I know nothing about it." + +"And about the gold watch stolen from Mr. Merchant's window?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"And the meerschaum pipe--of rare coloring, according to the connoisseur +who testified in the previous trial?" + +"I know nothing about the watch and the pipe, sir. They are not in my +line. I couldn't dispose of such articles." + +"Ah! But you might be acquainted with somebody who could, might you +not?" + +"I suppose I might----" + +"Some second-hand dealer, let us say?" + +Bagley's eye dropped and he looked pale. + +"Have you been visited, Bagley, by any one, since you were let out on +bail?" + +"Only by my bondsman." + +"What is your bondsman's name?" + +Bagley hesitated so long that the judge finally had to order him to +answer. + +"Mr. Rabofsky," he stammered. + +"Kindly subpoena Mr. Simon Rabofsky," said Shagarach to Aronson. "It is +that gentleman just starting to leave the room. He will remain for a few +moments." + +The writ was made out and handed by the awe-stricken Aronson to the +money-lender, who glared at him furiously. But he could not escape. + +"Mr. Rabofsky is a second-hand dealer, I believe?" continued Shagarach. + +"I think so." + +"Of a higher class than yourself?" + +"Oh, yes sir. Mr. Rabofsky's reputation is first class." + +"How much money did Simon Rabofsky offer you to keep him out of this +scrape?" was the next question. The witness looked over at the +money-lender in terror; then back at Shagarach, and his terror was +intensified. + +"No money," he finally gasped. + +"Would you be willing to swear that if Mr. Henderson, the owner of that +pipe, should call to-day at 84 Salem street and request Mrs. Rebecca +Rabofsky to sell him the colored meerschaum which her husband was +showing to a customer yesterday, when Mr. Shagarach called, he would be +told that no such article was in the store?" + +Either the length of the question or its import confused the witness. + +"No, sir," he answered. + +"You would not be willing----" + +"Yes, sir, I mean--that is--how do I know?" + +"Mr. Henderson," said Shagarach, turning to a gentleman present, "will +doubtless be interested enough to try. He could be back in half an hour. +That will do, Bagley." + +During the half-hour Shagarach put on, as witnesses for the defense, +Walter's schoolmaster, who told an anecdote of his truthfulness and +another of his generosity, which were better than the warmest words of +general commendation; and Emily Barlow, whose story of the theft +accorded exactly with Walter's own, which was honestly told, with a +correctness of language that his former master did not fail to notice. + +"Only I never meant to steal it," he said finally. "We all clung +together and I was sorry before I got home. I read the papers to see if +the owners' names were given, but they lived too far out of town. If I +knew whose it was I would have ridden it out to him again." + +To all this the judge listened coldly. He was a new appointee, fearful +lest the balance of Libra on his unpracticed fingertip should incline +too much one way or the other. Just as Walter concluded, Mr. Henderson +returned and Simon Rabofsky was summoned to the stand. He muttered in +his beard and flashed a glance of hatred at Shagarach. + +"What do you know of this case?" asked the lawyer. + +"Nothing." + +He looked furtively at Mr. Henderson. + +"That will do for the present. Mr. Henderson, will you kindly testify as +to the result of your search?" + +Mr. Henderson's testimony was brief and pointed. He had visited 84 Salem +street, stating that he came from Mr. Rabofsky and desired to see a +colored meerschaum pipe. The lady had shown him his own pipe. He had +priced it. Twenty-five dollars. She had procured it, she said---- + +"One moment," interrupted Shagarach. "Will you kindly remain awhile, Mr. +Henderson? Mr. Rabofsky again." + +Rabofsky returned. + +"You have heard Mr. Henderson's testimony?" + +"I have heard it. If you had sense enough to ask me, I could have told +you that without sending him off on a wild-goose chase." + +Shagarach knew that Rabofsky was excited, because his accent came out so +strongly. + +"Go on," he said, giving him the rope to hang himself by. + +"I know nothing about this case. That pipe I took from a woman who wanted +money. I lent her $25 and she never came back. All I ask is what I paid +for it, no more, no less, and so I wash my hands of all of you." + +"Not yet," said Shagarach. "You are required by law to record the names +of persons who pawn articles. If we should send an officer down to your +shop would he find the woman's name in your book?" + +"She would not give me her name." + +"But you loaned her the money?" + +"She cried and was so poor I took pity----" + +"Enough," said Shagarach in temper. "Mr. Henderson!" + +Mr. Henderson replaced Rabofsky a second time. + +"You were about to say that you inquired of Mrs. Rabofsky where her +husband obtained the pipe, were you not?" + +"Yes, sir, I asked her that." + +"What was her answer?" + +"That it was his own pipe he had smoked for eleven years." + +This statement produced a visible effect on the spectators. It concluded +the defense for Walter Riley. After the prosecuting attorneys had +pleaded for sentence, Shagarach briefly addressed the judge. + +"The real criminals in this case, your honor, are the last two +witnesses--adults of responsible years, and one of them, at least, +enjoying a reputable position. They were the receivers of the stolen +goods and the encouragers of the crimes. Were I prosecuting attorney, I +should suspend the cases against the young defendants until justice had +been done to both of these maturer thieves. + +"I cannot look upon the deed committed on the lonely roadside at +Hillsborough as a serious offense, for which our code provides a +penalty. It was a prank, played in the ebullient spirit of mischief, but +given an ambiguous color by Miss Barlow's well-meant outcry of warning. +Evil resides in the intentions of the mind. Not until Fenton and Watts +disposed of the property which was not theirs was their misdemeanor +consummated and an unhappy practical jest warped into a legal theft. + +"Even then, I might recommend clemency to all three offenders, on +account of their youth and the restitution of the property. For I have +no doubt that the missing bicycle will be found installed beside the +meerschaum pipe in Simon Rabofsky's back room. But, considering the evil +associations which these boys have formed, and their unfortunate homes, +Fenton having no mother and Watts an intemperate one, I believe that a +short period of retirement, under the regular discipline of the +reformatory, would be of advantage to them. + +"But the case of Riley is different. His character is better than that +of the others. He is fortunate in possessing an excellent mother, who +depends upon him in part for support. Moreover, the refusal on his part +to dispose of the bicycle, against a pressure few boys of his age could +resist, shows a moral courage which is exceedingly rare in my +experience, and which only needs fostering to develop its possessor into +an admirable man. I, therefore, respectfully suggest that Riley be +placed on probation." + +If the judge were not so new to the bench he would have known that +Shagarach's addresses were always brief. But, knowing the great lawyer +only by reputation, he judged that the brevity of his plea denoted a +perfunctory interest in the case. The sentencing was deferred until 4 +o'clock, when a whole batch of prisoners filed into the "cage," one +after another, to receive their punishments. + +"Ochone!" cried a maundering old woman after every sentence, and even +the court officers whispered to each other: + +"Perkins is having a picnic to-day." + +But there was little severity in the sentence accorded to the +white-faced youth who came just before the three gamins. Emily +recognized in amazement Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. + +"In consideration of your social standing," said the judge, "of your +promise to reform and of the fact that your weakness is one which +injures only yourself, I will mitigate the penalty." + +Then the clerk read out a fine of $20 and costs. The opium parlors of Hi +Wong King had recently been raided. That is to say, four tall, youngish +men had entered one evening and called for dinner. For Hi Wong King's +restaurant was open to all. Chicken wings had been served them and an +aromatic salad. Jelly pats had been dropped over their heads into dainty +plates, on which droll baboons scratched their heads and tigers grimaced +fiercely. Such is the art of the orient. Tea leaves newly steeped in a +bowl had taught them their first lesson in the needlessness of sugar and +milk; and they had practiced with the merry chopsticks, a pair in each +hand. Then, by way of diversion, they broke through the painted screens +into Hi Wong King's rear parlors and arrested eight opium smokers, +Mongol and Caucasian, of both sexes; among these one who was dreaming +over a peculiarly elegant pipe proved to be Emily's admirer. + +"Riley, Fenton and Watts, stand up," said the clerk. Walter's cheeks +were burning red, as he stood between his companions. They seemed to +feel the disgrace less keenly and looked at the clerk with sheepish and +cunning glances. + +"Fenton and Watts, you are sentenced to the reform school during your +minority, and Riley for the space of one year!" + +"Ochone!" broke out the maundering old woman and a chill fell on Emily's +heart. Then the voice of Shagarach was heard in wrath. The building +seemed to quake with its power. It was such a voice as that Roman +tribune may have owned who could make himself heard from end to end of +the forum. + +"Sir, you have just imposed a nominal fine on a mature man, who has not +only, as you speciously alleged, ruined himself by a degrading vice, but +done what example could to spread its contagion. Immediately after you +sentence three poor children to long terms of imprisonment. Are you +ignorant that four in seven of all who enter those institutions return +to them sooner or later? Do you see no possible spark of reform in the +natures of these boys, no means of tiding over the danger period of +youth, the formative years, the sowing season? Or do you think to +scatter seeds inside a jail and reap some other crop than crime? Sir, it +is not my sense of justice that social standing should condone offenses +and social obscurity magnify them." + +The ticking of the clock could be heard when Shagarach paused. Officer +looked at officer, as if they expected immediately to be called upon to +execute a sentence of contempt on the audacious lawyer. But Shagarach's +reputation was great, and Judge Perkins could not afford to inaugurate +his session in the Criminal Court by a conflict with such a man. He only +stroked his chin nervously and pulled at his severe legal whiskers. + +"I do not know which is the more deserving of censure," continued +Shagarach, "the dangerous laxity of the one judgment, which virtually +acquits a convicted lawbreaker, or the atrocious severity of the other, +which condemns to a year's whole punishment the innocent act, already +more than atoned for, of a boy for whose uprightness I would pledge my +personal word." + +"Oh, if you are willing to vouch for the boy's good behavior," said the +judge, "I will put him on probation and reconsider the other sentences." + +"I will accept the charge," said Shagarach. + +Emily's heart leaped for joy, and Mrs. Riley could not be restrained +from rushing forward and embracing Walter in rapture. But the most +touching moment came when Walter walked over to Shagarach and, with +tears in his eyes, but a stanch voice, said: "I want to show you I am +grateful." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +COUNT L'ALIENADO. + + +"Here is the substitute I promised you, Rosalie. Miss March--Count +L'Alienado." + +There was a vacant seat in the barouche that stood before the Marches' +villa. It had been destined for Tristram, but even behind the black +glasses he wore the August sunshine dazzled his eyes, so he was +compelled at the last moment to excuse himself. + +"Mme. Violet--his lordship, the Earl of Marmouth." + +Count L'Alienado was thus informally presented to his other two riding +companions. There was just a suggestion of Spanish reserve in his +obeisance, and he bowed a graceful adieu to Tristram before mounting to +his seat. + +It was curious that Tristram should have been the first to break the +count's incognito. He had arrived at Lenox a few days before, attended +by a single valet, and registered at the hotel as M. L. L'Alienado, +Valencia. Though not imposing in stature, he exhibited a head of rare +distinction--the black beard trimmed to an exquisite point at the chin +and the curled mustaches setting off a pair of glowing eyes which +riveted the beholder from the moment he met their gaze. + +As the artist spoke Spanish, they had become friends in an afternoon. + +"We have flattered ourselves that the coaching party is something purely +American," said Rosalie, who sat beside him, to the stranger. + +"I am glad of it for the color. That is an element I have observed to be +generally a little lacking in your life." + +"Color and lordliness," sighed Mme. Violet. "Ah, there are no +troubadours, no spurred cavaliers, no mailed knights in this busy +America--not even scarlet soldiers parading. You men are so dingy, dingy +in your black propriety. Why be so funereal? My heart goes out sometimes +to a very mountebank, all spangled and jingling like a tambourine when +he moves. Color! Give me color. Ah, it is not we who have taste, it is +the canaille! It is Victorine, my lady's maid, with her bonnet-ribbons +flaunting all the colors of the rainbow." + +A silk banner lay outspread in Rosalie's lap, throwing warm blushes +against her throat. It was the prize for the gentlemen's steeplechase, +which was to close the programme of the afternoon. + +"Scarlet, sea-blue and gold," she cried, stroking the tasseled fringe +which justified the last addition. "Are not these the primary hues, the +major chord of color, and the white their perfect blending?" + +The Violet laughed. When addressing her directly or referring to her in +her own presence, people carefully called her Mme. Violet. But to the +world, out of earshot, she was simply the Violet, just as Cleopatra is +Cleopatra. It was taken for granted that her blood was French, but Count +L'Alienado, noting her fawn-brown eyes and the strong black hair, which +made Rosalie's fluff appear like carded golden silk--thought he detected +the marks of the Romany. Yet the full mouth hinted at a Spanish cross. +She was not very young, or, at first sight, very beautiful, but she +possessed a diablerie stronger than girlhood or beauty, and gossip said +the Earl of Marmouth was succumbing to its spell. + +"The signal!" cried Rosalie, as the notes of a hunting-horn pealed, +faint and mellow, from a distant quarter. "It is time to start." + +For several minutes the occupants of the barouche lay back, reveling in +the luxury of the cushions and in the changing view which the drive +afforded. Other equipages swept into the main road here and there, from +cottage and mansion and by-path, each freighted with its cargo of +flower-raimented beauty. Marshals in velvet hunting garb galloped up and +down, with low salutes to the passengers and brusque orders to the +coachmen. On the top of a little hill there came a pause while the +procession was arranging itself, and the conversation rippled out again. + +"The color is overdone," said the Earl of Marmouth. "It smacks of Latin +degeneracy." + +"Such as appears in the canvases of Titian?" asked Count L'Alienado +quietly. + +The Violet, sitting opposite him, caressed her bronze-eyed spaniel to +her cheek, so that she might survey the newcomer more closely. His +lordship, at her side, alone of the party had sat upright during the +ride. + +"You are Spanish, not Italian, I am told," he said, much in the tone of +a hotel clerk demanding the settlement of an overdue bill. The Violet's +eyes met the count's interrogatively. + +"Question me in Castilian," he smiled. + +"Where are your estates?" + +"In Valencia." + +"I was there last autumn. I seem to have overlooked the L'Alienados." + +"Our estates are in dispute with another branch of the family." + +Marmouth grunted. + +"The title is very old?" asked Rosalie, to blunt the edge of his +impertinence. + +"Not very old," answered Count L'Alienado, gently, but looking full at +Marmouth. "Before Columbus set out from Palos my ancestor was knighted +by Ferdinand the Great--for honorable services." + +"We are moving at last," growled the earl, as if personally grieved at +the delay. His own title was less than 200 years old and the services +for which it was granted, by the second Charles, though historic, could +not possibly be called honorable. + +"Ah, this is joyous!" cried the Violet, as the sensuous pleasure of the +ride stole over her. A quick-step, taken from the start, gave the party +a gentle jolting, just sufficiently softened by the padded carriage +upholstery. Up hill and down dale, through the riches of midsummer, the +route chosen wound. Forest and meadow sailed leisurely by them. +Handkerchiefs waved from piazza and window wherever they passed a +dwelling house, and at every cross-road stood a group of the fresh-faced +country-folk to give them greeting. At the end of an hour the road +recurved on itself along a hillside overlooking the valley of the racing +park and the pageant bent its length into the form of a letter S, so +that without the delay of a formal review each carriage was permitted to +inspect the others. + +Count L'Alienado saw barges filled with maidens, like living flowers, +four-in-hand tally-hos, crowded with sportive collegians, odd +jaunting-cars and donkey-carts got up by the wags, staid family coaches +with footmen faced rearward to enjoy the retrospect, and open drags like +his own without number, all brilliant with lovely womanhood. + +The Violet stood apart from the others, sensuous and exotic--like an +orange lily in a garden of snowdrops. But, supreme over all, like a +bright light, enhanced by reflectors, shone the loveliness of Rosalie +March--pure, placid and faultlessly costumed as ever. The jockeys +whispered to one another when her vehicle entered the racing park. An +eager look at that moment chased away the slight hauteur of her +expression--not unbecoming in one so clearly removed from the common +order, and far from approaching disdain. She turned her head toward the +stables expectantly. + +"Paradise," said the Violet, when they had entered and the carriages +circled around the great oval. + +"This is something like England," said the earl. + +"None the worse for that," smiled Rosalie. + +"No. Most of the good things I have seen here are derived from the +mother country." + +"Do you agree, Count L'Alienado?" asked Rosalie, appealing to the +stranger. + +"Candor is too sharp a sword to carry about unsheathed," answered Count +L'Alienado. + +Mme. Violet smiled archly, bringing her Gainsborough brim close to the +earl's great face and caressing her spaniel with provoking abandon. + +Rosalie's little abstraction since they passed through the gate might +easily be understood, for Harry Arnold was entered in the steeplechase +for gentlemen riders. + +"There they come!" she cried, but it was only a group of motley jockeys +for the ring race. This passed off quietly enough. + +"Now for the steeplechase," cried Rosalie. "There's Harry!" She +instinctively plucked the Violet's hand. Then, remembering they were not +alone, she colored. Harry led the group of riders who came from the +stables, mounted on strong-limbed steeplechasers. His uniform was of +the bulrush brown velvet he liked, and his horse a bright chestnut, +which pranced as if proud to carry such a master. Even at a distance his +splendid seat gave presage of victory. + +"Mr. Arnold is the favorite," said Count L'Alienado. + +"Although he gives away forty pounds to Leroy," added Rosalie, the +technical terms of the track coming strangely from her lips. It was +fortunate for her peace of mind Tristram was not there to hear them. + +"Now they start!" she cried, alive with interest; but it was only Harry +Arnold who spurted his curvetting chestnut across the turf, then reined +him up on his haunches with a sudden jerk, as you may have seen an old +cavalry sergeant perform the trick. But Leroy, who, as Rosalie said, +weighed nearly half a hundred less, wisely reserved his white horse's +strength. + +"Now!" repeated Rosalie, unconsciously clasping the flag, as if eager to +bestow it. The horses, six in number, had started in a bunch and kept +together easily till the pistol flash. Then each bounded as if cut with +a whip, and rider and horse bent forward. + +"Hurrah!" shouted the ring of onlookers about the inclosure, as all six +took the first low wall together. The course led straightway across the +oval, up a hill at one end, then out of sight for a circuit of a mile, +and back by another route, over ditch and mound. Harry Arnold's chestnut +and Leroy's white could be seen a length in the lead of the others and +neck and neck, as they struggled up the hill and sunk to view on the +other side. + +"How glorious! How delightful!" cried the Violet, in the interim of +suspense. "It is better than the wild Indians that rode in the coliseum +last year. Your full-blooded racers, they are too lean, like +grasshoppers. Oh, the steeplechase is better. I believe, after all, you +owe something to old England, which bequeathed you this legacy." + +"You remember the horse-race in 'Anna Karenina?'" asked his lordship, +much mollified. "One of the most ethical of books, in the broader sense +of the word." + +His question seemed addressed to Count L'Alienado. + +"I have not read the Russians," he answered. + +"You are behind the world, senor. And where may your diversions lie?" + +"My favorites," he answered, "are the Persian poets." + +Rosalie desisted for a moment from scanning the black crest of the +distant hill with her great eyes full of eagerness. Then she recovered +herself suddenly, and cried out, in a piercing voice: + +"They are coming!" + +"Who is ahead?" + +"The chestnut and the white are even," said the count. + +"Oh, I hope he will win!" prayed Rosalie, clutching the prizes she was +to award. Down the slope they strained, heading toward the goal. Only a +close side view could have disclosed the advantage in favor of either. + +"Harry Arnold will win," said Count L'Alienado. "Leroy is whipping his +horse." + +The count's judgment proved correct. Almost immediately the chestnut +began drawing away from the white. A nose, a neck, half a length, and +the clear ground intervened. Harry did not touch whip or spur to the +sides of his mount, until the last leap, when a high wall and a long +ditch had to be taken together. On the very rise of the jump he switched +his chestnut's flanks, and just as the conductor's baton seems a wand +visibly producing the swell of the orchestra, so this light motion +seemed to give the impulse to the horse's spring. The clatter of his +feet on the hard turf beyond announced him the winner amid cheers. +Leroy's white took the ditch gallantly, too, but the blood showed red in +its nostrils. + +Instead of reining up at the goal, Harry executed a characteristic +caprice. The fence surrounding the race-track was nearly five feet high. +Careering on at full gallop, the victor urged his animal toward this +obstacle. A great shout greeted him as he cleared it, the chestnut's +hind hoofs grazing the boards. Then, swiftly turning to the right, he +cantered up to Rosalie's carriage, gracefully backed his horse and +saluted. Leroy joined him through the gate, and stood at his side, +while the losers straggled in, haphazard and blown. + +"That was for you, Rosalie," said Harry in her ear as she laid the +flagstaff in his hand. It was meant for a whisper, but others heard it, +and on the morrow the news had spread all over Lenox that Harry Arnold +and the beautiful Rosalie March were definitely betrothed. When it +reached Mrs. Arnold in Hillsborough, as though by special messenger, she +retired at once to her room. + +The coaching party paraded out and dispersed amid merrymakings freer +than before. Mme. Violet was bewitching during the journey home, making +up by a double stream of effortless prattle for Rosalie's unwonted +silence. + +"But Poe," protested the girl, as if waking suddenly, when the earl, who +had got back to book talk again, inveighed against the poverty of our +literature. + +"Ting-a-ling," said his noble lordship. The carriage had just stopped to +leave Count L'Alienado at his hotel. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +THE PURPLE TEA. + + +"The Earl of Marmouth sends his regards. He will be unable to join us." +Tristram March held a coroneted note in his hands while he made this +announcement to the company. There was a faint salvo of regrets, meant +for the Violet's ears. Only Miss Milly Mills was heard remarking, sotto +voce: + +"I'm glad the old bear is chained for once." + +"But the grizzly is grand in its den, dear," chided Dorothea Goodbody, a +little louder. + +"True. We do not fit everywhere," said the Violet, who had overheard +them. "Imagine Thoreau in a salon." + +"Or Talleyrand in the Walden woods," added Count L'Alienado. + +More than one of the company had noted this as the third occasion on +which his noble lordship avoided a meeting with the count. Was it that +in the reserved Spaniard he had encountered a force which he could not +overbear? Or was he jealous of the count's attention to the Violet? +Twice at the Ryecroft's hop she had inadvertently answered the slender +foreigner and turned her smooth, brown shoulder to the Englishman. + +"Well," said Tristram, "the menagerie must perform without its lion." + +"How flattering, brother!" cried Rosalie. Harry Arnold was leaning over +her chair. "You compare us to wolves and panthers." + +"Not unhappily," said the Violet. "Mine host is clever. He will put us +all in an apologue like Aesop's. I am curious to see how I shall be +transformed." + +"The mood is wanting," cried Tristram, while the young ladies seconded +the suggestion. "I am savage. I should affront you all with some furious +satire." + +"Imagine Tristram furious," said Harry. + +"A smothered volcano. I have committed to-day the sin against the Holy +Ghost. Guess what that is?" + +"Success," said the Violet. + +"Candor," the count. + +"Bachelorhood," Miss Milly Mills. + +"Punning," his sister Rosalie. + +But Tristram shook his head drearily at each response. + +"Well, then, tell us," cried a chorus of impatient voices. + +"I have prostituted art to lucre--having disposed of my great design of +Ajax's shield--for what purpose, do you think?" + +All the guesses were wild again. + +"For a bed-spread," said Tristram, and there was a chorus of laughter, +amid which the circle broke up into little moving knots, all +electrically united, however, so that the talk flew from one part of the +room to another. + +It was one of Tristram's soirees, which were the events of the season in +Lenox. The flavor of art was substituted for that of artificiality, and +usually some souvenir, bearing the touch of the host's own fanciful +hand, was carried away by each of the guests. The coveted invitation for +this night's affair announced "a purple tea," and the furnishings +verified the description. Rich muslin shades over the chandeliers +(Rosalie's work) purpled all the atmosphere of the parlors. Purple +hangings here and there carried out the suggestion, but not too +obtrusively, and each of the guests appeared with some purple garment. + +Among the ladies these generally verged toward the wine-colored shades, +for they were all too young to carry well the full warmth of the Tyrian. +Thus the Violet's mantilla, Rosalie's cloud, Harry Arnold's sash, were +all steeped to the same dye, now the crimson, now the blue element +prevailing in the mixture. Count L'Alienado alone appeared to have +evaded the rule until, raising his right hand to smell a rose, he +scattered a pencil of purple light from an opalescent stone which none +present were learned enough in lapidary science to name. + +"Let's have tableau charades!" cried Miss Milly Mills, who flitted from +person to person, from subject to subject, like a butterfly, and was +accused of a partiality for spruce gum. The suggestion was taken up with +approval, and nearly every one present acted out the first word that +came to him on the spur of the moment. + +Tristram gave what he called a definition of himself in lengthy +pantomime which no one could fathom. So he was obliged to explain that +meed--eye--ochre--tea, summed up "mediocrity," at which one and all +protested. Most of the other attempts were quite as laborious. But when +the Violet stepped forward and trilled an upper C, then buzzed like an +insect and put her right foot forward, there was a unanimous cry of +"Trilby!" and the flatness began to be taken out of the game. + +Then the pleasures grew more miscellaneous and Count L'Alienado found +himself for a time alone on the outer balcony with Mme. Violet. The sky +was starlit above, the shadows lay deep in the garden bushes below, and +the diamonds burned amid her braids. They talked of the Persian poets +till the light voice of Tristram within interrupted them and a ripple +of laughter from the purple interior reached their ears. + +"Ah, this is not fair; that our wisest and wittiest should impoverish +the company by their absence. Your places are waiting and the bell is +tired of tinkling to you." + +"We were lost among the stars," replied Count L'Alienado. + +Opposite the count sat Harry Arnold; opposite the Violet, Rosalie. +Waiters were serving refreshments, and a purple tea was poured into the +wine-colored cups. On each table lay a souvenir containing verse or +prose by Tristram March, with fantastic decorations in the border. Harry +Arnold was just passing the souvenir of their table to Rosalie. It +contained a caricature in profile of Tristram himself, and a brief +"Autobiography," which Harry read aloud: + + "I went to school + To Ridicule. + He taught me civility, + The peacock humility, + Depth and subtility + Feste, the fool. + + + Meeker and meeker becomes my mood + From studying Conscious Rectitude; + And if my speech be firm and pat, + Madam Garrulity taught me that." + +"Oh, I hate sarcasm," burst out Rosalie. "Why won't you be literal, +commonplace, something positive, if it's only a woman-hater?" + +"An abominable fault, brother Tristram," said Harry, sternly. + +"Hideous!" cried the others, drowning poor Rosalie's homily in a flood +of irony more heartless than Tristram's own. + +Then Rosalie gave him up as incorrigible. + +"I wonder if Count L'Alienado's jewel has not a legend attached to it?" +said some one. + +"It is an alamandine ruby from Siam," began the count. + +"Oh, do go on," cried Miss Milly Mills from the rear, who had been +listening over her shoulder. "Tell us the story. I'm sure it will be +better than Cleverly's last book." + +"Oh, if it isn't better than that----" + +"But the setting was fresh," said Tristram, who was Cleverly's friend. +"He rehangs his gallery well, even if the portraits are familiar." + +"This talisman of mine has indeed a story attached to it," said Count +L'Alienado at last, "but you may read hundreds better in any book of +oriental tales. Its quality, however, is curious. You know that +mesmerism has long been known in the east, and that many of the occult +feats of the Hindoo magicians are ascribed to that power. It was an Arab +caliph who first attributed to this stone the quality of securing +immunity to its possessor from the magic trance. As a matter of fact, I +have never been hypnotized while I wore it." + +"A challenge, Harry," said Tristram. + +"You possess the power?" asked the count. + +"So I am told," laughed Harry. + +"People go to sleep at his bidding," said Tristram. "He is the surest +recipe I have seen for insomnia." + +"Except the Rev. Dr. Fourthly," whispered Miss Milly Mills, but at this +Dorothea Goodbody looked shocked. + +"Shall I hypnotize you, Rosalie?" smiled Harry to his sweetheart. + +But Rosalie shook her head with a little shudder. + +"The count," said the Violet. + +"The count! Hypnotize the count!" a chorus echoed. + +"Very well," said the Spaniard; "a moment till I invoke the genii of the +carbuncle. Now." + +"Are you ready?" said Harry, laughing a little awkwardly. He made one or +two cabalistic passes with his hands, looking straight into the eyes of +the count. They were large burning eyes, the like of which Harry had +never met before. Gazing into their depths, he seemed to feel a new +spell. They were drawing him, drawing his soul away. Other objects +disappeared. Rosalie, Tristram, the Violet--he clutched at them, but +they were gone. The count himself grew shadowy. Only his eyes--fixed, +haunting, luminous--remained, centering a vast drab vault, which was all +that was left of the populous world and its occupants. What could Harry +do but surrender his faculties and be absorbed like the rest? + +"It is Harry who is hypnotized," cried Tristram. Rosalie fixed her gaze +on her lover's face. + +"Raise your right hand," said the count. Harry obeyed. His stare was +glassy, his lower lip stupidly dropped. + +"Do you know this glove?" asked the count, raising a lemon-colored kid. + +"I do," came the answer, mechanical, monotonous. + +"Try it on." + +Harry drew the glove on his right hand, his eyes never leaving those of +the count. + +"Button it tightly," said the Spaniard. "Do you remember where you wore +this glove last?" + +"I do." + +"Can you see the side door opening from the passageway?" + +"I can." + +"Do you recognize the youth who is entering?" + +"I do." + +"Is it Harry Arnold?" + +"It is Harry Arnold." + +"Does he listen cautiously?" + +"He listens cautiously." + +"Does he climb the stairs softly?" + +"He climbs the stairs softly." + +"Does he enter the study?" + +The young man's face twitched and convulsed. His eyes started from their +sockets. The foam rose to his lips as they worked. + +"Harry!" + +It was the agonized cry of Rosalie March, throwing herself upon her +lover and turning defiantly at Count L'Alienado, whose fierce insistence +had amazed the onlookers. The spell seemed to be broken, for Harry sunk +from his chair, supported by Rosalie's arms. + +"Some wine," cried Tristram, chafing Harry's forehead and gently +striving to unclasp his sister's arms. But she clung to her sweetheart +with love in her eyes. + +Count L'Alienado approached the unconscious man, the crowd parting +before him. + +"Wake!" he said, "and forget!" Harry's eyes shut naturally and then +opened. He drank the wine which Rosalie pressed to his lips. In a few +minutes he was erect, eagerly questioning the company. + +"Call it a faint," said Count L'Alienado, quietly. "It is better that he +should not know." + +"But what was it all about?" asked Miss Milly Mills, on tiptoe with +curiosity. + +"Only an experiment in clairvoyance," answered Count L'Alienado. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +THREE TIMES RUNNING. + + +Shagarach's office was a hive of industry the next time Emily Barlow +called. Walter Riley, installed in Jacob's place, looked smartly +clerical, with a pen over one ear, docketing some papers, and Aronson +was knitting his brows over a decision in the digest. But the lawyer +himself, she thought, did not appear to have profited greatly by his +fortnight's vacation. His cheek was worn and his manner betrayed an +unusual aberration at times. + +He had returned only the evening before. When she entered the parlor to +greet him his mother found the padlock chain of the Persian poets torn +through their edges, and her son face down on the carpet buried in a +volume of Hafiz, with Sadi and Firdusi scattered near. She trembled, but +she did not disturb him. + +"Our cause progresses," he said, in answer to Emily's query. "Important +links have been discovered since we last conferred." + +The sweet girl lifted her eyebrows and waited. + +"In the first place we shall put Harry Arnold on the stand. I have +traced him to the door of the study a moment before the fire was set." + +Emily bit her lip just a trifle in disappointment, for her own cherished +theory would only be embarrassed by the presence of Harry Arnold there. + +"The other points?" she asked. + +"You remember the peddler in the green cart, alluded to in Ellen +Greeley's letter, who carried messages to some person unknown?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Three witnesses stand ready to swear that a peddler in a green cart +cried his wares through the roads of Woodlawn about the time of the fire +and frequently stopped at the house of the Arnolds." + +"That connects them legally," said Emily, still more discontented. "How +soon do you expect a trial?" + +"In less than two weeks. I am sorry you will have to shorten your +vacation." + +"Oh, it is better over; the suspense is agony." + +"The door, Walter," said Shagarach, as she passed out. Pretty soon he +went home to his own midday meal. Aronson was called away to look up a +title and left the Whistler in charge. + +Walter had already caught just a little of his employer's decision of +manner, which sat oddly on his rosy face, but was no more, after all, +than a laudable aspiration toward manfulness. The lawyer had discovered +his skill with the pencil and his mechanical interests, and had set him +to work evenings copying the designs in a drawing manual. Meanwhile, his +gamesome impulses had quieted a good deal, and it was only when the +office was empty, as now, that the old rich whistle was heard. Shagarach +and Shagarach's suggestions seemed to consume that whole fund of +adolescent energy which formerly had overleaped all bounds in its search +for an outlet. + +He was just in the middle of a skylark solo, interrupted by bites at the +contents of his lunch-box, when a white-bearded old man entered. At +first Walter, hearing the limp on the stairs, took it for old Diebold, +the pensioner, one of Shagarach's clients. The lunch-box vanished like +magic and there was a hasty brushing of crumbs and swallowing of a +half-masticated mouthful before he turned the knob. + +"Is Mr. Shagarach in?" asked the stranger, glancing around with a senile +leer. + +"Not now, sir, but I expect him soon," answered Walter. "He's gone to +dinner. Won't you be seated while you wait for him?" + +"How long?" said the old man, mumbling his words, as if he were +toothless, and nodding at the boy over and over again. + +"How long before he comes back? Oh, he never stays away long. He'll be +here in five minutes, I guess." + +The old man sat down feebly in the chair. Such a strange old man, +thought Walter. His white beard almost covering his face and reaching +down on his bosom, and long white curls coming out from under his hat. +He must be almost a hundred, said the boy to himself. Yet his eyes +rolled around quickly and his skin wasn't wrinkled at the corners of the +eyes, nor did he have those time-scored furrows in the neck that +soldiers call saber cuts. + +"Buy a pencil," he said to Walter, taking out a bunch from his pocket. + +Walter shook his head in some disappointment. It was only a peddler, +after all. + +"Two for five," persisted the visitor. + +Should he show him the door? Mr. Shagarach did not like to be troubled +with peddlers, but this one was so very old. Walter hesitated about +dismissing him. Besides he had asked for the lawyer. Perhaps he had some +business, too. + +Just then Shagarach's brisk step was heard in the entry, and the little +man came flying across the room to his desk in the inner office. + +"That is Mr. Shagarach?" asked the gray-beard, jerking his thumb and +leering again. + +"Walter," said Shagarach. Walter jumped and was preceding the visitor in +when a terrible snarl of rage caused him to turn. The white-bearded old +man seemed to have been transformed into a beast, glaring with his wild +blue eyes and gritting his great teeth at Shagarach. He raised a bottle +in his hand and hurled its contents at the lawyer. But Walter had caught +his arm and pulled it down with all the might in his bourgeoning +muscles. The liquor hissed where it fell, and several drops spattered on +his neck and bosom, causing him to shrink as if touched with a caustic. +Still he tore at the old man's face, and covered the mouth of the bottle +with his palm so as to intercept the hot shower. + +Shagarach had been looking down at some papers when he first heard the +sound of the old man's breath forced between his teeth. As quick as +thought he reached for the paper-weight and hurled it with all his +force. It struck the stranger full in the forehead, cutting a ragged +gash with its edge. Then the lawyer sprung from his chair, following up +his missile with the quickness of a cat. But just as he reached across +Walter's body the boy fell back in his arms with a shriek of pain, the +stranger's white beard coming away in his fingers. + +"The oaf!" cried Shagarach, but the assailant was gone in a flash. + +"Water! Water!" shrieked the office boy, writhing in his arms. + +The lawyer glanced around. The wainscoting was charred where the liquor +had fallen. The boy's jacket was eaten away in holes. It was vitriol +that had been thrown. + +"A quart of lime-water at the nearest apothecary's," he shouted to +Aronson, who had just come back. "And the first physician you can fetch. +Don't lose a second." + +Aronson was off like the wind, while Shagarach unbuttoned the boy's vest +and tore away the saturated portions of his undergarments that were +clinging to his shriveled skin. Already great blisters rose under the +action of the acid. + +"Will you telephone central 431, Inspector McCausland," he said to the +tenant opposite who had been attracted in by the noise. "Ask him to call +at once, and state that I have been attacked again." + +It was the physician who arrived first, then Aronson. Walter's burns +were bathed profusely with the lime-water, and the blisters pricked open +by the doctor's needle. After the first agony he bore the pain without a +groan. His breast and palm would be scarred for life, but the only wound +on the visible parts was a long, pear-shaped corrosion extending along +the side of his neck. You may imagine how tenderly Shagarach nursed him +and how excitedly Aronson ran to and fro fetching whatever was asked +for. + +"It is time this should be stopped," said McCausland, entering. But he +was not alone. He held a great bloodhound in leash. "It was the same +customer, I suppose? Can you give me any article belonging to the man? I +picked up this in the doorway." + +He held up a white wig. + +"The false beard," cried Walter, holding it out from the stretcher on +which they were bundling him. + +"Better the blood drops," said Shagarach. "Search the stairs. He was +wounded." + +McCausland rushed out, his hound tugging strongly at the leash. + +"Smell, Wolf, smell," they could hear him saying, and then a half-trip +and a clatter down the stairs told that the dog had caught the scent and +nearly pulled the inspector off his feet. + +"I am glad it is no worse, Walter. The doctor will do all that skill can +to soothe your pain. You have saved my life twice," said Shagarach, +pressing the boy's hands, which were clasped over his bosom, where the +lint lay on his burns. Gently the ambulance men carried him down the +stairs, with never a cry from his brave lips tightened over the sound. + +"I will call to-night, Walter. May you be better then," said the lawyer, +giving the driver Mrs. Riley's address. The physician climbed into the +spare seat and the wagon drove off with its suffering passenger. + +"A cap, a coat button and a false beard," said Shagarach. "And still we +grope in the dark. Yet an anatomist will reconstruct a mastodon from a +fragment of his tooth!" + +"Lost again," said McCausland, re-entering with his bloodhound, which +nosed about in corners of the room. The inspector sat down, puffing and +looked thoroughly disgusted. + +"You lost the trail?" + +"Never fear Wolf for that. Lie down, Wolf! No; the hound kept his track +through all the cross-scents of the city--something to boast of, +that--there was blood dripping here and there, that I knew by his +yelping. By the way, you must have struck him hard." + +"The paper-weight is heavy," said Shagarach, picking it up from under +the desk where it had rolled. As he did so the hound gave a roar and a +bound, and stood up to reach it with his forepaws. + +"Down, Wolf! Lie down!" cried McCausland, sternly. "There is blood on +the edge. That may help us another time." + +"Take it," said Shagarach. "But you lost the trail, you said." + +"It vanished into the air. Wolf took us to the northern station, running +me off my feet all the way--through the waiting-room, up and down the +platform twice, inside track gate No. 5, and then--flatted fair and +square. You know the random way he runs about when he's lost the scent? +Our man had taken a train." + +"The western express, 12:59," said Shagarach. + +"How did you know?" + +"I have had occasion to take the same train at track No. 5 on a visit to +Woodlawn. Had he purchased a ticket?" + +"No man with a cut on his face, or of our description." + +"Then he has a trip ticket and lives there." + +"Where?" + +"At Woodlawn," said the lawyer. "Near Harry Arnold." + +McCausland smiled incredulously. + +"Is Woodlawn the only station between here and Albany?" he asked. +"However, I telegraphed along the route to have the runaway stopped." + +"What time did you send the telegram?" asked Shagarach. + +"At 1:19 by the station clock." + +"Just a minute too late. The express reaches Woodlawn at 1:18. It is the +first station." + +"Heigho! Here's a to-do. What about Woodlawn?" asked a cheerful voice. +It was Dr. Jonas Silsby, brown as a berry, with a broad-brimmed straw +hat and a basketful of botanical specimens under one arm. The casual +observer would have taken him for an uncommonly good-looking farmer, +bringing some choice greens to market. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +A HUT IN THE FOREST. + + +"Who's talking of Woodlawn? Just where I came from, and if the fronds of +those ferns aren't as fine-cut as petals, then I don't know an oak from +a gooseberry bush." + +"Dr. Silsby--Inspector McCausland." + +The men clasped hands. + +"Didn't meet a maniac with a gash in his forehead on the way back, did +you?" laughed McCausland. + +"Maniac--well, no; but I've rooted out a peeping Tom there, that's been +frightening the women." + +"How was that?" asked Shagarach. + +"It was those ferns did it. Aren't they beauties, though? Feel! Silky! +Maidenhair! Rare variety." + +"They helped you find the peeping Tom?" said Shagarach, who knew the +botanist's tendency to forget. + +"Oh, yes," said Dr. Silsby. "I was just about to tell that story. You +know the hemlock forest back of the blue hills in Woodlawn--marshy place +thereabouts, lots of clay in the soil--some of it on those boots, eh? +Well, those ferns came from there. Didn't walk in of themselves, I +guess. No, I had to wade for them. Pretty boggy, but not quite up to the +Dismal swamp. Well, I was feeling about, pulling up things, when I came +on the hut." + +"A hut?" + +"I call it a hut by courtesy. Begging your pardon, said I, and tumbled +in the sides of it. Hadn't any door that I could see--only two loose +boards--and was mighty poor carpenter work all over. Just a roof and +three sides, the whole thing backed against a pudding-stone ledge that +juts out into Hemlock lake." + +"Had it an occupant?" asked Shagarach. + +"Three squirrels," answered Dr. Silsby, "investigating a can of corn." + +"Nothing else?" + +"Some old newspapers, a blanket, a stool and a mighty ugly collection of +instruments, I tell you, including this article, which I confiscated." + +He removed a pistol which lay at the bottom of his basket, handling the +specimens as carefully as if they had been wounded kittens. + +"Is it loaded?" asked McCausland, taking it in his hand and unhinging +the butt. The backs of three cartridges stared out from the cylinder. + +"You kept the second bullet, Shagarach, I believe," said McCausland, +removing a cartridge. Shagarach rolled out a flattened bullet from a pen +box in his drawer. + +"Same caliber," said McCausland. "This looks like the pistol that was +aimed at you that evening." + +"So you know peeping Tom, then?" asked Dr. Silsby. + +"Mr. McCausland and I have two of the three bullets that round out his +pistol's complement," answered Shagarach, "and the third is lodged in my +ceiling at home too deep for the probe to reach." + +"I thought the hut had a human atmosphere. There were fresh tracks +around, and the station-master spoke to me about a scoundrel that's been +frightening the country-folks--frightening them by running away from +them, as far as I could see. But you don't suppose he was fern-gathering +down in that swamp, do you?" + +"Hardly," said McCausland. "Could you take us there now?" + +"Now? I've my lecture at Hilo hall--A Study in Ingratitude; or, the +Threatened Extinction of the Great Horned Owl." + +"It is an important piece of evidence in the Floyd case," said +Shagarach, though McCausland still smiled incredulously. "We want the +occupant of that hut." + +"Robert's case. Command me," said Dr. Silsby. "Sorry Mr. Hutman wasn't +at home when I called. I'd have had him here dead or alive." + +"Wolf!" said McCausland. The great dog started up, wagging his tail. +"Smell." He offered him the revolver butt. The hound barked and smelled +his way to the door again, but McCausland pulled him back. + +"It is our man," he said, thrusting the paper-weight in his pocket. + +"My pathfinder, Aronson," said Shagarach, who sprung to his desk. + +"The next train for Woodlawn doesn't leave till 4:03." + +"We can go more quickly by team," said McCausland. "I will have one here +in ten minutes." + +Then he departed with his hound, and Shagarach sent Aronson to announce +at Hilo hall that an imperative summons compelled the defender of the +great horned owl to neglect for once the cause of that calumniated +biped. + +"This is where I left the road," cried Dr. Silsby, an hour later. "A +good, smart journey lies before us." + +"It's uncertain when we'll return," said McCausland to the driver. +"Probably not before 6 at the earliest. You'd better drive home. We'll +take the train into town." + +The driver wheeled his team and drove away, while the party of +three--Shagarach, McCausland and Silsby--crossed a bush-skirted meadow +with the bloodhound still in leash. But they were not destined to +remain long unattended. The curious folk had got wind of their intention +to unearth the peeping Tom, and the sight of an officer in buttons +emboldened many to follow in their wake. Several men offered to help in +the search, and McCausland did not refuse their assistance. + +"The more the merrier," he said, whereupon not only men but women +trailed behind them. + +Among these followers was one young woman, familiar to two of the three +leaders of the party. + +"Good evening, Miss Wesner," said Shagarach and McCausland almost +together, and the great inspector was not above entertaining that +somewhat vulgar curiosity many of us feel as to the relationship of any +chance couple we meet. For Miss Wesner was attended by an exceedingly +attentive young man. Courting? Engaged? Married? The question rises as +naturally as a bubble in water. In this case the truth lay midway. What +more natural than that she should spend her afternoon off with Hans +Heidermann at the picnic park in Woodlawn? + +"Now you've left the cheap bombast of the town behind you," said Dr. +Silsby, looking at the great trees as if he would embrace them one and +all. "Isn't this grand? Isn't this Gothic? Pillars, gloom, fretted +roof--don't tell me art's cathedrals are any improvement on nature's." + +The bloodhound interrupted his rhapsody. + +"We may leave Dr. Silsby behind, if he chooses, as well as the town +bombast," said McCausland. "We shall not need his guidance any farther. +Wolf has caught the trail again." + +Two or three times on the march the inspector had held the glass +paper-weight out so that the dog might smell the blood-clot on its edge. +His joyful bark and eager straining at the leash announced that he had +scented the fugitive. + +"Not I," said Dr. Silsby. + +Pulled on by the hound, McCausland and his two companions were soon +trotting far ahead of the plodding laggards behind them. Their talk had +died away. The heart of each was tense. Not a sound broke the mid-forest +silence save the harsh screams of purple jays resenting their intrusion, +and the snapping of twigs and branches. + +"There are the ferns," said Dr. Silsby. + +"Are we near?" asked McCausland. + +"Within a hundred yards, I should say. This is the hemlock grove." + +"Step on the moss. It will deaden our footfalls," said the detective. +"Slow, Wolf, slow!" + +He reined in the impetuous animal as best he could and his companions +crept behind him softly. + +"I see it," whispered Shagarach, pointing through the trees. It was +nearly 5 o'clock and the light was beginning to slant more dimly through +the aisles of the forest. But following his finger, the eye of the +detective made out a rude shelter, sharply distinct by the smoothness of +its boarded walls from the rough bark surfaces around. It seemed to lean +against the steep ledge which Dr. Silsby had described and the roof +derived most of its support from the projecting arms of two great trees +whose roots spread up into the crevices of the rock. Osiers and strong +withes took the place of nails, and the chinks were stopped with moss. +No log cabin or camper's shed was ever more roughly joined. It had every +appearance of being recent and temporary. + +"We must surround it," said McCausland. The loud barking of the hound, +re-echoing in the stillness, had betrayed their presence to the +occupant. Shagarach and Dr. Silsby stationed themselves each at one +side, the former empty-handed, the latter clubbing his stout cane. +McCausland waited for the followers to arrive through the woods, but +most of them hung back at a safe distance, only three or four of the men +coming close to the besiegers. + +"Who is inside there?" asked the detective loudly. + +The silence succeeding his question was intense and prolonged. + +"We have come to take you in the name of the law, and we will take you, +living or dead," said the detective. + +There was no response but the rustling of the leaves. Song-birds were +few in the deep recesses, and these few had been frightened from their +nests. A creeping fear entered the hearts of the ring in the background +and they edged farther away. For the gloom was gathering swiftly. Only +one patch of sky was visible, above the steep ledge, and that lay toward +the darkening east. + +"I prefer that he should be taken alive, if possible," said Shagarach in +a low voice to the detective. The latter gave three strong raps with a +bough on the trunk of a mighty tree, then cried again to the secreted +fugitive: + +"Once more, I will state our errand. We are officers of the law. You are +wanted for the murderous attacks you have made on Meyer Shagarach----" + +A hoarse snarl of rage burst from within the hut, causing some of the +distant spectators to turn in alarm. But it angered the bloodhound, as +the spur a proud horse, and with an answering roar he burst loose +from his leash and sprung at the hut, forcing a loose plank in +with his impetus. Then a sharp tool was seen to descend in the +opening--apparently an adze--and the hound's head sunk under the blow. +He leaped from side to side in agony, and as he ran back whining to his +master the blood dripped into his eyes from a hideous wound that had +bared the bone of the skull. McCausland swore furiously and the +lingering shadow of a smile vanished from his face. He unwound the rope +which he had brought along and secured one circle of a double handcuff +to his left wrist. + +"We'll march home Siamese fashion or my name is Muggins," said the +inspector, between his teeth. Then he began gathering brushwood in a +heap before the hut. + +"What are you at, man?" cried Dr. Silsby. + +"Smoke him out," said McCausland. + +"And fire these woods? Are you crazy?" The botanist was greatly +excited. + +"Confound your woods! Good Wolf! Poor Wolf!" said the inspector, +alternately petting the hound, who, amid all his pain, licked his +master's hand, and throwing fagots on his pyre. + +"But--but--name o' conscience, man," stammered Dr. Silsby. "This is the +finest hemlock grove this side of the White mountains." + +"We could demolish the walls, I think," said Shagarach, "and capture him +with a rush." + +"Where are the axes?" asked McCausland. + +"Poles will do." There were heavy boughs and light saplings lying about, +which would make excellent impromptu crowbars. Without a word Shagarach +seized one of these and wedged it into the crack between two of the +boards. The roar of rage within told them the occupant was watching. + +"Fall to!" said McCausland, scattering his brush-heap with an angry +kick. The three men began prying the boards apart. Several of them +creaked and gave way, and soon nearly the whole front lay in ruins. + +"Surrender!" cried the inspector, pointing his revolver into the +cave-like gloom. There was no reply. The three men peered in, then +entered. The hut was empty! + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +THE SECRET OF THE POOL. + + + +Suddenly a shout from the onlookers behind called them back to the +breach. + +"The roof!" they cried. "He is climbing out by the roof!" + +McCausland and Silsby stepped back to see the top of the hut, while +Shagarach rushed in once more and reached at the ceiling with his bough. + +There on the top of the hut, his body half emerging where the planks had +been shoved aside, McCausland for the first time saw the long-missing +oaf, and Dr. Silsby his peeping Tom. But Shagarach was groping within, +vainly smashing upward in the darkness. + +With wonderful strength the fugitive raised himself erect, sprung from +the insecure footing of the slippery boards, and began clambering up the +ledge. + +"After him, Wolf!" cried McCausland, and the bloodhound, nerved by his +tones, tore up the ledge in the monster's wake. McCausland and Silsby +clambered as best they could on all fours, and presently Shagarach, +hearing the outcry, followed them. The crack of the inspector's revolver +was heard once, but the fugitive had turned like lightning and hurled +his adze. McCausland uttered a sharp cry as the pistol was struck from +his hand. The fugitive then stood for a moment on the crest, twenty feet +above them, outlined in hideous distinctness against the pale patch of +sky. But, espying the hound at his heels, he had given a mad plunge, and +the onlookers, who had drawn nearer, heard a heavy splash behind the +ledge. The bloodhound paused at the summit. + +"After him, Wolf!" urged McCausland, and the dog's plunge was heard, as +heavy as the man's. + +"It is a pool," said Shagarach, gazing into the black water below him. + +"Hemlock lake," answered Dr. Silsby. "The land beyond it is marshy for +miles." + +"And no boat?" asked McCausland. + +"One at the upper end, a mile or so, kept by a farmer." + +"Then it all depends upon Wolf," muttered the detective. The water side +of the precipice afforded no stair for descent, and the party slowly +picked its way down the ledge which it had climbed, and made a circuit, +so as to stand on the grassy edge of the pool. + +"Wolf!" cried McCausland. The dark heads of man and dog had long +vanished from sight. No answer came but the night sighing of the trees +that fringed the dark lake. A pale quarter-moon arose in the open sky +and lent a translucent gloss to its opaque surface. The swallows +twittered high in air, reduced to the size of a bee-swarm. But the lake +gave back no tale of the two that had entered it. + +"Wolf!" cried McCausland, again and again. He whistled till the woods +echoed. He clapped his hands with a hollow reverberation. A plash close +by startled the listeners. But it was only a pickerel rising to his food +or a bullfrog plunging in. Again the mysterious terror invaded the +hearts of the pursuers, and the women clung nearer to the men, clutching +their bosoms. + +Had man and dog reached the other side in safety, there to continue +their terrible race? Had they fought their death struggle in the water, +and one or both of them sunk to his doom? Who could tell? The lake +guarded its secret. + +"It is dark," said Shagarach, but McCausland lingered on the bank, +shading his eyes with his right hand. In his left the empty handcuff +clanked. + +"We have failed," said Dr. Silsby. Then McCausland started with a jerk. + +"To-morrow," he said. "To-morrow may tell." + +"The way back will be hard to find," said Shagarach. + +"Light these," said Dr. Silsby, cutting a pitch-pine bough. It blazed up +almost at the touch of a match, and as the others followed his example +the forest was strangely illuminated, weird shadows playing about the +party. One coming upon them might have taken them for some brigand band +en route to their mountains with plunder. + +"We'll miss the guidance of the hound going home," said Shagarach, and +the women shuddered at the prospect of being lost in the forest at +nightfall. It was an unfrequented place. But there were boys present +whose holiday ramblings might now be turned to good account. + +"Yes, we shall miss Wolf," said McCausland, looking behind him, as if +still hoping for a signal from his faithful hound. + +"Let us explore the hut," proposed Shagarach, entering. + +"And tear it to pieces," cried Dr. Silsby. + +Instantly the roof was torn from the rude pile, and its remaining +timbers, hardly more than rested on end, almost fell asunder of +themselves. A strange heap was revealed by the flickering torches. A +stool, a sheet of tin laid over a clam-bake oven, some cans of prepared +food, half-empty, an old coat, a blanket and a collection of knives, +spikes and other weapons, picked up or stolen, that would have made a +formidable array in the belt of a pirate. One of the lads, who had +lighted a dry rush for a torch, was about to touch off the newspapers +that lay about in great profusion, when McCausland sharply checked him. + +"Bundle those up," he said, and the boys obeyed, while the inspector +curiously scanned one of them by Dr. Silsby's torch. + +"I thought so," he cried in triumph, motioning to Shagarach. "This is +dated, like the others, only two days back--a New York paper again. +The----" he pointed to the name. "He knew where to look for sensations, +you see." + +"A vitriol-throwing case?" asked Shagarach. + +"Read it for yourself," said the detective. + +"At my leisure. We may as well start." + +"Has any one a compass?" asked McCausland. + +"Nonsense," replied Dr. Silsby. "Do I need a compass with the flora to +guide me? There is the fern bed ahead of us, and, by the way, I think +I'll gather a few more specimens." + +"Not now, doctor," remonstrated Shagarach, and the frightened women +echoed him. + +"Tut, tut," said the botanist. "Have I slept out o' night in the woods +since I was so high to be frightened by a little miscalculation of time? +Who asked you to come?" he said to the followers, and the coolness with +which he rooted up several ferns actually reassured his timid +companions. "I'll take your newspapers to wrap them in," said he to one +of the boys, but McCausland interposed. + +"Something else, doctor." + +"My hands, then," said the botanist, cheerfully. And in fact he guided +them out by his trained remembrance of the vegetation he had passed +almost as quickly and surely as the hound had led them in by his scent. + +It was then Miss Senda Wesner proved to Shagarach that for all her +reputation as a chatterbox she could be prudent on occasion. For she +selected a moment when Shagarach was bringing up the rear, to slip off +the arms of her escort and pluck the lawyer's sleeve. + +"Do you know who he was, Mr. Shagarach?" she asked. + +"Who?" + +"The crazy man, I saw him plainly on the top of the rock. It was the +peddler in the green cart that used to come to Prof. Arnold's." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +AN OLD SINGING SOLDIER. + + +"What will remind me of the summer while you are away, dear?" Robert had +said to Emily one morning, little thinking that the sweet girl would +treasure the saying for a whole day and end with a pitiful accusation to +herself of "selfishness" for leaving him. Could she have consulted her +own wish she would have put off the excursion then and there, but a +stateroom had already been booked in the Yarmouth, Beulah Ware was +looking forward joyfully to the trip and Dr. Eustis' orders had been +imperative. So good Mrs. Barlow sensibly stamped her foot at the notion +of her daughter's withdrawal and the maternal fiat went forth finally +and irrevocably that Emily must go. + +But Emily determined that while she was away the bare cell in murderers' +row should not wholly lack touches of the midsummer of whose passing +glories Robert, their loyal votary, was cruelly denied a glimpse. + +And so one day the carpenter came and plotted off a space over a foot +wide at the side of the cell, and the florist followed with a load of +beautiful long sods rolled up like jelly cake, and little potted plants +all in bloom. And the sods were laid down in the trough the carpenter +had made, and places scooped out with a trowel for the roots of the +plants, and presto, there was a flower bed all along the side that got +the sunshine, for Robert's window faced toward the south. + +There were twiggy verbenas and fuchsias of tropic coloring, the +nappy-leaved rose geranium, less highly rouged than its scarlet-flowered +sisters, and blue oxalis along the border, plaintively appealing for +notice with its spray of tiny stars. And lest these should not insinuate +the odor of the country sufficiently into Robert's senses a pot of sweet +basil was suspended from the ceiling to give out fragrance like the live +coal in an acolyte's censer. Robert had complained of sleeplessness. +What was better for this than a pillow stuffed with prunings of a +fir-balsam at night and a sweet-clover cushion by day, when he sat at +his table and wrote down his thoughts on "The Parisian Police Theory of +Concentration of Crime," or some other such momentous topic. + +But the last day, when the finishing touch had been placed on this +narrow bower, over which the shadow of the scaffold so imminently hung, +while Emily was sprinkling the beds with her watering-jar, Robert had +laid aside his pen and was drawing forth sweet music from the violin. + +"How divine it will be, Emily," he said. "The ocean sail and the week at +beautiful Digby!" + +"I wish you were coming, Robert," she answered, sadly. + +"We may arrange a voyage in September. That is the month of glory in the +provinces." + +Robert had never admitted entertaining a doubt as to his acquittal. It +must have been the confinement and the ignominy that had worn him down +and converted his nights into carnivals of restless thought. + +"But I will be with you in imagination," he added, while Emily silently +poured the fine spouting streams over thirsty leaf and flower. Poor +little green prisoners! They, too, would miss the air and the sunshine +and, perhaps, would reproach her, when she returned, with wilted stalks +and withering petals. + +While she hung her head a far-away voice stole over the high jailyard +wall, through the narrow cell window, into the lover's ears. It was a +tenor voice, not without reminiscences of bygone sweetness, though worn, +and still powerful as if from incessant use. Something in its tones told +the listeners that it was no common youth of the city trolling a snatch. +For when do such sing, except in derision of song, with grating irony +that is ashamed of the feelings to which true song gives expression? We +are ashamed of our best impulses and proud of our worst, we cynical city +folk! But this was a street singer, a minstrel, musical and sincere. +Straining their attention, the lovers caught here and there the import +of this ballad. Or was it a ballad repeated by rote? Was it not rather a +recitative improvised as the impulse came, both words and music? + +He sang of the southward march of armed battalions. Their ranks were +full, their banners untattered, and the men shouted watchwords of joy +when they beheld the battle-ground before them. A great chieftain stood +mounted and motioned them into place with his brandished sword. Grant! +Grim Grant! They echoed his name. Then came the thunder of artillery +from distant hills, and the lines of the enemy's rifles were seen +glistening as they advanced. The defenders did not linger, but rushed +forward to meet them and their embrace was the death-lock of Titans. +Hurrah, the chivalry of the south give way! It is cavalry Sheridan who +routs them! Then the sun stood at its meridian. It was the noon of all +glory, for the northern crusaders, doing battle in the just cause. Oh, +the chase, the rallies, the heroic stands, and the joyful return, with +plunder! But the corpse-strewn field checked their paean. Sire and son +lay clasped in death, facing each other. The garb of one was gray, of +the other blue. Ambulances issued empty from the hospital tents, and +rode back groaning with the wounded. Nurses knelt with water cups at the +dying hero's side. And until night closed over, sorrow mingled with joy +in that bivouac by the fresh-fought field. + +A loud salvo of applause told that the singer was done. Emily could see +in her mind's eye the ring at the sidewalk edge, arrested in the course +of meaner thoughts or idle vacuity by his heart-moving story. The gift +of Homer, in a humble degree, was his; and men to-day are not unlike +what they were 3,000 years ago. Robert had long since hushed his violin +and stood with bow suspended in air. + +"Emily!" he said in a strange tone. + +She looked at him and started. He was eying her so eagerly. + +"Emily!" he repeated. + +The bow dropped from his hand. He reached forward as if he would touch +her. + +"What is it, Robert?" she asked. + +"The water-lily. You are still wearing it?" + +"Still wearing it, Robert. I put it on this morning." + +Robert uttered a cry. + +"It comes back! It comes back!" he said. "The old singing soldier that I +met at the park gate. He is blind and wears a brown shade over one eye. +His hair is white when he takes off his cap and passes among the crowd. +I see him again! I see it all!" + +Robert's gaze was far away. He was not looking at Emily, yet he heard +her voice. + +"When was this all, Robert?" + +"That day, the day of the fire. I could not remember before." + +She repressed a throb of joy. Was it indeed returning? God was good. He +had at last answered her prayers. + +"And the water-lily, Robert?" + +"Do you not remember, Emily, that I brought you one that evening? It was +the first of the season, I told you." + +"I do--I do!" + +"Search out the old gardener, who lives in the lodge at the west angle +of the park. He will remember. 'This is the first of the season,' he +said. He will remember the date. He will have kept some memorandum." + +"And you talked with him, Robert?" + +"We are friends of old. He will remember the incident--our stroll into +the glen where the little pond glistens, my noting the one white flower +floating among the pads, our poling the flat-bottomed boat from the bank +and the courteous speech of presentation he made. 'For your sweetheart,' +he said. Oh, it is as plain to me now as the sound of my own voice, +Emily. How could I ever have forgotten?" + +"It is Providence who sent us the old singing soldier," said Emily. "Let +us thank Him for His mercy." + +Then Robert ran over detail after detail of that afternoon, when he +rambled from the house, burdened with the fresh grief of his uncle's +death--seeing little, hearing little, mechanically following a familiar +route, all his outer senses muffled, as it were. The great shock of the +calamity when he came home late at night had canceled even the feeble +impressions that lingered, and not till the voice of the old singing +soldier came to his ears once more was the impediment removed. + +Now the events rushed upon him, few in number, but clearly, +microscopically outlined. The sight of the lily brought up the image of +the gardener. He could no longer be suspected of hiding himself after +the fire or of secret escape with confederates, or of other conduct that +might require concealment and a mask of affected forgetfulness. + +"The last link of his chain is broken," said Emily, joyfully, meaning, +no doubt, the great inspector's. This happy turn of affairs reconciled +her more than anything else to her vacation trip, and it was a gladsome +farewell the sweethearts took that day. + +On her way through the city she heard again the chant of the old singing +soldier and a gush of gratitude impelled her to follow him. He was +indeed blind and wore the brown shade as Robert had described. A little +girl clung to his coat and guided him when he walked, and the cap he +held out bore the initials of the Grand Army and was ribboned with +silver cord. The bystanders stared at the sweet-faced lady who laid a +bill in the maiden's hand and hurried off without waiting for her "Thank +you," hurried off to acquaint Shagarach of the glad, good news. + +It was not until she reached the upper flight of the office stairs that +she remembered that it was Shagarach's suggestion that she wear a +pond-lily now and then so as to start if possible the clogged wheels of +her lover's recollection, as we shake a stopped watch to make it go. + +There was a similar case, too, in "The Diseases of Memory." + +"But it was heaven," she said, "that brought us the old singing +soldier." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +THE OCEAN NIGHT. + + +"Tristram!" + +The artist started at his sister's voice. He had been lounging over the +steamer's side watching a full-rigged ship in the offing. Its majestic +sails glistened as white as snow, but the heaving motion from bow to +stern was apparent even at that distance. For the sea was all hills and +hollows, and the Yarmouth herself lay darkened under the shadow of a +cloud. + +"Let me break in on your reverie. This is my brother--Miss Barlow--Miss +Ware." + +"We shall have a storm," said Tristram, after the formalities. + +"Oh, I hope not," cried all three ladies. They had become acquainted +while watching the patent log on the saloon-deck stern, which Beulah +Ware, who knew almost everything, had explained for Rosalie's +information. + +"It was due when we started," said Tristram. + +"And you never told me," cried Rosalie. + +"You would have postponed the trip, my dear." + +"Make everything tight," came the cheery voice of the captain. "Get your +wraps on, ladies. It's going to pour in a hurry." + +"Do let us remain outside," cried Beulah. "I've nothing on that will +spoil, under a waterproof." + +The others assented, and Tristram and Beulah disappeared for a few +moments, returning with mackintoshes and rubber cloaks. + +"There, you look like fisher folk," said Tristram, when the ladies had +pulled the cowls of their glazed garments over their heads. + +"And romantic for the first time, I suppose," said Rosalie. "Tristram is +a great stickler for barbarism, you know." + +"Esthetically," said Tristram. + +"He has positive ideas." + +"Of negative value." + +The rain had begun to spatter the deck beneath them and the cool wind +was working its own will with their garments. They were almost alone on +the quarter-deck. An officer eyed them loftily. + +"That is the first mate," said Tristram. + +"How can you tell?" asked Rosalie. + +"Because he is so far off. The captain is always approachable. The first +mate is rather distant, the second mate more so. The third mate is +rarely visible to the naked eye." + +"Hear that bell," cried Emily. + +A ding-dong clangor resounded through the ship. + +"Supper! All hands to supper!" piped the steward. "Early supper! +Captain's orders! Early supper!" + +"Hang the captain's orders!" said Tristram. "This is better than +supper." + +But the foamy crest of a great wave that was level with the bow was +caught just then by the wind and hurled up in their faces. The ladies +sputtered, drenched with the spray, and the water seethed at their feet. +Of course they shrieked and there was nothing for it but to descend and +repair to their staterooms to prepare for the supper. + +The dishes were clattering and dancing like marionettes. Capt. Keen had +acted wisely in ordering an early supper. If the sea increased it would +soon be impossible to eat at all. + +"Isn't this superb?" cried the enthusiast again, as the vessel +perceptibly rose under them, but she fell so suddenly that he probably +bit his tongue. At least for a moment his eloquence abated. + +"Now to go above again," he said when at last the tipping of the dishes +made satisfactory eating no longer possible. "What a rare quality +portability is! The portable arts--music and poetry; the portable +instruments--fiddles, flutes, etc.; the portable eatables (excuse the +unhappy jingle)--oranges, bananas, biscuits." + +Suiting the word to the action, he laid in a liberal supply himself and +pressed as much more on each of the ladies. He was not so unpractical as +he seemed, our friend Tristram, with all his badinage and transparent +sophistries. + +"But you are not seriously going out on deck?" cried his sister in some +alarm, when he made for the stairs. + +"And surely you are not going to remain in?" answered Tristram in +feigned astonishment. "Lose this glorious sea picture? Atmosphere, +nature's own murk; canvas, infinity; music furnished by old Boreas +himself, master of Beethoven and Rubinstein; accompaniments, night, +sleet, danger and the lightning." + +"I fear we are philistines," said Beulah Ware; "we prefer painted storms +and the mimic thunders of the symphony." + +"Accompaniment, dry dresses," added Rosalie. Whereupon Tristram +gallantly saw the ladies housed in his sister's cabin and left them, +lunching on his portable eatables, but not a little anxious while he +himself climbed up to his perch on the quarter-deck. The sea tumbled +over the steamer when she cut her way into a billow, but Tristram had +drawn on thick boots and felt prepared to rough it. + +"Better lash yourself down," cried the captain warningly. The artist's +answer was lost in the tempest. + +There was little sleep for the passengers on the Yarmouth that night. +Stewards and matrons passed about reassuring them. The boat was +seaworthy; everything was locked in; they could lie on their pillows +with an absolute certainty of rising on the morrow with the Nova Scotia +shore in view. Only they wouldn't. They dared not. And as Rosalie looked +as timid as any one, her new acquaintances conspired to remain with her +in her stateroom, all three sharing the two cots and getting what naps +they could. + +They had run out of talk and were almost drowsing when the great crash +came. Have you felt your heart jump when a pistol-shot smites the +silence? No crack of land ordnance could inspire the fear that +resounding bump did in the breasts of the apprehensive girls. + +"A rock!" was the thought of each, but they only expressed their terror +in an inarticulate shriek. Then the whimpering of women and the cries of +men were heard in the saloon. + +"We are sinking!" cried some one, and the girls rushed out. A hundred +white-clad forms darted to and fro like gnats in a swarm, or clung +together, wringing their hands in misery. Some of the men fought to +unbar the doors. But they were bolted from the outside. The whole cabin +was penned in there to drown. Then each one felt for his dearest. + +"Tristram!" moaned Rosalie, knocking at his stateroom door. "Tristram!" +But there came no answer. "He is out on the deck! He is swept away and +drowned!" she cried, with truer tears than the imagined sorrows of +Desdemona had ever drawn from her eyes. But Tristram was safe in the +pilot's box, where Capt. Keen was signaling the engineer to reverse his +engines; and the engineer, shut in amid the deafening clangor of his +machinery, ignorant of what had happened but trained to his duty, obeyed +promptly his bell and forced the great vessel back. + +The headlights of the Yarmouth had been doused out long before, and +there was no lantern that could live in that surge, even if it were +possible to hang a second one aloft From time to time the captain had +ordered a rocket sent up, to warn approaching vessels, for the air was +densely opaque. Only out of the gloom before them, just before the shock +came, Tristram could see a long row of lights, feeble and flickering. +His imagination constructed the broadside of a steamship about them and +once it seemed that he really did catch a vague, shadowy outline. But +the reality became certain to another sense. Before the Yarmouth's +engines were reversed and her bow disengaged itself, a wail of terror +reached him out of the night, and a tearing as of parted timbers. Then +hoarse shouts were heard from the emptiness soaring high above the wind. + +"We stove in her side," said the captain. Then a signal rocket, hissing +into the quenching rain, told him of his fellow's distress. The Yarmouth +still receded. The double row of lights was withdrawn into the gloom. +But the wailing increased and from the covered cabin below rose the +responsive clamor of the passengers. + +"Say that we have struck a vessel," telephoned the captain to the +steward. After several repetitions the message was understood and it +quieted the half-clad throng a little. But anxiety was legible on every +face. + +Twice more the signal of distress went up and the captain answered it, +though helpless to assist. Then the air was blank. + +"Head her east," said the captain to the pilot. He knew by the lights +that the other vessel was pointed to the larboard when she crossed his +bow. He could not back forever or heave to in that sea. He must +circumnavigate the vessel or the vortex if she were sunk. So he nosed +his prow oceanward into the teeth of the wind. Under these +circumstances the headway of his boat was slow. + +"Ahoy!" + +Was it a voice from the darkness? A huge wave rose over them like a +cliff and hurled itself against the strong glass of the pilot's window. +In a moment they were soused and the wind blowing in upon them told them +that their brittle sheath was shattered. But the electric globes still +cast their white gleams over the foredeck and revealed a dark object +that was not there before. + +"A boat!" cried Tristram. + +"Save them!" shouted Capt. Keen, rushing down the steps, with the artist +at his heels. It was indeed a lifeboat, which had been carried on the +crest of a billow clear over the Yarmouth's gunwale and left high, if +not dry. Only five forms could be seen--three of them stirring, the +other two motionless. All were men. + +"Climb!" shouted Keen, seizing one of the limp bodies in his arms. +Tristram caught up the other and staggered back in the direction of the +light, the three wrecked men following and grappling at them in their +bewilderment. Another wave like the last and they were lost, all seven. +But these great surges come in rhythmic intervals. Rescuers and rescued +reached the pilot house in safety. + +"Who are you, shipmates?" asked the captain, pouring brandy down the +mouths of the unconscious men. The others answered in German. + +"The Hamburg liner, Osric," translated Tristram. "She broke her rudder +and was driven off her course by the gale." + +"Heaven save us from meeting any more such driftwood," said the pilot +unsteadily with a hiccough. + +"Were any other boats out?" asked Capt. Keen. Tristram interpreted +question and answer. + +"Two others, but they were swamped. All on board are lost." + +A thrill went through the strong men. Usage does not render sailors +callous to the perils of the sea. Death under the ocean is still the +most awe-inspiring of fates--the doom of the irrecoverable body, of the +skeleton lying on the bottom, like a coral freak. + +"Mostly immigrants from Germany and Sweden," answered the spokesman to +the next question. All five were common sailors. They had waited their +turn and the captain had ordered them into the lifeboat when it came. He +himself had stood by his sinking ship to the end. + +In a lull of the breaking seas, Tristram and Capt. Keen picked their way +down into the cabin. The captain's appearance was a signal for a cheer. +He addressed the passengers briefly, outlined the terrible event and +assured them that, as lightning never strikes twice in the same spot, +they might turn in and count on a clear voyage oceanward for the rest of +the night. He could not control the weather or promise them sleep. But +he felt so safe himself that he had just come down to retire for his own +spell of slumber. + +This little lie was one of those which the recording angel will blot +away with tears. The old salt would no more have slept that night than +he would have taken a dose of poison. Even for the few minutes he was +below he had been as uneasy within as a young mother when she sees her +baby in the arms of some one whose carelessness she has good reason to +dread. The pilot was in liquor, and Capt. Keen, making a quick tour aft +so that every one might get a view of him and a cheery word, together +with a brazen repetition of his salutary invention, simply turned into +the cook's room forward and swung himself out by its skylight-hatch. +Meanwhile Tristram elbowed his way through the crowd to Rosalie. His +reappearance soothed her, but she was still hysterical, and the good +offices of the other two ladies were found seasonable during the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +ON DIGBY SHORE. + + +Daylight rose, gray and hollow-eyed, on the Atlantic. The sun was merely +a moving brightness in the sky. Ocean, the blind Titan, still heaved and +roared, playing his part in some grander drama than ours of flesh and +blood--ingulfing sailor or bark as we crush the poor gnat toward whom +neither pagan sage nor Christian doctor enjoins mercy--cruel without +enmity, indifferent without contempt, divider or uniter of continents +according to his chance-born mood. + +The storm had scarcely begun to die. But with a clear outlook forward it +was possible once more for the sturdy Yarmouth to resume her course. +With Capt Keen himself at the wheel, she steamed into the narrow harbor +of the little city whose name she bore, situated on the nearest eastward +tip of the Nova Scotia peninsula, half a day late, but with her 300 +passengers safe and sound. + +Several days later, our party of four were peacefully rowing across the +calm waters of Digby bay--that isleless harbor of purest ultramarine, +where the Bay of Fundy has cloven its way through peaks still wooded to +the water's edge and lifts and lowers its huge tides as far north as +Annapolis, at the head of the valley of Evangeline. Chance would have +it that this resort was the destination of the Marches as well as +Emily and Beulah; and the acquaintance made on shipboard under such +unusual circumstances was already ripening into something like +friendship--perhaps more than friendship--between Tristram and Beulah +Ware. + +She was his opposite, his complementary color, as he said to Rosalie, +and so she harmonized with him and perhaps comprehended him, as Rosalie +at times did not. In only one thing did she agree with Tristram's +sister. She misunderstood his irony; for her own speech was yea, yea. + +"Let us cross over to the camp of the Micmacs," proposed the artist, +resting on his oars. + +"Are they real Indians?" asked Emily. + +"Full-blooded. See their tepees." A cluster of conical tents could be +seen rising from the dark foliage on the hillside. For Digby rises from +the water with a slope like a toboggan slide all the way up to the white +cottages on its crest. + +"There is a specimen," said Tristram, as a canoe skimmed by them. "Isn't +he noble? The great face, the grim mouth, the high cheek-bones, the +straight hair--it is a bronze mask of Saturn. I may utilize him." + +"When?" + +"When I carve my life group for the Academy's grand prize." + +"Have you chosen your subject?" + +"Driftwood Pickers at the Sea Level." + +Beulah Ware looked up. She had suggested it the day before, while +strolling alone with the man of hazy purposes. + +The boat was beached without difficulty and the ladies stepped +ashore--Beulah Ware collectedly, as usual, but Emily and Rosalie as +warily as you may have seen a lame pigeon alighting. + +"Let us follow my leader," said Tristram, meaning the brown canoeist, +who had shouldered his craft and was climbing the beach. + +"What is that?" cried Emily, pointing to an object that was tossing on +the sands. + +"A body," said the others, recoiling, but Tristram walked in the +direction indicated. It proved on closer inspection to be the body of a +woman, stout and tall. Her long yellow hair floated in the surf, but the +features were swollen beyond recognition. It was impossible to tell +whether she was old or young. Only her clothing, which was thick and of +foreign style, denoted a woman of the poorer class. + +"Is it a body?" asked Rosalie, apparently doubting the evidence of her +eyes. The quick assemblage of a crowd rendered an answer unnecessary. +There were men and women watching all along the Nova Scotia coast in +those weary days. Schooners and smacks had put out before the storm, +perhaps to be blown far out of their course and suffer the hardships of +hunger and shipwreck, perhaps to founder in midocean and never to +return. So the body rolling in the surf at the water's edge had been +espied by others before the party of four landed, and there was a +converging stream of searchers from bush and cottage, and even from the +lonely tepees. + +"Search her pockets," said one, and the woman's dress was torn open. A +packet of papers came out, but the ink had run and the paper was as soft +as jelly. + +"She has been in the water a week," cried another. + +"Perhaps it is a body from the Osric," suggested a boy. + +The party of four shrunk in greater horror. There were rumors of +lifeboats that had been launched and swamped from the sunken steamer. +Could one of the bodies have been carried up the Bay of Fundy on its +swift-running tide, forced by a current through Digby Gut, and cast +ashore on this unfrequented beach? + +"See if her linen is marked?" asked a woman who held a baby. But the +search proved fruitless. No stenciled initials, not even a brand on the +shoes, to identify the unfortunate. A truck was suggested to carry her +up to the town. + +"One moment," said Tristram, "her ring may be engraved." + +The slender gold circlet was deeply imbedded in the flesh, but a +fisherman ruthlessly cut it loose with his knife. Tristram held it up to +the light and read a name from the inside. + +"Bertha Lund," he read. + +Emily Barlow turned pale and glanced at Beulah Ware. If she could have +looked across the ocean to the city just then and seen Inspector +McCausland closeted with the district attorney, she would have been +confirmed in her fears. The detective was scanning a list of the +passengers on the Osric. + +"Bertha Lund, Upsala, Sweden. That is her birthplace. She was to return +on the Osric," he said, uneasily. + +"Then it must be she," answered the district attorney. "It is most +unfortunate. However, we have her testimony at the hearing. We do not +rely solely upon her." + +But Emily did rely solely upon Bertha's knowledge, and her heart sunk +within her. Without Bertha, there was only Robert to describe the room +as she wished it described. And would people believe Robert in so novel, +so miraculous, a junction of circumstances as her theory demanded? + +"Read that again, please," she cried to Tristram. + +"Bertha Lund," Tristram seemed puzzled a moment by the third word, +"Bertha Lund, Upsala." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +TURNPIKE TOLL. + + +"So to-morrow is the day of the trial, Miss Barlow?" + +Mrs. Riley was pinning the bandage on Walter's neck, while Emily +buttoned his jacket. She and the quondam Whistler had become fast +friends, especially since the day of the struggle in Shagarach's office, +and now that his burns were healing and he was able to get out they had +arranged a Sunday afternoon excursion to Hemlock grove, with some vague +hope of visiting the site of the demolished hut, if Walter's strength +could carry him so far. There would be no lack of guides, for the spot +had already become locally famous. + +"Yes," answered Emily, "the talesmen have been sifted down to twelve at +last." + +"May the good Lord put mercy in their hearts," prayed Mrs. Riley. + +"I wish it was a jury of ladies," said Walter. + +"Why, ladies are never selected for the jury," cried his mother. + +"Jurywomen is a word not yet included in the dictionaries," smiled +Emily. + +"But they are all so kind," said Walter simply, but in such a way that +his mother and Emily might each take half of the compliment. The bright +slum boy was already losing all trace of his plebeian associations, as +the innate aristocracy of his nature asserted itself. How luckily he was +placed, if he could have foreseen. To begin at the lower-most round of +the ladder, but with the unconquerable instinct in him to climb; and so +at last, on the topmost round, to have the whole of life for a +retrospect. + +Mrs. Riley bade them a proud good-by and watched them from her window +boarding the car. The down-town ride on a Sunday is always curious, for +the desertion of the usually crowded streets gives them a foreign +appearance. Emily was commenting on this when Walter called her +attention to something in the sky. + +"Look, it's a man," he said, pointing almost vertically upward. + +"Where?" she asked, leaning forward. + +"On the top of the Amory building. He is calling for help." + +The Amory building was the tallest structure in the city, the tenants in +the sixteenth story enjoying a view that swept in the entire harbor and +flattened the men walking in the avenues below to the dimensions of +crawling flies. + +"We can change cars here, Walter. Let us get off and see." + +From the sidewalk Emily could distinguish the minute figure of a man +leaning over the parapet around the roof, and shouting through his hands +to attract attention. + +"Perhaps it is on fire," she said in alarm, framing the thought that lay +uppermost in her mind. + +"I think he wants to get down," suggested Walter, although not a word +of the man's vociferations could be heard. + +"Let us speak to the policeman," said Emily, just as a large hat came +sailing down on Walter's head. It crossed her mind that the broad brim +had a familiar look. The patrolman followed her index finger with his +glance and presently there was a knot of passers-by doing likewise. Then +the knot grew to a crowd, and the crowd to a multitude. Meanwhile the +officer had hunted up the janitor of the building and both entered +through the great carved doors. About five minutes later they came down, +with a heavily laden, portly gentleman, who seemed taken aback when the +crowd hurrahed him. + +"Dr. Silsby!" cried Emily. He looked about in surprise. + +"Miss Barlow," he said, shaking his head, "here's a to-do. I suppose +you'll go right over and tell that Rob." + +"Tell him what?" + +"Tell him I got lost in the heart of the city I was born in," grumbled +the botanist so that she could hardly help laughing. "Well, what are you +sniggling at?" he shouted at the crowd, who fell back a little at this. + +"And were you lost up there?" + +"Haven't had a bite to eat since yesterday noon. Made a call on that +ninny, Hodgkins, about his confounded will. Judge is going to decide +against him and we'll have our academia after all." + +"Good! Good!" cried Emily, clapping her hands. + +"Office on the sixteenth floor. Ninny was out. Took my specimens up to +the roof. Got worked up. Scribbled notes for my new lecture on----" + +"I know. Rob told me. On the beneficent activity of the great horned +owl. How interesting!" + +Dr. Silsby glared. + +"Janitor missed me. Didn't notice the time. Locked out. Slept four hours +all night, and now I'm hoarse from bawling ten. What's the matter with +Sleepy Hollow? Are they all in bed?" + +"Why, this is Sunday morning," explained Emily, repressing her +merriment. + +"They ought to have ladders up there, so a man could climb down," +grumbled Dr. Silsby. + +Walter thought this a somewhat unreasonable demand. + +"You might have descended by the mail chute," said Emily, laughing +outright, "and then the postman would have collected you just before +breakfast." + +The learned doctor made no reply, so they left him shuffling away in +search of a restaurant. + +"I do hope Judge Dunder will allow the will," she said; and it took the +whole ride to explain the why of this hope to her eager auditor. + +At Woodlawn they were directed to Hemlock grove and wandered among its +dark trees, peace-breathing in themselves, but haunted for them by the +vague pervasive shadow of a tragedy. The hut was too far for Walter's +strength, so they turned off at an angle, following a footpath which +they knew would lead to some road. Once or twice they heard a murmur of +voices, seeming to come from the left. It was very deep and indistinct +and not unlike the mooing of a cow. But her bell would have tinkled if +it had really been a stray tenant of the milk-shed. + +"What is it, Walter?" asked Emily. It had sounded again, this time more +humanly and close to their ears. They had been moving toward it +unawares. + +Walter only clutched her arm in answer. + +"Look!" he said, and she saw his eyes white with distension of the lids. +"It is the oaf." + +Through a parting in the boughs Emily saw the sight. There was a little +cemetery near by, unpretending but neat with scattered headstones. In +the midst of it, kneeling with his forehead bared and his eyes +up-lifted, was the human monster who had woven himself into their life +so terribly. What was he doing? Should she run? Her first impulse was to +fly, but a fascination held her. The oaf's face was averted and they +were screened from his gaze. + +Looked at now, the creature's countenance was less repulsive than she +had thought. Emily had only seen it convulsed with murderous passion, +and those who had described it to her had beheld it under similar +circumstances. Yet at best it was horribly misshapen. + +"Is he crying?" asked Walter. Strange to say, the oaf seemed to be +shedding tears and the quick sympathy went out from Emily's bosom, in +spite of the past. + +"Hark!" + +Emily pulled Walter back, as he leaned forward too eagerly to catch what +he was saying. + +The oaf moaned in a guttural tone that swelled to its close, crescendo. +Then he threw himself on the mound before which he knelt. + +It was a grave. No headstone covered it. The mourners of the dead who +house there were either forgetful or poor. But strange little bunches of +withered wild flowers were strewn upon it. And a heap of fresher flowers +lay at one side. What was the monster doing? + +With his fingers he scooped out hollows in the earth, then lifted the +cut daisies and buttercups he had brought, with many a late violet and +honeysuckle, and laid their stalks one by one in the cavities. Holding +them in place, he propped them up with the loosened earth, till all +along the narrow mound there was a bloom of red and yellow and blue. +Then the oaf rose and looked down upon his work, with a childish +pleasure. + +"Does he think they will grow that way?" asked Walter, but Emily put her +finger on her lips. The oaf began muttering in a low, indistinct murmur, +like one soothing a child. + +Suddenly he drew his soiled hands across his brow. The streaks of earth +added to his hideousness and his expression had changed. Some new +current of thought was in his mind. He ground his teeth, as Walter had +seen him in Shagarach's office, and roared with fists clenched at some +invisible adversary. + +"Run, run," called Walter, dragging Emily with him along the little +footpath--on, on. They could hear their own footsteps echoed behind, +but the roars did not appear to be gaining on them. + +"Faster! Faster!" urged Emily, as Walter weakened. The briers scratched +her dress, the boughs brushed in her face, but what were these to the +monster behind them? She dared not turn, lest his fierce eyes should be +glaring into hers and his grimy hands clutch at her flying hair. + +"I cannot keep up," cried Walter breathing hard, when they had covered a +quarter of a mile. + +"Oh, Walter, try!" cried Emily, dragging him in her turn. + +"I cannot. I can only walk. He is not behind us," he added. Emily slowed +up and peeped around timidly. The expected image did not confront her. +The woods had a less lonely look here, but they were perfectly still. + +"Have we escaped him?" she said, all flushed and out of breath. Without +the wings of fear, she could not have run a third of the distance. + +Walter held his breath to listen before he answered. There was not a +stir in the woods save the sighing of the leaves. + +"Let us walk on fast," he said, and Emily was glad to moderate her pace. +But they had not proceeded twenty steps, when again she started off, +dragging Walter by the hand. This time the sound was on their right. The +oaf had crossed the path and was tearing through the woods. With the +advantage of the smooth path they might outstrip him and get to the +road, where succor could be had. + +"Oh, I cannot go farther," cried Emily, fainting. "Leave me, Walter, and +bring help as soon as you can." The elastic sinews of the boy had +recovered their strength and he was now the fresher of the two. + +"Only a little farther, Miss Barlow. I can see the road through the +trees." + +The pursuer seemed to have slowed his own pace to a walk. Once they +caught a glimpse of his form. He was not aiming at them straight but +slantingly toward the road, as if he would head them off. At present he +was almost abreast and gaining. + +"There is the road and a cottage," said Walter, but the pursuer was +ahead of them now, running swiftly. They could see him leap the wall +only ten paces off, just as they emerged from the footpath. Bewildered +and spent, Emily turned the wrong way and ran straight into the arms of +Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. + +"Turnpike toll!" exclaimed the manikin, deliriously prolonging the +accidental embrace, while Emily strove to tear herself away in a flurry +of amazement, horror and disgust. + +"Let her alone!" cried Walter, clutching at Kennedy's neck. But the +manikin took no account of the boy, merely cuffing him over the ears, +and endeavoring to force a kiss upon Emily. + +"Forgive me, Emily--Miss Barlow," he said at last, while she stood +flaming like a rose with indignation. "Forgive me if I press my suit too +ardently----" + +But he was not afforded an opportunity to continue his amorous speech. +Walter Riley possessed a spirit which rose against cuffing. Weak and +weary as he was, he drew off after a moment's survey, to get the import +of the conversation, and sent the manikin spinning with a blow that +brought blood drops from his nose. Kennedy felt the trickling organ in +momentary confusion, but before his idol he could not show the white +feather. + +Whack! Whack! He brought his cane--bulldog end for a handle--down on the +boy's shoulder, neck and head--bursting the bandages over his still +acutely tender burns. Walter clinched, but Kennedy threw him off and +continued his caning. Even Emily's intercession only brought her a smart +rap over the fingers with which she tried to grasp his weapon. + +"You brute!" she exclaimed, and threw herself between Kennedy and the +boy. But help from another quarter was at hand. A tall, lithe form +vaulted a neighboring wall and the swish of a horsewhip cut the air. It +must have cut something else, for Kennedy hopped and turned, and +presently was capering with as much agility as if the ground were redhot +iron. Emily could hear the repeated swishes and the manikin's +supplications, but she did not look up. She was stroking Walter's +forehead. The boy had fainted in her arms. + +"It's me, Harry. It's Kennedy. Don't you know me?" + +This cry caused her to turn. + +"It's a coward. Run." + +Emily had heard the voice only once before, in that eventful ride to +Hillsborough; but she would have known Harry Arnold instantly from his +photograph. How broad-chested he was! How superb! Yet there was +something feverish in his excitement now. He came toward her, raising +his hat. + +"I have to apologize for a slight acquaintance with that blackguard, +which led me to refuse at first to credit his conduct. Otherwise I might +have been of assistance earlier." + +"Slight acquaintance? You owe me twelve hundred and by George you'll pay +it," snarled Kennedy, moving away. Harry never turned. + +"The boy has fainted. He must come up to the house." + +The "cottage" in view, then, was the Arnold house. A carriage stood in +front of the terrace at the head of the gravel drive which led up from +the turnpike. Harry had probably just arrived home from an afternoon +spin through the suburbs. + +"Thank you, Mr. Arnold----" Emily stopped, but the mischief was out. +Harry had lifted the unconscious boy tenderly in his strong arms and was +carrying him up the drive. He turned and smiled, showing his beautiful +teeth, but, seeing Emily's confusion, did not speak the words that were +on his lips. Inside the house he called for Indigo. + +"Some wine," he ordered. + +"And a little sweet oil, if you have it," added Emily; for the neck +bandage had been torn away and the vitriol burn was bleeding from one of +Kennedy's blows. + +"This is Walter Riley," said Emily, at last recovering from her +embarrassment, "Mr. Shagarach's clerk, who was assaulted about ten days +ago." + +She studied Harry's face as she bathed the tender part with the sweet +oil and poor, sick-eyed Walter revived under the wine. But there was no +expression other than one of surprise crossed with sympathy. + +"And yourself, may I ask?" + +"I am Miss Barlow." + +Harry's astonishment reached a climax at this, but he was too well bred +to display it. + +"I am delighted to have you for my guest, Miss Barlow. It is unfortunate +that my mother is not at home. We have both admired your efforts in +behalf of Rob. And Miss March was just speaking of you." + +By the time that Walter was ready to go home, Emily had fixed with +feminine absoluteness her opinion about Harry's innocence. + +But then she was under a heavy debt to Harry. He had rid her once for +all of the impertinences of Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +THE HEEL OF ACHILLES. + + +"I shall be compelled to alter my theory at one point," said Shagarach. + +"Yet your general conviction remains unchanged?" + +"Absolutely. Your cousin is capable of the crime. A powerful motive was +present. We have traced him to the door of the room. What factor is +wanting?" + +"I cannot believe it of Harry," said Robert, shaking his head +doubtfully. "But what has occurred to cause you to reconstruct your +theory?" + +"My interview with Dr. Whipple, his physician." + +"Harry was ill at the time, I believe?" + +"He is able to prove an alibi." + +"A hard obstacle to get over," said Robert. + +"But not insurmountable," replied the lawyer. "Dr. Whipple happens to +be the most methodical of men. 'At 3:48 p. m., on Saturday, June 28, I +took Mr. Harry Arnold's pulse in his own room at Woodlawn,' said he, +consulting his notes. 'It was eighty-three beats to the minute.'" + +"Rather high," said Robert. + +"'Abnormal,' Dr. Whipple observed, 'something on his mind, I should say. +Overexcitement, worry, the fever of modern life.' His diagnosis was +incorrect; but the time is important. The fire was discovered, you +remember, at 3:30." + +"So Harry couldn't have set it and got to Woodlawn," said Robert, as if +sincerely glad. + +"Not in his mother's carriage, as I had surmised," said Shagarach. "But +an express train leaves the Southern depot at 3:29. It arrives in +Woodlawn at 3:45. Harry crossed Broad street from the passageway after +setting fire to the study--it is barely a minute's walk--there caught +the train and reached Woodlawn at 3:45. His house is close to the +station. Dr. Whipple found him feverish and with rapid pulse from the +excitement of his crime and the hurried escape." + +"His mother stated, however, when she called, earlier in the afternoon, +that she had left him at home ill," said Robert, thoughtfully. + +"She is solicitous about his delicate health," said Shagarach, with +almost imperceptible irony. The delicate health of the powerful +canoeist, the victorious steeplechaser, need hardly weigh on the most +tender mother's mind. This was their last consultation before the trial, +and the lawyer shook Robert's hand with a word of encouragement when he +left the young man to his hopes and forebodings. + +The lawyer turned into a byway which carried him through the Ghetto. + +Solomon and Rachel were sitting on their doorsteps, fanning away the +heat of the August afternoon. + +"There goes Shagarach," said someone. + +"He who fawns on the gentiles," said another, "that he may obtain places +from them." + +"He is ashamed of his father's blood; he will deny his mother," was the +taunt of a third. + +"Who is it?" asked the boys, flocking up. + +"It is Shagarach, who was called an apostate in the Messenger last +week." + +Jewish boys nearly all learn enough of Hebrew to read the characters. +They understood the answer and passed it along to their comrades. + +"Here comes Shagarach, who was printed among the apostates," they cried, +edging near the lawyer, while the older folks prudently contented +themselves with passing remarks. + +Shagarach only turned a deaf ear and a pitying glance upon his misguided +people. But as he chanced to look into the window of Silberstein's +store, the first page of the Messenger, conspicuously spread out, +attracted his attention, and he saw, under a black heading, among a list +of "apostates" his own name, with the description "Gentile Judge." The +malevolent features of Simon Rabofsky scowled at him from within, but +were instantly withdrawn. Shagarach, however, stopped and rung the bell, +while the circle around him stared in wonder. Was the pervert going into +Nathan Silberstein's house? + +There was a long pause before any one answered. The maid who finally +came was wiping her hands on her apron. + +"Good-evening, Mrs. Silberstein," said the lawyer. "I am Meyer +Shagarach, of whom you have doubtless heard. I desire to see Simon +Rabofsky, who, I perceive, is within." + +A great flurry of moving chairs could be heard, as though the +convocation was breaking up. + +"Bid him not depart." Shagarach was already in the narrow entry, with +the door closed behind him, and the stupefied woman in front. "Simon +Rabofsky," he cried, after the form which was disappearing through a +rear door. It stopped reluctantly. + +"I wish to confer with you and with Moses Cohen. He is there. I saw him +through the window. The others may go or stay, as they please." + +Cohen and Rabofsky stood before Shagarach in the store. + +"Sit down. Draw down the curtain," said the lawyer to Mrs. Silberstein, +who with her husband and the others stood on the threshold listening. + +"'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord. As an interpreter of the +scriptures, you have met that text, Simon Rabofsky?" + +"It is graven on my heart," said the money-lender, with unction. + +"Liar, thief and hypocrite!" cried Shagarach, "you are as vindictive as +the viper, who stings the hand of his benefactor. Our conference shall +be short. I spare your white hairs before these people who respect you. +See to it that I walk through this street unmolested and I may forbear +for a time to punish you for the perjury you committed and the receipt +of stolen articles." + +"I had not known the people of Israel so far forgot their good +teachings," said Rabofsky, "as to insult a peaceful passer-by, like the +gentile ruffians." + +"Go forth without excuses," said Shagarach sternly. + +"I will gladly remind them," said the cowed usurer, leaving the room. + +"Moses Cohen, you will retract and apologize in your next issue, or I +shall prosecute the Messenger for slander." + +"I have only told the truth," answered the young editor, doggedly. "You +are no longer a Jew." + +"I am always a Jew," said Shagarach. "Though I worship not with the +ancient rites and forms, adapted for simple minds, my God is the God of +my fathers and my heart is with my people. I value them, I love them, +better than some who prey on their prejudices and wring ducats by +pretended piety." + +"But----" urged Cohen, stiff-necked and arrogant. + +"I have spoken," said Shagarach. "You have slandered me. Retract." + +When he left Silberstein's house the Ghetto was deserted. The people had +fled within, and he saw Rabofsky far up the street, warning them with +uplifted hands. Only two or three children, with eyes like jewels, +played on the curbstone, innocent of the guile that comes with years. +Shagarach lifted one of these in his arms and kissed her. "Good-by," +lisped the baby, as he continued his walk. + +Bitter tears came into the strong man's eyes. + +That night he wrote late in his chamber; and though he was usually the +earliest of risers, the next morning his mother knocked on his door +repeatedly in vain. + +"It is the trial day, my son," she said, loudly. Slowly he arose and +rubbed his eyes. His clothing was dusty with the bedding lint. And when +he came down to the breakfast table his look was mournful and +abstracted. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +OYEZ! OYEZ! + + +"This is the gravest charge known to the law," said the district +attorney, "and the man found guilty of it by a jury of his peers is +condemned, under the statutes of this commonwealth, to be hanged by the +neck until he is dead." + +Dead! The solemn word reverberated through every listener's heart. The +crowded court-room was hushed. The jurymen had just been contemplating +their own portraits in the last newspaper which they would see for many +days, and now bent forward in the first flush of eager attention. Court +officers were carrying whispered messages to and fro. On the bench sat +Chief Justice Playfair, silver-haired and handsome, between two of his +judicial brethren. The case was considered of such importance that +three judges had been assigned to decide upon the legal questions which +might arise. + +On the threshold of an ante-room Inspector McCausland was cordially +shaking hands with Shagarach. In the front row of the spectators sat +Mrs. Arnold, thin-lipped and cold, beside a sad-faced woman in black. +She had bowed distantly to the prisoner--no longer fettered, but +permitted to occupy a seat in the "cage" in full view--between Dr. +Silsby and Emily Barlow, who had bravely elected to join him. Evidently +he was not one of those who grow plump on jail regime and batten under +the shadow of the scaffold. The young man's dark cheek was lean, his +eyes unwontedly bright, but he never flinched from the district +attorney's gaze. + +"You have learned from the reading of the indictment," thundered the +district attorney, stroking his patriarchal beard with one hand and +holding his notes in the other, "that the immediate act committed by the +accused was not murder but arson. It is true that he did not +deliberately procure the deaths of the seven persons who were deprived +of their most precious property, of life itself, in that calamity with +which our city rung on the evening of June 28. He did not draw their +blood personally with the usual weapons of homicide--pistol, dagger, +bludgeon or ax. But the evidence will show you that a new weapon, more +dangerous, because more deadly, than any of these, was used on this +occasion, and that he set on foot forces which did procure the deaths of +the victims, and which, but for the vigilance of man and the mercy of +Providence, might have doubled or trebled their number--yes, laid the +greater part of our fair city in ruins. + +"For myself, I might be willing to suppose that the accused did not +foresee the consequences which would follow his rash deed; that he +trusted to a confined and local destruction, of property merely, +following his application of the match to his deceased uncle's study. +But the law, justly and wisely, we must admit, presumes foresight, +imputes deliberation and malice, when loss of life follows the +commission of a felony, and taxes the felon not alone with the initial +damage but with all damages that accrue. I leave it to your own good +sense, gentlemen, whether the fire-fiend who applies the torch in the +heart of a crowded city is not potentially as guilty as the Malay +running amuck with brandished dagger or the anarchist hurling his bomb. +There can be only one answer to the question. Our own lives, the lives +of our wives, sisters, children, are imperiled by any other doctrine +than that which the law lays down. + +"Therefore, reluctantly, sorrowfully, with misgivings and fear, we have +impeached Robert Floyd of the murder of Ellen Greeley, who was burned to +death in her chamber; of Rosanna Moxom, Katie Galuby, Mary Lacy and +Florence F. Lacy, who died of injuries received while attempting to +escape from the Harmon building; of Alexander Whitlove, who was caught +between the floors of that building, in a heroic attempt to conduct his +elevator to the imprisoned occupants of the upper story; and of Peter +Schubert, the fireman who lost his life nobly in the performance of his +duty." + +This catalogue of the victims moved the spectators, and Emily noticed +the woman in black crying softly in her handkerchief. + +"I will not attempt to instruct your consciences or call to your minds +the responsibility which rests upon your shoulders as well as upon mine. +For I am convinced that every man before me approaches this case with +the same unwillingness which I myself have felt, but also with the same +determination to uphold the law, to do justice and nothing more or less +than justice, to all parties, that I myself have formed." + +The district attorney spoke this disclaimer of officiousness or +persecution with genuine feeling, but it was scarcely necessary for any +who knew him. The name of Noah Bigelow, like that of Shagarach, was +guaranty in itself that the cause would be tried with courtesy and +fairness. Yet something in his bearing might have told the psychologist +that the nature of the man, unsuspicious, candid and slow to entertain a +conviction of guilt, would be equally slow to part with such a +conviction when it had once obtained a lodging. + +The outline of the evidence to be presented consumed more than an hour +in its delivery; and the reading, in a high drawl, of the minutes of the +previous trial, occupied the remaining time until the noon recess +tediously. If the jury had not been provided with a typewritten copy it +would have profited little by this latter proceeding. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +THE BATTERIES OPEN FIRE. + + +Assistant District Attorney Badger conducted the examination of the +first witness for the government, who gave his name as the Rev. St. +George Thornton and wore the manner of an Oxford graduate. + +"You knew the uncle of the accused, Prof. Arnold?" + +"Excellently. He had been for many years an attendant at my church." + +"The Church of the Messiah, of the Episcopal denomination?" + +"The Episcopal church, sir; we do not consider it a denomination." + +"You officiated at Prof. Arnold's funeral service, I believe?" said +Badger, disregarding this nice distinction. + +"I did." + +"This took place on June 26, I believe?" + +"On Thursday, June 26; yes, sir." + +"And saw the accused, Robert Floyd?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Kindly describe his actions and appearance on that occasion, Dr. +Thornton." + +"In common with others who knew him, I was greatly struck by the absence +of any signs of grief." + +"Such as what?" + +"Such as tears and--and general signs of dejection." + +"As though he were meditating upon something else than the death of his +uncle?" + +"As though his thoughts were far away." + +"That is all," said Badger, and Shagarach, who had apparently expected +something more substantial than this, arose. + +"You have officiated at hundreds of funerals, I presume, Dr. Thornton?" + +"At many hundreds, sir," answered the clergyman, gravely. + +"And the ordinary marks of grief, as you say, are tears?" + +"It is a rare burial in which tears are not shed." + +"So rare that the exceptions impress themselves upon you, like the +burial of Prof. Arnold?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Would you say that in this class of rare exceptions the absence of +tears was always due to callousness in the mourners?" + +"Always? No, sir; not always." + +"Generally?" + +"I should not attempt to say, sir." + +"You would scarcely judge the sincerity of a mourner's sorrow by the +copiousness of flow from his lachrymal glands?" + +"Hardly." + +"One moment," said Badger, detaining Dr. Thornton for the redirect. "Did +you mean to emphasize the tearlessness of the accused as the principal +feature of his bearing which attracted your attention?" + +"No, sir; it was the coldness, I may say the general indifference +expressed in his countenance, which struck me." + +"Will you allow me to see your eyeglasses, Dr. Thornton?" asked +Shagarach. "The lenses are concave. You are near-sighted?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Badly so, I should say?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"That will do." + +"John Harkins," answered the next witness to Badger's preliminary +question. + +"Were you ever employed by Prof. Arnold?" + +"I was." + +"In what capacity?" + +"As coachman." + +"When?" + +"About a year ago, just before Mungovan." + +"How long did you remain in his household?" + +"About two weeks." + +"Did you notice anything unusual in the relations between the accused +and his uncle?" + +"Well, I heard them quarr'ling two or three times." + +"What do you mean by quarreling?" + +"Oh, they were talking angrily to each other." + +"Did you listen so as to hear the import of any of these conversations?" + +"Well, I didn't listen, but I heard what they were saying." + +"How often did you hear what they said?" + +"I heard the old gentleman say once that he was a young rogue to be +herding with the like of them cattle." + +"Who?" + +"The young fellow--his nephew." + +"Called his nephew a rogue to be herding with such cattle?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Those were his own words?" + +"As near as I can remember." + +"What kind of a master was Prof. Arnold?" asked Shagarach. + +"He was a pretty good man. I haven't anything against him." + +"Particular, wasn't he?" + +"Yes, he was particular." + +"Why were you discharged at the end of a fortnight?" + +"He didn't give any reason; just said I didn't suit, that was all." + +"But he paid you in full?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"And you found him not unreasonably exacting?" + +"Well, he used to grumble a good deal." + +"At you?" + +"At me, yes, and the others, too." + +"You never heard the others complaining, however?" + +"No, sir." + +"What did they say when you told them of his grumbling at you?" + +"Oh, they said when you get used to him you won't mind." + +"When the two 'quarreled,' as you call it, how many of the voices were +raised in what you took to be anger?" + +"How many?" + +"One or both?" + +"Why, it was the professor that was angry." + +"Didn't he always talk loudly?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When he 'grumbled' at you?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When he 'grumbled' at the other servants?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"But they didn't mind it?" + +"No; they said I wouldn't mind it after awhile." + +"Did Floyd seem to mind it, when you saw him after these 'quarrels,' as +you call them?" + +"I didn't notice." + +"Will you, upon reflection, swear that these quarrels were anything more +than frank, warm discussions, misunderstood by you at the time, but such +as any two men of independent mold and opposite views might indulge in?" + +The witness was greatly puzzled. + +"Well, I can't say. It was pretty loud talking, that was all." + +The redirect by Badger brought out nothing new for the government's +case. It was felt that their attempt to show strained relations between +uncle and nephew was no great success. But the next witness was looked +to curiously. He gave his name and position as James L. Carberry, +secretary of Bricklayers' council No. 31, C. L. U. He was a powerful +man, with a conspicuously well-filled sleeve, suggesting that mighty +flexed arm, grasping a mallet, which is the workingman's favorite +symbol. But the low brow hinted at a degree of honest dullness. While +Carberry was taking the stand Badger asked leave to submit a newspaper +clipping to the jury. + +"This bears upon the point we shall now endeavor to prove, your +honors--namely, the anti-social opinions of the accused." + +Against Shagarach's protest and exception, Chief Justice Playfair +allowed the jury to read an article from the Beacon, signed "Robert +Floyd," in which the following sentence was marked as especially +obnoxious: + + "When the highest court in the land decides that offensive + combination of capitalists in trusts is right, but defensive + combination of workingmen in labor unions is wrong, then the time + is ripe for revolution." + +Shagarach's defense of his client's right to freedom of speech and +thought was eloquent. But courts are and no doubt should be the +sanctuaries of orthodoxy, and any other conclusion than that which Chief +Justice Playfair and his two colleagues reached, in a matter so personal +to themselves, could hardly be expected. + +"You know the accused?" asked the district attorney of Carberry. + +"I have met him," answered the witness. + +"State to the jury the occasion upon which you met him." + +"It was at a meeting of the union one Sunday afternoon, about six months +ago." + +"Did you have any conversation with him at that time?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"On what topic?" + +"On strikes and labor questions and anarchy and----" + +"Will you state what opinions, if any, the defendant expressed in regard +to anarchy?" + +"He told me he sympathized with the anarchists." + +"Anything further?" + +"Yes, sir; he said in his opinion assassination was justifiable." + +"Where did this conversation take place?" + +"In a little smoking-room off the hall." + +"Were you alone?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you remember the particular occasion which started your discussion +of anarchism with the accused?" asked Shagarach, after a consultation +with Floyd. + +"No, sir." + +"Wasn't it the arrest of Dr. Hyndman in London?" + +"Oh, yes, I believe it was." + +"It was for Dr. Hyndman that Floyd expressed sympathy, was it not?" + +"Yes, sir, it was Hyndman." + +"Do you happen to know whether Dr. Hyndman is a philosophical anarchist +or not?" + +"Sir?" + +"Do you know what school of anarchism Dr. Hyndman represents?" + +"No, sir." + +"Do you know whether he advocates bomb-throwing?" + +"I suppose so." + +"You take it for granted, then, that all anarchists are bomb-throwers?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Had Dr. Hyndman thrown a bomb?" + +"I don't remember." + +"Don't you remember that he merely made an anarchistic speech, in +denunciation of society?" + +"No, sir." + +"You didn't inquire into the matter much?" + +"No, sir." + +"But Floyd, you say, expressed sympathy with the anarchists?" + +"Yes, sir." This was said emphatically. + +"Didn't he say that he sympathized with Dr. Hyndman?" + +"That's what I told you." + +"No, sir, it is not what you told me. Didn't Floyd say he sympathized +with Dr. Hyndman as opposed to the bomb-throwing anarchists?" + +"I don't remember that he did." + +"Didn't he say that he sympathized with Dr. Hyndman's objects, but not +his methods?" + +"I don't remember anything about that." + +"Then you didn't carry away a very clear idea of the conversation, did +you?" + +"I think I did," the witness replied with positiveness. Then the +cross-examiner dismissed him, satisfied to have made it apparent that +fine distinctions would pass through Mr. Carberry's mind like beach sand +through a sieve. The redirect examination went over the same ground, and +Badger placed a Mr. Lovejoy on the stand. + +"You are treasurer of the Beacon company, are you not?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"All checks in payment for services rendered pass through you?" + +"Through my subordinates or myself." + +"Have you calculated, as requested, the total sums paid to Robert Floyd +for special articles during the time of his employment?" + +"I have." + +"Will you state to the jury the earning capacity of this young man at +the time of his uncle's death?" + +"The question is prejudicially framed, Brother Badger," said Shagarach. +"Please do not incorporate your own inferences when examining a +witness." + +"How much had Floyd earned while with you?" asked Badger. + +"From January to June, inclusive, six monthly checks were made out +payable to Robert Floyd, for services, and three smaller checks for +expenses incurred. The amount of the former checks was $309." + +"During six months?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Mr. Hero Leander," said the next witness. + +"City editor of the Beacon, I believe?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you state any conversation you had with Inspector McCausland on +Monday morning, June 30?" + +"The conversation on my side was conducted in the deaf-and-dumb +alphabet. Mr. McCausland entered our office and inquired which was +Floyd's desk." + +"And what did you do?" + +"I pointed." + +"To Floyd's desk?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Mr. McCausland." + +A buzz of expectancy went around when the inspector walked in from the +ante-room and mounted the stand. He wore a rose in his buttonhole, but +the smile had left his countenance. With his testimony, it was felt, the +real case for the prosecution began. + +"You arrested the accused, I believe, Mr. McCausland?" asked the +district attorney, amid the breathless attention of the court. + +"I had that disagreeable task to perform." + +"Where was the arrest made?" + +"On the steps of the Putnam hotel." + +"What was your first act upon reaching the station?" + +"I stripped the accused and confiscated the clothes he wore." + +"These were the clothes he had worn at the time of the fire, also?" + +"He stated so." + +"You have preserved those garments?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You also confiscated the desk which Floyd had occupied at the Beacon +office?" + +"The drawers of it, yes, sir." + +"Have you preserved the contents of that desk?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you inform the jury what you found in the drawers of Robert +Floyd's desk?" + +"Three copies of the anarchist organ, Freiheit. There they are." + +"Do these papers preach philosophical anarchy, Mr. McCausland?" + +"I should say not. They are in German, but the leading editorial of this +one--which was kindly translated for me by a friend--recommends the +'stamping out by fire and sword of John Burns and all such +peace-mongering worms.'" + +"A forcible expression, surely. It is the Most organ, in short?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you state the further results of your search in the desk?" + +"I found this paper of powder, a part of a fuse, a written formula for +manufacturing a bomb, a blotter with part of a note on it, legible by +the help of a mirror----" + +"That will do for the present, Mr. McCausland. And will you state what +you may have found in the pockets of Floyd's coat?" + +"A quantity of powder. There were grains of it also on the knees of his +trousers." + +"Similar to that found in his desk?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"What else?" + +"A burnt match," said the inspector, just as the clock struck five and +the constable's gavel sounded a prelude to adjournment. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +THE BOMBARDMENT CONTINUES. + + +Nearly the same gathering was admitted to the courtroom on the second +day as on the first. But, wedged in between Mrs. Arnold and the unknown +woman in black, Emily had pointed out to her the famous novelist Ecks, +who sat with his head inclined toward the still more famous playwright +Wye. Wye was mooting volubly the chain of testimony which had been spun +around the accused on the foregoing day, which seemed to possess for him +all the circumscribed but inexhaustible interest of the chessboard or a +dramatic intrigue. But Ecks was sketching in pencil the principal +characters of the trial. + +"We shall summon Mr. McCausland again," said the district attorney. "At +present we surrender him to the counsel for the accused." + +A keen glance shot from lawyer to witness, comparing the two great +opponents. Shagarach's face was a mask, stern and impenetrable, but +McCausland visibly braced himself for the encounter. Equal they might be +in a sense, as Mount Everest is the peer of the Amazon, but as different +in their spheres as the river and the mountain. In the detective's +subtle eye the keen observer might have discovered a finesse and a +suppleness not altogether remote from the corresponding traits in the +cracksman whom he had impersonated. But Shagarach could no more have +counterfeited Bill Dobbs than McCausland could have acted with success +the role of Count L'Alienado. + +"Would you hang a kitten on the evidence of a burned match, inspector?" +asked the lawyer. + +"If he were old enough to scratch it," answered the detective. + +"Will you turn out the contents of your upper right vest pocket?" + +McCausland's face became rosy with embarrassment, but he obeyed the +request. A ripple of laughter went around when among the broken-up +fractions of a card of lucifers there appeared one that was blackened at +the end. The inspector allowed the merriment to die, then coolly +remarked: + +"It is the match I found on Floyd." + +And it was felt that he had held his own. + +"Phineas Fowler," called the district attorney. The old chemist tottered +to the stand and held a parchment hand high in air while the clerk +administered his oath. + +"What is your business, Mr. Fowler?" + +The pantaloon trembled visibly and twisted the two horns of his forked +board one after the other with nervous fingers, blinking about all the +while like an old Rosicrucian projected into the daylight world. + +"A chemist," he piped, in a treble so high that the thoughtless smiled, +but so feeble the chief justice bent forward to hear and the +stenographer requested him to raise his voice. Ecks began sketching away +rapidly at the advent of this character. The very odor of acids seemed +to exhale from his shivering person. + +"What lines of trade do you supply?" + +"Photographers, dyers, armorers----" + +"The last class with explosives and fulminating compounds, I presume?" + +"Also with oils and varnishes," answered the pantaloon, his voice +breaking in the desperate effort he made to be audible. + +"Would you call him senile or venerable?" whispered Ecks. + +"He must have sold Floyd the powder," answered Wye, intent on the +imbroglio. + +"Have you ever met the accused?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When and where?" + +"In my office twice." + +"What was the date of the first visit of the accused to your office?" + +"June 23." + +"And of the second?" + +"June 27." + +"On what business did the accused call to see you, Mr. Fowler?" + +"He was inquiring about bombs," answered the witness, a strong +back-country twang coming out as he proceeded and adding to his other +peculiarities. + +"What did he especially desire to know about bombs?" + +"How they were made." + +"Were you able to inform him? Have you made a study of this subject?" + +"Oh, yes. There's nothing mysterious about it." + +"You entered into a minute discussion, then, with Floyd on the subject +of bomb-making?" + +"Well, no; I answered his questions. Didn't volunteer nothing." Mr. +Fowler grew reckless of the niceties of speech as he accelerated his +replies. "Don't believe it's a proper matter to be preached from the +housetops." + +"Your room is tolerably near the top of the house, however?" + +"Top story, sir." + +"Well, proper or improper, what was the upshot of your conversation?" + +"He was coming again and I was to sell him some powder." + +"Anything else?" + +"Yes, three feet of fuse." + +"Will you describe this fuse?" + +"Why it's just common fuse, made out of linen cloth, sprinkled with a +slow-burning mixture--nitre, sulphur and a little powder--sheathed in +rubber and fitted into a metal plug." + +"You sold Floyd three feet of this fuse?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And how much of the powder?" + +"Two pounds." + +"Common gunpowder?" + +"Yes, sir; American army powder." + +"You were to sell him these commodities, you say. Did he actually return +and purchase them?" + +"Yes, sir; I had them all done up when he called again." + +"Called on June 27, as he had promised to?" + +"Called on June 27, sir." + +"Which was the day before the fire and the day after his uncle's +funeral, according to Dr. Thornton's testimony as to the date." + +"I dare say you are right, sir," squeaked the pantaloon, who evidently +stood in trepidation of his burly examiner. + +"For what purpose did you understand that the accused wanted this powder +and this fuse?" + +"Told me he wanted to make some sort of a bomb." + +"Did he ask you for particular directions?" + +"Well, yes." + +"Did you furnish him the shell or envelope of this projected bomb?" + +"Oh, no; he said he had a teakittle to hum," said the pantaloon, +whereupon the repressed volcano of merriment exploded once more, to the +indignation of John Davidson, who occupied a front seat, listening to +the testimony of his townsman. The chief justice looked stern and the +district attorney's deep bass rumbled on without a pause. + +"A teakettle at home. And how was that to be converted into the covering +of a bomb?" + +"Why, I told him to put the fuse inside and draw it through the nozzle, +so the plug would stop up the spout, then shovel in the powder, tamp her +up with nails and pellets, fasten down the lid and you have a bomb ready +made. The kettle, I understood, was a frail one, hardly stronger than a +canister." + +"Not a concussion bomb, Mr. Fowler, I suppose?" + +"No, sir. Those are filled with dynamite or giant powder. I don't deal +in the high explosives." + +"This bomb would have to be fired through the fuse?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"But it would explode with considerable force." + +"Well, I guess it would rip things jest a trifle." Here the pantaloon +forced the ghost of a smile himself. + +"Kindly bring in the safe." + +It came in on the shoulders of two stout porters, all breached and +battered and bubbled in places, as if the iron had melted like tar. + +"The explosion of this shell, the construction of which you have just +described, would blast away a very considerable obstacle, you say?" + +"Lord, yes! Slit a cannon." + +"Would it be sufficient--I ask your opinion as one having experience in +this line--would it be sufficient to cause the mutilation visible in +that safe?" + +"All that and a sight more." + +"And the accused gave you to understand that he had undertaken the +construction of just such a bomb?" + +"I took him so." + +"Very well. So much for that. Did you examine the piece of fuse which +Mr. McCausland found in the desk occupied by Floyd at the Beacon +office?" + +"I did." + +"What kind of fuse was it?" + +"Same as I sold him." + +At this point a small piece of fuse, some six inches in length, was +submitted to the jury for inspection and passed along from hand to hand. + +"And the powder found in it?" + +"Same powder." + +"And the powder in Floyd's coat pockets?" + +"Same powder." + +"And the grains on the knees of his trousers, where they may have +spilled?" + +"Same powder." + +"That's the black side of the shield," whispered Ecks, as the district +attorney sat down. + +"Now for the white," answered Wye. + +"It is not part of your regular business, I presume," said Shagarach, +"to furnish anarchists with bombs?" + +"Oh, no, sir," answered the witness, making corkscrew curls of his beard +points. + +"Or incendiaries with igniting material?" + +"No, sir; never did it before in my life, sir." + +"Why did Floyd say he wanted this powder and fuse and information as to +the construction of bombs?" + +"Said he was studying up anarchism." + +"For what purpose?" + +"Wanted to write an article on it, he said." + +"And you seem to have believed him?" + +"At the time, or I wouldn't have sold him the goods." + +"What made you believe him?" + +The witness paused, puzzled and shifted from foot to foot. + +"Well, I can't say, sir, as to his credentials." + +"Couldn't he have procured these materials in some less public way if +secrecy had been an object with him?" + +"Plenty of other ways of getting such things, sir." + +"Yet he walked in openly to your office?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Told you his name?" + +"No, sir." + +"Gave you his card?" + +"Yes, sir; business card; said he was a reporter." + +"Where is the card?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"Did you notice the name?" + +"No, sir; took no particular notice. Thought it was all right at the +time." + +"But the young man stated that he was studying up anarchism?" + +"And wanted to see for himself just how easy it was to make a bomb." + +"That will do." + +"Rather an eccentric whim," said Wye. "Putting up a clever defense, +though." + +"Did you notice how the defendant's jaws are set?" answered Ecks. + +"Mr. Hero Leander," called Badger, and the city editor again took the +stand. + +"Did the Beacon ever give Floyd an assignment to write up anarchy?" + +The witness shook his head. + +"Mr. McCausland once more," said Badger, while the city editor, whose +occupation had taught him to reduce laconicism to a science, rushed off +to write up his own somewhat abbreviated testimony for the evening +edition of his paper. + +"Did you find any manuscript or notes of an article on anarchism in the +desk occupied by the accused?" + +"None, sir." + +"Or in the garments he wore at the time of the fire?" + +"None." + +"You had no opportunity," asked Shagarach, "after the fire to search +Floyd's room at his uncle's house?" + +"I wish I had," replied the inspector. + +"Then you could not testify that such notes or such a manuscript were +not in existence before the fire?" + +"I could offer an opinion." + +"Mr. Chandler." + +In the interim, during which our old acquaintance, the patrolman, was +hunted up, the jury curiously examined the powder, which McCausland +handed them. + +"You recognize this article, Mr. Chandler?" asked Badger, pointing to +the safe. + +"I do." + +"You removed it or had it removed from the ruins of the Arnold house +after the fire?" + +"Acting under Mr. McCausland's instructions, I did so." + +"It presented the same appearance as now?" + +"As far as I know." + +"The safe will be removed to the jury-room later for inspection," said +Badger. + +"What was the date of Prof. Arnold's death, Mr. Chandler?" asked +Shagarach. + +"He died on a Tuesday. Let me see. The fire was on the 28th; then it +must have been the 24th." + +"How is that competent, your honor?" objected Badger. + +"Perhaps Mr. Shagarach can explain its relevancy," said Chief Justice +Playfair. + +"Easily, your honor. Fowler, the chemist, has testified that Floyd's +first visit was on the 23d, which was Monday. His uncle died on Tuesday, +suddenly and unexpectedly. The prosecution asks us to believe that the +accused either foresaw in some occult manner his uncle's death or +contemplated blowing up the house while his uncle was still alive." + +"Admit the testimony," said the judge. + +"District Chief Wotherspoon," called the district attorney, relieving +his assistant. The witness was rugged and weather-beaten and his uniform +was not brushed for inspection. He had just answered an alarm. + +"You had charge of the fire forces in the early part of the Arnold fire, +did you not?" + +"Yes, sir; until Chief McKay arrived I was senior officer." + +"Do you recall the explosions which took place?" + +"Perfectly." + +"How many in number were the explosions?" + +"Two." + +"Two distinct explosions?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you state to the best of your knowledge the portion of the burning +buildings from which the explosions came?" + +"The first one was a single discharge. It came from the second story of +the Arnold house." + +"Where the study was located?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You feel positive?" + +"I do. I was climbing a ladder at the time and was thrown off my hold by +the shock." + +"And the second of the explosions?" + +"The second came after an interval and was different in character--more +like the setting-off of a bunch of firecrackers, but greatly exaggerated +in the volume of sound. There can be no doubt this was the fireworks +shop in the adjoining building." + +"But the first one positively came from the study?" + +"Positively." + +"A very loud report?" + +"Very loud." + +"Such as might have been caused by the explosion of the bomb Mr. Fowler +described?" + +"I should say so." + +"At what time," asked Shagarach, "did the explosion take place? How long +after you arrived?" + +"I couldn't say exactly; a few minutes." + +"One?" + +"More than one." + +"Two?" + +"Yes." + +"Three?" + +"Possibly." + +"And when did you arrive?" + +"At 3:32." + +"How long had the fire been going when you arrived?" + +"As nearly as I could estimate from the headway, about five minutes. +Opinions varied a good deal on that point." + +"Let us say five and add the three which elapsed before you heard the +explosion. Then if there were a bomb in the study or library and its +fuse were lighted at the start of the fire that fuse must have burned +for eight minutes before it reached the powder." + +"He's a genius," exclaimed Wye, but Ecks was sketching Shagarach's +forehead and did not answer. + +"I suppose so," said the fireman. + +"A somewhat incombustible fuse. But if the fuse were not lighted at the +start then presumably the fire started at the opposite end of the room +and worked its way slowly toward the fuse?" + +"Presumably." + +"Even so, it seems likely that the fuse must have been boxed up tightly +or it would have caught earlier." + +"It certainly does to me, sir, though I haven't given the subject any +thought." + +"It is not a difficult one," said Shagarach. "Wouldn't you say, then, +that this fire must have been started by some one who was ignorant that +there was a bomb in the room in close proximity to the safe? Otherwise +he would have lighted the fuse." + +"Perhaps." + +"And consequently by some one else than Floyd?" + +"I object," said the district attorney. He ought to have objected long +before, since Shagarach's previous question was wholly out of order, but +his attention had been distracted by McCausland. + +"If it had been the incendiary's desire to secure a gradual spread of +the flames, so as to permit himself ample time to escape, while at the +same time insuring the destruction of the safe, would it not have been +prudent for him to apply the match at the other end of the room, as he +appears to have done?" asked the district attorney. But Shagarach +objected to this in his turn and the two questions were left unanswered, +locking horns like tangled stags in the minds of the wondering jurors. + +"May I add one further question to my cross-examination of Mr. Fowler?" +asked Shagarach, when the fireman was dismissed. + +"How long, Mr. Fowler, would it take for that bomb to explode after the +tip of the fuse had ignited?" + +"About a minute," answered the chemist. + +"For the present," said the district attorney, "we are obliged to rest +this portion of the case. The fatality which has pursued all the +occupants of the Arnold house, even to the discharged coachman, Dennis +Mungovan, has deprived us by Miss Lund's death of a witness who would +have directly and immediately connected the bomb which Floyd constructed +with the mutilated safe. This afternoon we shall enter upon a different +phase of the subject--namely, an earlier attempt on the part of the +accused to obtain possession of the will." + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +GLORY ALLELUIA. + + +"Saul Aronson," called the district attorney. + +Shagarach's assistant had been amazed to find a subpoena thrust into his +hands just as he returned to his desk after the noon recess. Of what +service could he be to the prosecution? As little as possible, he +inwardly determined, while he made his way to the stand. + +"Do you know a young lady named Miss Serena Lamb?" asked Badger, in his +iciest voice. The cruelty of it was exquisite. If he had discharged a +revolver at Aronson point blank the witness could not have looked more +terror-stricken. To have the secrets of the affections thus held up to +public scorn! To be compelled to wear on his sleeve the heart whose +bleeding in his bosom he had with difficulty stanched! His face grew +pale--or, rather, a mottled white. But Shagarach rose on purpose and his +master's presence acted like a cordial on the fainting witness. + +"Yes, sir," he stammered out, marveling what was to come; how long the +torture would be prolonged. + +"That is all for the present," said Badger. + +"Prof. Borrowscales," called the district attorney, and a shadow of +disappointment fell on the court-room. There is no testimony less +amusing than that of the writing expert and none more inconclusive. At +least eleven jurors out of twelve disregard it and form their own +opinions by the rule of thumb. + +"You are a professor of penmanship?" asked the district attorney. + +"An expert in handwriting, yes, sir." + +"Of many years' experience?" + +"Twenty-nine." + +"Have you examined the papers submitted to you by Inspector McCausland?" + +"I have microscopically." + +"Describe them, please, for the benefit of the jury." + +"This one is a page of manuscript purporting to be the work of Robert +Floyd and bearing his signature. The other contains a chemical formula." + +"The bomb formula, taken from the desk of the accused," explained the +district attorney. "Anything else?" + +"A number, apparently jotted down on the same sheet." + +"Please read out that number." + +"No. 1863." + +"What do you say as to the identity of the handwritings, professor?" + +"I give it as my conviction that they are the same. The capital Q----" + +"Never mind the capital Q," interrupted Shagarach. "We admit that the +formula was written by the accused." + +"Retain the autograph for one moment," said the district attorney. +"There was another article submitted to you for comparison. What was +that?" + +"A blotting-pad," said the professor, holding it up in his fingers and +showing a clean side, bearing the reversed impressions of two or three +lines of writing. + +"Will you kindly hold that up to the mirror you have brought and read +what may be read of the writing taken up by the pad?" + +"Looks to me as if it came from the back of a postal card. Just fits +that size and says: + + "'Dear Aronson: The lock that I told you about still sticks. Please + come and open it. I will not trust it to an ordinary locksmith. + + "ROBERT FLOYD.'" + +"As to the signature and writing? Are they genuine?" + +"Beyond peradventure and on the strength of my twenty-nine years of +experience." + +"During your twenty-nine years of experience," asked Shagarach, "have +you ever failed to arrive at the conclusion your employers expected?" + +"I object," said the district attorney, and Shagarach withdrew his +question. It was one of those ramrod questions, the office of which is +simply to drive the charge home and then be withdrawn. + +"Will you kindly write your own name on that?" + +He handed up a common paper block and a pen. The expert flushed a little +and put the pen in his mouth. This blackened his lips and raised a +titter. His tongue rolled in his cheek like a schoolboy's while he +wrote. The effort was unconsciously prolonged. Shagarach took the +autograph and passed it to the jury. A broad smile spread from face to +face like a row of lamps lighted successively by an electric current. +Then the half-legible scrawl was passed to the district attorney and +Shagarach sat down. + +"I do not understand," said the district attorney, "that you profess to +be an ornamental writer?" + +"It is not necessary, Brother Bigelow," interrupted Shagarach again. "We +acknowledge the note on the postal card." + +"He has a spark of humor, after all," said Ecks, who was still in his +seat. + +"What do you suppose Aronson has to do with it?" asked Wye, while the +jury studied the blotter, one after another, mirror in hand. + +"Pineapple Jupiter!" called Badger. The old negro hobbled to the stand +and immediately opened his mouth in a good-natured smile, which set the +spectators' lips working responsively. + +"This is a murder case, involving life and death," said Chief Justice +Playfair, with dignity, and the court officers rapped their staffs and +bustled about, commanding silence. + +"You know Mr. Aronson, the last witness but one?" asked Badger. + +"See him most every day, sah." + +"Do you also know a young lady named Miss Serena Lamb?" + +"See her most every day, sah." + +"Did you ever introduce Mr. Aronson to Miss Lamb?" + +"Yes, sah." + +"When and where?" + +"Well, you see, I fotched him up to her and says I, 'Here's a convert, +sister,' says I. 'Hallelujah!' says she, and that's how I done it, sah." + +"Where was this?" + +"Down on the square, sah--Salem street." + +"And when?" + +"When?" + +"Yes, when did you introduce Mr. Aronson and Miss Lamb?" + +The negro scratched his woolly poll. + +"Clean forgot de time, sah." + +"Was it a year ago?" + +"'Bout a year, sah." + +"Couldn't you fix the time exactly? It is important." + +"Well, you see, sah, it was about de second-last time I got a hair-cut." + +This answer provoked a roar, but the district attorney took the witness +in hand. + +"Can you count?" + +"Oh, yes, sah; I can count, sah." + +"Up to how far?" + +"Up to ten mostly, sah." + +"You can't read?" + +"Born before Massah Linkun, sah. Chillun can read. Old folks picking +cotton; no time for school, sah." + +"And you reckon time by the occasions when your hair needs cutting?" + +"Yes, sah; wife and I reckons pretty close on that, sah." + +"An excellent way for want of a better hour-glass," said the district +attorney. "About how often do you get your hair cut from winter to +winter?" + +"Oh, about six times, sah. My ole wool grows putty stiddy-reg'lar, sah." + +"Six times? You have had your hair cut lately?" + +"This morning, sah. Wife said I wasn't looking 'spectable enough to +come into court before genteel gemlen." + +"And you introduced Miss Lamb and Mr. Aronson about the second hair-cut +before that?" + +"Yes, sah, third-last time. 'Scuse me." + +"It must have been four months ago, then. That will do. Mr. Hardwood." + +A business-looking old gentleman took the stand. + +"You are a member of the firm of Hardwood & Lockwell?" asked Badger. + +"Senior member." + +"What is your business?" + +"Safemakers." + +"How long have you been established?" + +"Thirty-seven years." + +"Do you recollect filling an order for a safe from Prof. Arnold?" + +"I do, sir. It is the first order on our books." + +"Are those books in existence to-day?" + +"They are, sir," said the old business man, with pride. + +"Do you happen to know whether that safe ordered by Prof. Arnold was +still used by him at the time of the fire which destroyed his home?" + +"I have reason to believe so. I remember seeing it and reminding him of +the circumstance in his house within a year." + +"You regarded it as in a way the foundation stone of your business +prosperity?" + +"It was our first sale." + +"What, if you recollect, was the number of the safe--an old-fashioned +article, I presume?" + +"Somewhat antiquated in style, sir. I have consulted our books, at the +request of the officer--Mr. McCausland, I think. The number of the safe +sold to Benjamin Arnold was 1863." + +"Were you here," asked Shagarach, "when Prof. Borrowscales read out the +number which was jotted down upon a sheet of paper in Floyd's desk?" + +"I was. I was struck at the identity." + +"You have no means of knowing, however, whether or not that number was a +memorandum of the date in the life of Bakunin, the anarchistic writer?" + +"I have not." + +"Mr. McCausland, again," said the district attorney. + +For the third time the inspector came to the box from the ante-room +through the door at which he watched and listened. + +"You occupied a cell adjoining that of the prisoner in the state prison +at one time?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you state any conversation relevant to this trial which you may +have overheard?" + +"It was a soliloquy rather than a conversation." + +"Describe this soliloquy, then." + +"Floyd used to talk at night a good deal. He wasn't sleeping well." The +court was hushed at this strange introduction. "There was a +communication between our cells and by listening carefully one night I +managed to make out what he was saying." + +"And what was he saying?" asked the district attorney, while Floyd +studied the witness' face with more curiosity than he had yet at any +time shown. + +"'Don't tell anybody, Aronson.'" + +To the surprise of everybody the accused burst out into a hearty laugh, +which rung through the court-room and evidently nettled the whole +prosecuting force. Then he bent over to Shagarach and whispered in his +ear. Shagarach jumped to his feet, promptly as usual, for the district +attorney had finished. His opportunity had come. + +"What crime had you committed, Mr. McCausland, that the state should +isolate you in one of its prison cells?" + +"I was a voluntary prisoner," answered the detective. He had put his +neck in the noose and must bear the strangling as cheerfully as +possible. + +"For what purpose?" + +"A professional one." + +"You were there to win the confidence of the accused and extort a +confession of guilt from him if possible?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you succeed?" + +"Owing to the cleverness of the prisoner and his having been forewarned, +I failed." + +"Not owing to the fact that he is innocent, you think?" + +"I think not." + +Shagarach seemed satisfied not to press this further and asked for the +blotter, which was in the foreman's hand. + +"You were requested to state any conversation relevant to this cause +which you had with the accused while in prison. You answered with a few +meaningless words pronounced in sleep. I confess the relevance of all +this later testimony escapes me," said Shagarach. + +"The next witness, Miss Lamb," answered the district attorney, "will +make the connection of all these threads of testimony plain." + +"Do you know Mr. Aronson, the piano dealer?" asked Shagarach of the +witness. + +"By sight." + +McCausland, though he kept his own identity as hidden as possible, knew +the whole city by sight. + +"Is it not possible to construe this note on the postal card as +referring to the refractory lock of Miss Barlow's piano, which the +accused had recently purchased for her as a birthday present?" + +"Out of the $309 he earned?" asked McCausland. + +"That and the lifelong income he has enjoyed from his mother's +property," said Shagarach. Whereupon McCausland, Bigelow and the whole +court-room stared, and even Chief Justice Playfair's trained eyebrow was +perceptibly lifted. + +"Miss Serena Lamb," called the district attorney. How Aronson blushed +and fidgeted when his idol, with eyes downcast in virgin shyness, +tripped in from the corridor at a constable's beck and mounted the +stand! + +"Glory alleluia!" she said, with her right hand raised, when the clerk +had repeated the formula of the oath. + +"You are a member of the salvation army, Miss Lamb?" asked the district +attorney. Her bonnet and garb sufficiently answered the question. + +"You are acquainted with a young man named Saul Aronson?" was the first +question put to Serena. + +"I was made known unto such an one," said the girl, in quasi-scriptural +parlance. + +"By whom?" + +"Pineapple Jupiter." + +"How did Aronson first present himself to your attention?" + +"As one who had seen the error of unbelief and wished to repent. +Alleluia!" + +"As a convert, then? Did you ever have any private conference with this +convert?" + +"I did." + +"Will you kindly tell the jury when and where?" + +"It was the month of May at my home in the city." + +"In the parlor of your house?" + +"Even so." + +"On what date, if you remember?" + +"Early in May, but the day escapes me." + +"State the substance of your conversation." + +"The youth had been a sinner, but his heart was touched and he +unburdened his misdeeds to me, of which this was the gravest: + +"While he was still unregenerate a certain youth of his own age"--she +looked full at Robert--"had tempted him with a bribe to enter a certain +house wrongfully and open a certain safe. For the youth had cunning in +that craft. The room he entered was filled with books and a canary bird +slept in his cage, for it was evening, and a desk stood before a window +in one corner." + +"I desire to call the attention of the jury to this description," said +the district attorney. "It corresponds strikingly with the description +of Prof. Arnold's study in the printed copy of Bertha Lund's testimony +at the hearing, which is in their possession. Proceed, Miss Lamb." + +"And the name of the tempter was Robert Floyd." The hush deepened +perceptibly as Serena paused. + +"Upon his knees with many tools," she resumed, "he toiled at the door, +but it was firm and resisted his skill. Nevertheless the youth stated +that he would have succeeded had not an interruption come and startled +the guilty pair." + +"Are there any further details you desire to add to this recital?" + +"Only that it was done on the Sabbath and surely unblessed labor." + +"You have not seen the convert since?" + +"Never, but I have heard that the courage of his faith deserted him." + +"Is the man here?" asked the district attorney, turning toward +Aronson--poor Aronson, who sat open-mouthed, goggle-eyed, with gaze +riveted on the pale sweet face in the bonnet. Now a thousand eyes were +turned upon him, but still he saw only the rosebud mouth and awaited +breathlessly its answer. + +"That is the man," answered the witness, pointing. The greater "Ecce +homo" of history scarcely drew forth such a murmur from the bystanders. +But the gavel of the crier was heard rapping for attention, for the +court had risen promptly at the strokes of the clock. + +"One moment, your honor," said Shagarach, rising, after a whispered +consultation with his assistant, now voluble and stuttering with +excitement. "I desire to ask that the court issue a warrant for the +arrest of the last witness, Miss Serena Lamb, on the charge of malicious +perjury." + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +THE ROSEBUD MOUTH. + + +"What in the world is he smiling for?" asked Emily. Inspector +McCausland's smile was a barometer of her own uneasiness, and she could +not help remarking his unusual geniality at the opening of the court on +Wednesday. + +The previous day's work had closed with a sturdy wrangle between +Shagarach and the district attorney. Whether it was that Shagarach's +charge of perjury was not sufficiently supported (it was merely +Aronson's word against Serena's) or that Bigelow's inelastic mind +characteristically clung in the face of cogent proof to the convictions +it had already formed, he had objected might and main to the proposed +issue of a warrant and even gone so far as to protest against his +learned brother's effort to intimidate a witness of the weaker sex. +McCausland had amicably agreed to secure the attendance of Miss Lamb for +cross-examination, and so the confusion subsided. Miss Lamb was there +and so was the inspector. But what made him smile? + +"Good morning, Miss Barlow," said a familiar voice, close to Emily's +ear. + +"Bertha Lund!" she exclaimed. There it was, the large, fair Swedish +face, with sparkling blue eyes that danced with the pleasure of the +surprise. After a moment of silent study Emily gave her a bear-like +squeeze and only released her that she might shake hands with Robert. + +"It's none of my doing, Mr. Robert," said Bertha. "If I could, I'd have +staid home in Upsala, but I gave my word to Mr. McCausland that I'd come +back, and here I am to keep it." + +"But we thought you were lost. We saw the body and buried it," cried +Emily. + +"Oh, that was another Bertha Lund. Mr. McCausland thought it was me, +too." + +"Another one from Upsala?" + +"Why, if you took all the Bertha Lunds and Nils Nilssons in Upsala you +could fill a big town with them," said the housemaid, laughing. + +"And how did you happen to go home to Sweden?" asked Robert. + +"Mrs. Arnold wanted another house-girl and I'd told her about my sister +Christina, who is old enough now to be handy. She was kind enough to +pay my passage over so I could bring her out with me, and let me stay +all summer, too. Did you ever see such goodness?" + +"She's a very uncommon mistress, certainly," said Emily. + +"It was the day after we were talking at Hillsborough that I started," +said Bertha. "Do you remember?" + +"Yes, indeed," answered Emily, brightening up, "and now let us finish +that talk. I have a hundred questions I want to ask you. Shall you +testify to-day?" + +"No; I've only just got here and the lawyer said he would leave me till +the last. The voyage is very tiresome, you know." + +"Then come with me," cried Emily, with animation, and drew Bertha after +her into the ante-room. Here Robert caught a glimpse of her from time to +time questioning, explaining, measuring with her hands, as if she were +satisfying herself on doubtful points of her theory. And when she +finally came out, in the middle of Miss Lamb's cross-examination, her +face wore a smile so auroral that even Chief Justice Playfair's eyes +left the witness and wandered over toward the true-hearted girl. + +"Mr. Aronson told you that he worked on his knees at this mysterious +safe?" was Shagarach's opening question to Miss Lamb. + +"On his knees," answered the maiden, still bonneted and fanning herself +with Emily's fan, which she had forgotten to return in the excitement of +the previous evening. + +"Mr. Aronson is not an uncommonly tall man, is he?" + +"A trifle taller than you are." + +"But yet not above the average," persisted Shagarach. + +"Perhaps not." + +"The government wishes us to believe that there was a bomb purposely +placed under this safe. That would raise it from the floor several +inches, would it not?" + +"I suppose so. I know nothing about the bomb." + +"Will you kindly explain how the locksmith could be kneeling while at +work on a safe which, according to the testimony of Miss Lund, at the +hearing, was resting on a shelf as high as her waist from the ground?" + +The witness fanned herself nervously and once or twice opened her lips +to reply, but no sound came forth. A wave of frightened sympathy passed +through the spectators in the prolonged interim of silence, like that +which seizes an audience when an orator falters and threatens to break +down. + +"You do not answer, Miss Lamb?" + +"I feel faint," said the girl. A chair and a glass of water were hurried +to her aid. + +"Are you sure this is the man Aronson who visited you?" asked Shagarach +when she had recovered. + +"Oh, yes." + +"Then we have two Aronsons in the case; Mr. Saul Aronson, my assistant, +and Mr. Jacob Aronson, the piano dealer, who will testify to having +received the postal card copied on the blotting-pad. And this Mr. +Aronson who visited you declared that he had been a locksmith, if I +understood your story?" + +"He said so." + +"That is not surprising. Mr. Aronson, my assistant, was formerly a +locksmith. What was the date of your interview?" + +"The first part of July. I can't remember the exact day," replied the +witness, a bit nettled. The rusticity was rubbing on again in her +manner, and to Saul Aronson it actually seemed that her cheekbones were +becoming prominent, like those of her horrid aunt whom he had met on +that fateful evening. But this may have been an optical illusion. The +sympathy of the spectators trembled in the balance. She seemed so young +and dove-like. But there stood Shagarach confronting her, hostile, +skeptical, uncompromising. + +"Mr. Aronson had made this alleged attempt to open a safe on Sunday +evening, you said?" + +"On the evening of the Sabbath." + +Here Aronson gesticulated and whispered in Shagarach's ear. The lawyer +listened calmly. + +"When did you first become acquainted with him?" + +"I don't remember exactly. He came to our meetings for a long time +before I was introduced to him." + +Serena blushed a little and Aronson's cheeks were all abloom. + +"He was a convert to your faith?" + +"So we thought." + +"How long had he been converted?" + +"I don't know." + +"Pineapple Jupiter says he introduced you to Mr. Aronson about four +months ago, if the district attorney reckons rightly from his periodic +hair-cuts. Then at the time of the visit to your house in July he must +have been a convert nearly two months?" + +"Perhaps." + +"But the will was only drawn on June 7. And Mr. Aronson, I understand +you to testify, yielded to this temptation before he was converted?" + +The witness did not answer, but looked around the court-room as if for +sympathy. + +"Are we to understand that he broke into the safe before the will was +placed there?" + +The witness fluttered her fan nervously and her lips were quivering. She +looked down. + +"Sunday evening, you said. You are probably not aware that Prof. Arnold +read in his own library every Sunday evening up to the time of his +death?" + +Serena began to cry. Instantly the tension of the audience was relaxed +and comments passed to and fro. + +"She belongs to the romantic school of statisticians," whispered Wye. +Ecks responded with a cartoon of "Miss Meekness, making a slip of the +decimal point." + +"Religious mania; hysterical mendacity," a doctor diagnosed it, with a +pompous frown. + +"Little minx had a craving for notoriety," said a woman, elderly, +unmarried and plain. + +"I should say it illustrates the pernicious effect of novel reading on a +rustic brain," murmured a clerical personage, clearing his throat before +he delivered himself. + +Suddenly Shagarach's insistence left him. His voice softened. With his +very first question, the distressed look, half of reproach, half of +sympathy, toward Serena, cleared away from Aronson's face. + +"Wasn't Mr. Aronson agitated on that evening, Miss Lamb?" + +She blushed amid her tears and her answer was less defiant. + +"Extremely agitated." + +"Wasn't his story to you somewhat confused in the telling?" + +"Very confused, yes, sir." + +"And perhaps the outlines blurred still more in your memory by the lapse +of time?" + +"Perhaps. I meant to speak of that myself," answered Serena, +brightening. Whereat the entire court-room brightened. Shagarach's +inflections became kind, almost genial now. One would have thought she +was his own witness, he stroked her so gently. + +"And his accent was somewhat hard to follow?" + +"Oh, very." + +"He is not perfectly familiar with our language as yet?" + +"No, he speaks it poorly." + +The court-room was all curiosity. + +"Didn't this picture of the study, which you have quoted, come in as +part of his description of a law case?" + +"Why, yes; he began talking about the Floyd case." + +"In which he was deeply interested at that time, as my assistant. That, +however, he did not make clear to you?" + +"No." + +"Can you swear that this whole picture of a Sunday-night entrance and +experiment on the safe was not an imaginary one--a piece of fiction, +invented and vividly told in the first person to illustrate what Robert +Floyd might easily have done if he had desired to destroy the will, but +what----" + +Shagarach inclined slightly toward the jury, "but what he evidently did +not do?" + +"Perhaps. Truly I couldn't catch half of what he was saying when he +began to talk rapidly." + +"I myself am a locksmith. He could come and give me money. We go Sunday +night. Nobody home. House all still. I get down on my knees. File a +little. Drill. Somebody come. I go away. Come again. Try again." + +Serena smiled a smile that sent waves of sunshine through the room. +Shagarach had not once descended to mimicry of his assistant's dialect. +But the broken fragments of speech, the confused arrangement, seemed to +call before Serena's eye an amusing picture of her lovelorn swain's +incoherence. + +"Perhaps I was altogether mistaken," she volunteered. + +Shagarach waved her with courtesy to the nonplussed though apparently +still obstinate district attorney. A long conference followed among the +prosecuting lawyers, while Emily heaved a sigh of relief. + +Over in his front seat Ecks was gazing at Shagarach, as if trying to +pierce the great brow, not opened showily, but masked, as it were, by +the loose-falling hair. The marvelous skill of his tactics--first, the +breaking down of Serena's story through its intrinsic discrepancies, +then the building up from her own lips of a hypothetical case in the +jurors' minds--all without deviating a hair line from true courtesy and +delicacy of treatment--sank deeply into the novelist's heart. He did not +reply to Wye's comment on the underplot. + +"Incarnate self-control!" he muttered to himself. + +But alas for poor Saul Aronson! It was bad enough to be compelled to +flee from suspicion post haste through the gateway of public ridicule. +But to realize at last that Serena was human and no angel--capable of +pique, brusqueness and tears--capable even of resisting Shagarach! The +scales of illusion fell from his eyes and he hung his head, a chastened +youth. + +"The redirect is deferred," said Bigelow, and Serena, after returning +the fan to Emily, stepped softly out. Her footfalls barely broke the +dead silence as she picked her way through the crowd. + +Aronson lifted his eyes to her face. What imperfections he noted now! +The eyebrows too level, the rosebud mouth too small and the cheekbones +unmistakably present, even if barely breaking the curve. It was fated +so. Doubtless in time he would follow old Abraham Barentzen's counsel +and take some comely daughter of Israel to wife, well-dowered, a good +housekeeper, and free from tittle-tattle. But never again would his +naive heart palpitate with such virginal ecstasy as when he first gazed +through the rose-misted spectacles of love on that sweetly imperfect +gentile maiden. + +"We shall now offer a mass of evidence," said the district attorney, +"tending to prove the crucial point of exclusive opportunity." + +Seven witnesses took the box, one after another, and in response to +Badger's questions, swore that they were neighbors of the Arnolds, were +wide-awake and observant about the time of the fire, but saw no person +coming out of the house either in front or rear. The evidence was +negative, but cumulatively it produced its effect, leading the minds of +the jury away from Serena Lamb and her legend to the real core of the +puzzle. By the time the last witness on this point arrived, a cordon of +watchers, completely environing the house, had been drawn around it by +the government, and it seemed impossible that any one could have slipped +through unobserved. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +A DUMB EYEWITNESS. + + +"Hodgkins Hodgkins," answered the first witness who testified after the +noon recess. + +"When did you first learn that Prof. Arnold had made a will?" asked the +district attorney. + +"On receipt of a letter from my esteemed friend, dated June 15." + +"What was the reason of Prof. Arnold's informing you of his action?" + +"A long-standing, I may say a life-long friendship, had induced him to +select me as his executor." + +"When you heard of his death, what action did you take?" + +"I was in New York at the time on important business, which I proceeded +to expedite as far as its weighty nature would permit. Large bodies +travel slowly, you know. Then when the transaction was completed to my +satisfaction I repaired to the city and visited the home of my departed +friend, the testator." + +"Did you let Floyd know of your coming?" + +"I apprised him of my intention and instructed him to lock the room in +which the document was guarded." + +"Did you actually call on the afternoon of the fire?" + +"A short delay, occasioned by my failure to find Mr. Hardwood, the +locksmith, who was to assist me in opening the safe, retarded my arrival +until 3:45. At that time the paper was beyond my reach." + +"You could not testify as to the contents of the will?" + +"Only in a general way." + +"Do you know any reason why, if the accused were expecting you, as he +stated that he was when he ordered the housemaid to dust the room, do +you know any reason why he should leave the house suddenly, without any +instructions as to your reception?" + +"That's the best point the prosecution has made!" exclaimed Wye. + +Ecks was executing a series of caricatures illustrating the involution +of Hodgkins' face back into a crab-apple. "You leave out his cunning," +suggested Wye, looking over the heads. + +"Not unless he had lighted this fire," said the senior member solemnly. +At which answer Shagarach rose with a shade more promptitude than +usual. + +"Why do you profess to be the executor of Benjamin Arnold's will?" + +"I am so styled over his own signature," answered Hodgkins, flourishing +the professor's letter. + +"Wasn't it proved in the probate proceedings that you were only to carry +out certain minor legacies?" + +"It is not becoming in me to anticipate the decision of the honorable +court in that matter." + +"As executor, then, did you try to uphold the will of your friend?" + +"In my opinion as a lawyer, it cannot be upheld." + +"In my opinion as a lawyer, it can. I ask you a question. Did you make +any effort to uphold the will of which you claim to have been nominated +executor?" + +"I satisfied myself that the task was fruitless." + +"You represented a client desirous of breaking the will at the probate +proceedings, did you not?" + +"The will was already broken, canceled, destroyed." + +"Do you or do you not perceive a gross indelicacy in your desperate +attempt to break the will of which you say you were appointed executor, +in order to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the disinherited heir?" + +"I am not here to discuss my conduct with you, sir," answered Hodgkins +testily, for the cross-examiner flusters quickly when he becomes the +cross-examined. + +"When did you arrive in New York?" + +"Friday evening." + +"When did you call on the Arnolds?" + +"On the Arnolds?" repeated Hodgkins, as if he did not understand the +question. + +"On Harry Arnold, I mean?" + +"Oh, Friday evening." + +"You went there directly?" + +"I did." + +"They were your clients?" + +"I am Mrs. Arnold's legal adviser." + +"You told Harry Arnold of your intention to call at his uncle's on the +following day and open the safe?" + +"I believe I announced my intention to approach the affair with +expedition." + +"Did he object or suggest a postponement?" + +"I cannot remember that he approved or demurred." + +"Do you mean to testify that you informed Floyd by letter the hour at +which you would call?" + +"I announced my general intention of calling." + +"In the same letter in which you requested him to lock the study?" + +"There was only one letter. It was dispatched from New York." + +"Then how did Floyd learn of your contemplated visit?" + +"I have understood that he was informed by Mrs. Arnold that afternoon." + +"From whom did you understand this?" + +"From Mrs. Arnold herself," said Hodgkins, looking toward that lady. + +"You told her the hour?" + +"Half-past two." + +"And Mrs. Arnold called on Floyd, I believe, at about 2:45?" + +"I believe so. I am not informed as to the exact minute." + +"Was she there by appointment with you?" + +"Not exactly. However, I had informed her of the time." + +"As you stated before. Then Floyd only knew of your proposed visit at +second hand through Mrs. Arnold?" + +"I had not informed him." + +"You might have entered and taken the will away without his knowledge, +then?" + +"It might have been done, though I assure you we had no such intention." + +"When did you arrive at the house?" + +"At 3:45." + +"And Floyd had left a little before 3:30. He had waited for one hour, +without the courtesy of an appointment from you. Then because he chose +to leave the house, and did not wait upon your pleasure, you infer that +he must have committed arson and procured the death of seven of his +fellow-creatures. That will do." + +"Charles Checkerberry." + +A railroad conductor stepped forward to take the oath. + +"What names!" said Ecks to Wye. "It's like a census of Bedlam Proper." + +But Wye did not answer. He was wondering if he could weave the safe +explosion into the plot of his next melodrama. + +"You are a conductor on the Southern railroad?" asked the district +attorney. + +"Yes, sir." + +"What time did your train leave the city on the afternoon of Saturday, +June 28?" + +"The express train left at 3:29." + +"Did you see the accused riding on that train?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Get a full look at him." + +"I am positive that is the man. I remember the fact because he had no +ticket and had to pay his fare----" + +"To what point?" + +"To Woodlawn." + +"Go on." + +"He paid his fare and declined to take the coupon, which is worth ten +cents when presented at the ticket office. Told me to keep it myself." + +"This generosity is not common among passengers?" + +"No, sir. That is why the incident impressed itself upon my memory." + +"Did you notice anything unusual in the appearance of the accused?" + +"I noticed he seemed rather excited." + +"And got off at Woodlawn?" + +"Yes, sir; jumped off at Woodlawn and crossed the fields over toward the +woods." + +"On the unfrequented side of the station?" + +"Yes, sir; toward the cemetery. There is only one house on that side." + +"Whose house is that?" asked Shagarach. + +"The Arnolds', I believe." + +"Do you know Harry Arnold?" + +"No, sir." + +"He rides in on the Northern line usually, I presume?" + +"I believe so; it is more up-town." + +"In the city, you mean?" + +"Yes, sir; a great deal more convenient to the high-toned section." + +"Then if this passenger were Harry Arnold he would have had to pay a +cash fare on your railroad, as well as one not used to riding over the +road, like Floyd?" + +"I suppose so. We don't exchange tickets with the Northern." + +"You see a great many hundred faces in the course of a week?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"How many tall, dark young men, wearing full mustaches and answering to +the general description of the accused, should you say you had seen +since June 28?" + +"Oh, I couldn't say as to that." + +"A hundred?" + +"More, probably." + +"But out of these hundred or more you have a distinct recollection of +this one, the accused?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And would swear his life away on the strength of your recollection?" + +"Well, not exactly----" + +"That is all." + +"One moment," said the district attorney. "Your occupation and +experience give you exceptional training in the study of faces, do they +not?" + +"Yes, sir." + +At this moment Harry Arnold came into the courtroom, attended by a great +St. Bernard. The young man had hardly stepped inside the bar, when a +deep bark was heard and the dog leaped toward the accused, standing on +his hind legs and placing his paws on the wall of the cage, while he +licked Robert's hands like a spaniel. Emily was deeply affected and +tried to distract Sire's attention, but he had eyes only for his master. + +"Down, Sire," said Robert. + +Shagarach had paused during the interruption. + +"Will you kindly shut your eyes, Mr. Checkerberry?" he now said. + +The witness did as requested. Then Shagarach stepped up to Harry Arnold +and whispered to him. Harry looked at him oddly. But he shook off the +momentary confusion, and, scarcely looking at the witness, exclaimed: + +"Am I the man you saw?" + +"You are," answered the conductor. + +"Open your eyes. Which of these two men spoke to you?" asked Shagarach. +Robert stood up beside his cousin. The resemblance was indeed striking. +Both were about the same height and both strongly marked with the +peculiarities of kindred blood. The conductor turned from one to the +other. + +"Very well," said Shagarach. "It is the face of Jacob, but the voice of +Esau. For the present, that will do." + +"Miss Senda Wesner." + +While the bakeshop girl was pushing her way forward from the back seat +which she had occupied, Sire, who was squeezed where he lay, gravely +arose, climbed the vacated witness-box and spread his great limbs out, +majestically contemplating the spectators. + +"This is the one eyewitness of the crime," said the district attorney. + +"But unfortunately dumb," added Shagarach. Just then an impulse seized +Emily, who had left the cage for a moment--Emily, the most shrinking of +girls--and catching a large waste-basket which stood under the lawyers' +desks to receive the litter that accumulates in trials, she stood up and +shoved it toward the dog. + +To everybody's surprise, he scrambled to his feet in alarm, backed +hastily away and barked continuously at the harmless object. Then +before the whole court, judges, jury and all, Emily clapped her hands +and gave a girlish shriek of delight--only to sink in her place +afterward, as the spectators smiled, and hide her blushes behind her +fan. But it was some little while before Sire would let her pat him. + +"You work opposite the Arnold house, Miss Wesner?" asked the district +attorney. + +"Directly opposite. I can look right over into their windows," said +Senda. + +"But I hope you don't." + +"Well, I try not to, but sometimes, you know, you can't resist the +inclination," chattered the bakeshop girl. + +"You can always try." + +"Oh, I do try, but you know----" + +"Yes, I know. We all know. At what hour did you see Floyd coming out of +his house on the afternoon of the fire?" + +"The fire was going before 3:30, because I saw it. And I'll swear Mr. +Floyd left the house at least four minutes, probably five, before." + +"Walking to the right or to the left?" + +"To my right, his left," answered Senda, glibly. + +"And the flames broke out shortly after he went out?" + +"Well, of course----" began the witness, all primed with an argument. + +"Please answer yes or no." + +"No--I mean yes." + +"You heard the explosion?" + +"Heard it? Why----" + +"Where did it appear to come from?" + +"It came from Prof. Arnold's study, as plain as your voice comes from +you, but I don't see----" + +"That will do," said the district attorney, handing the witness over to +Shagarach. + +"What do you say to my sketch of this Hebe?" asked Ecks. + +"The drawing would be creditable in a gingerbread doll," answered Wye. + +They were a sorry pair of lookers-on, both of them, appearing to regard +the whole panorama of creation as a sort of arsenal of happy +suggestions, especially established by Providence for the embellishment +of their forthcoming works. But Hans Heiderman in his back seat didn't +think she appeared homely at all in her red-checked dress and flaming +hair, done up in Circassian coils. Of course he was looking at the soul +of the girl, which was better than gold, and which neither Ecks nor Wye, +for all their wise smiles, the least bit understood. + +"You are rather accurate in your observations of time?" asked Shagarach. + +"Oh, yes; I'm noted for that. I haven't looked at the clock for an hour, +but I could tell you what time it is now." + +"Shut your eyes and tell me." + +"It is--about seventeen minutes past 4." + +"Seventeen and a half," announced Shagarach, taking out his watch. Every +man in the room, except the judges, had done likewise, while the ladies +all studied the clock. + +"Very good. At what time would you fix the explosion in the study?" + +"About 3:34." + +"One minute earlier, then, than District Chief Wotherspoon. Now, Miss +Wesner, do you recollect anything about a peddler in a green cart that +used to come to Prof. Arnold's?" + +"Oh, that peddler. Yes, indeed, I----" + +"How long had he been vending his goods through Cazenove street?" + +"About a month. I know I never----" + +"Had you seen him before that?" + +"Never saw him before in my life, but----" + +"How often did he come by?" + +"Two or three times a week." + +She had almost given up the attempt to work in her explanations +edgewise. The rapid volley of questions prevented all elaboration. + +"How often did he stop at Prof. Arnold's?" + +"Almost every time." + +"Was it Bertha who came to the door?" + +"No, sir; it was Ellen generally. She was the cook, you know; got $4 a +week, but she wasn't a patch on Bertha just the same." + +"When did he stop coming with his--vegetables, was it, he sold?" + +"Yes, sir; vegetables, and once potted plants." + +"And when did he stop coming?" + +"Just before the Arnold fire." + +"You never saw him after the fire--as a peddler, I mean?" + +Shagarach had not yet received an answer from the superintendent of +Woodlawn cemetery, and was still in the dark about his assailant. But +from the evidence he had he was satisfied that he could prove a +connection with Harry Arnold. + +"No, sir; not as a peddler." + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY. + + +So McCausland was right, after all. The oaf had just been captured by +the local police of Woodlawn, and inquiry had vindicated the inspector's +surmise. + +Far back in our story there was mention of a half-witted brother of the +Lacy girls, who jumped from the Harmon building and were killed. Nature +had made one of her capriciously unequal divisions of talent in this +family, gifting the daughters with all graces and allurements of +character, but misshaping their elder brother, Peter, both in body and +mind. And Fate, instead of rectifying the hard allotment by the merciful +removal of the oaf, had deprived the household instead of its fairer +inmates, leaving the monster to flourish on, sleeping, breathing, +performing all animal functions healthily, but reflecting only sorrow +into the heart of the mother who bore him. + +The death of his sisters had converted this harmless driveller into a +maniac, nursing one deadly thought. At the Lacy common table the case of +Robert Floyd was, of course, followed with keen interest, especially +since the shyster, Slack, had persuaded certain advisory relatives, and +through them the mother, that some compensation in money for the loss of +her girls might result from an appeal to the courts. Shagarach's name, +as the defender, the possible savior of Floyd, this wrecker of their +household peace, had impressed itself on the addled intelligence of the +oaf, and being sufficiently taught to read and endowed with the cunning +of his sort, he had begun with the incoherent letters to the lawyer, and +ended with three assaults which had so nearly cost him his life. Floyd, +behind the prison bars, was beyond his reach; but if the criminal +records of the time had included any attempt to force a way into a jail +cell it is probable that the maniac would have essayed an imitation of +this. For, as McCausland had keenly noted, each of his attacks had been +made under suggestion from the daily chronicles. + +Since the fire he had wandered away from home--though previously a +devoted house-haunter--probably making the rude hut in the forest his +abode and indulging his mania amid that forest solitude in long fits of +brooding. Just why he chose this habitation the mother could not say, +unless it was to be near his sister's grave. From time to time he had +returned, always to beg a little money or some articles of necessity, +and when questioned on his doings he had manifested a temper which he +was rarely known to exhibit before. + +The mystery of his identity with the peddler was explained by Mrs. Lacy +when Shagarach asked her the whereabouts of her son during June. It +seems there was a street vender named Hotaling, who added to his revenue +in summer time by hiring young men to exploit the outlying suburbs with +spring produce. Strictly speaking, a license would be required, even +though their sales were made beyond the city limits. But Hotaling +dispensed with this formality, and the teamsters he employed were +unsteady fellows, of the least savory appearance, whom he rewarded with +a commission, keeping their accounts correct by the terror by which he +personally inspired them. Among Hotaling's possessions was a green cart, +and the driver selected to occupy its seat had been Peter Lacy, who had +wit enough to harness a horse and make change (indeed, he was very +shrewd at a bargain), and who accepted a pittance as recompense. The +simpleton's district had been Woodlawn. But his road from the city +market took him close to Cazenove street. + +When, the next morning, the district attorney announced that Harry +Arnold and Bertha would testify, closing the case for the prosecution, +Shagarach knew that his time was at hand. + +"Mr. Hodgkins has attested the existence of a will and the accused +himself at the preliminary hearing admitted knowing that he was +virtually disinherited. We have, however, thought it well to strengthen +this vital point by calling a witness who will testify to the same +admission made upon another occasion. Mr. Harry Arnold." + +"You are a nephew of the late Prof. Arnold?" + +"Yes, sir; his brother's son," answered Harry. He was just the least bit +nervous, his glances wandering from Shagarach's face to his mother's and +then resting with a brighter expression on that of Rosalie March, who +had come into the court-room to-day for the first time. The wild rose in +her cheeks was blooming warmly through the gossamer she wore to hide +them and her blue eyes were lifted trustfully to her lover's. Once they +caught Emily's and she bowed with a smile. Emily returned the bow, but +her heart was too full for smiling. She was sorry Rosalie had come that +morning, for Shagarach's manner told her that he was condensing his +thoughts in the resolve to wring the truth from Harry. + +"And a cousin of the accused?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Your relations have always been pleasant, I presume?" + +"We have never had any permanent falling-out." + +"And are so still?" + +"Yes, sir, on my part. I hope with all my heart the jury will find him +innocent," answered Harry, with every appearance of candor. + +"Have you ever had any conversation with him on the subject of your +uncle's will?" + +"Only once." + +"When was that?" + +"Within a week after the fire." + +"And where?" + +"At the county jail." + +"It was while the accused was in custody of the sheriff, I believe?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"How did you happen to visit the accused at that time?" + +"I was his only living kinsman. My visit was one of sympathy." + +"And what statement did the accused make regarding his knowledge of the +will?" + +"Why, I believe he owned incidentally that he was disinherited, but +everybody knew it then. It was all over the town. So was I, it seems, +for that matter," added Harry. + +"Everybody's knowledge is nobody's knowledge. We cannot take things for +granted because rumor has spread them broadcast. We want your specific +testimony that the accused acknowledged having learned from his uncle +that he was to receive only an insignificant fraction of the fortune +which all his life he had been expecting." + +"That is my recollection of it." + +"Was there any further conversation on the subject?" + +"No, sir; it came up incidentally." + +Shagarach paused a moment before beginning the cross-examination. Harry +eyed him and during every second of the pause the witness' color +mounted. Something in the lawyer's appearance still confused him. "This +was a visit of sympathy?" asked Shagarach. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then you have seen the accused frequently since his imprisonment, I +presume?" + +"Well, no, I have not." + +"When did you see him last previous to yesterday?" + +"Well, not since the first week." + +"Not since this visit of sympathy, do you mean?" + +"That was the last time." + +"Then all your sympathy expended itself in that single visit?" + +"No, not exactly." + +"Why didn't you renew it?" + +"Rob and I didn't part good friends." + +"Indeed? And what was the cause of your disagreement?" + +"Some thoughtless words of mine." + +"Then you were at fault?" + +"Wholly. I have been sorry since." + +"But you have kept your repentance to yourself until now, have you not?" + +"Well----" + +"And volunteered to testify against your cousin?" + +"No, sir; I was subpoenaed." + +"From what quarter do you suppose these rumors of Floyd's disinheritance +arose?" + +"I don't know." + +"Consider that answer carefully." + +"I have done so. I don't know. I read it in the papers." + +"You knew Floyd was disinherited before your visit to his cell?" + +"No, sir." + +"You knew you yourself were disinherited before the fire?" + +"No, sir." + +"You knew a will had been made?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"From whom?" + +"From my mother." + +"Your mother and yourself share most items of family interest between +you?" + +"Naturally we do. We have no secrets from each other." + +"Wasn't it your mother who first informed Mr. McCausland that Robert had +been disinherited?" + +"I don't know." + +"Yet you read the papers, you said." + +"I must have skipped that item." + +"How did Mrs. Arnold know this fact?" + +"I don't know." + +"You are very rich, Mr. Arnold?" + +"Yes, we are considered wealthy." + +"So rich that I presume you were indifferent whether Prof. Arnold added +to your fortunes or not by a bequest of his property?" + +"He may have thought we didn't need anything more." + +"How large a stud of horses do you keep?" + +"In all? Only six." + +"How many servants?" + +"Six." + +"For a family of two?" + +"My mother and myself. But then, we entertain a good deal." + +"You have a summer residence at Hillsborough?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And a house at Woodlawn?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"The supplies for your table are not generally purchased from a common +street vender, I presume?" + +"I don't know. I don't attend to the commissariat." + +"Shouldn't you suppose they would come from market?" + +"Game and such things, yes." + +"And greens?" + +"Yes, I suppose so." + +"When did you first hear of the burning of Prof. Arnold's house?" + +"That's hard to say at this distance of time." + +"I wish you would try to recollect." + +"Why, I think the morning afterward--Sunday morning. Yes, it was in the +Sunday papers. I remember now." + +"You remember distinctly?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"What paper?" + +"The Beacon. We take no other." + +The Beacon was the paper upon which Robert was employed, thus forming a +curious bond of communication between the two Arnold households. + +"You were not in town, then, that afternoon?" + +"No, sir." + +"Positive of that?" + +"Why, yes; I was ill--or, rather, just convalescing from a fever. Dr. +Whipple called, I believe, to see me that very Saturday." + +"In the forenoon or afternoon?" + +"Afternoon." + +"About what hour?" + +"About 3:45." + +"And this fire started at 3:30?" + +"I heard a witness say so in the testimony yesterday." + +"Of your own knowledge you couldn't say when it started?" + +"No, sir." + +Harry was red as fire during all these rapid questions, some apparently +aimless, some sharply pointed. + +"A man could not start that fire in Cazenove street at 3:30 and reach +your house in Woodlawn at 3:45, could he?" + +"Not very well." + +"He might, however, start the fire at 3:28 and reach your house at +3:48?" + +"I don't know," said Harry. "Twenty minutes isn't long." + +"Isn't there a train which leaves the Southern depot at 3:29?" + +"I never use the Southern depot." + +"Never?" + +"Well, not enough to know the trains." + +"I have not said that you did, Mr. Arnold. It happens, however, that +there was a train--an express train--which left the Southern depot at +3:29 on June 28, arriving in Woodlawn at 3:45. A person starting from +Prof. Arnold's house at 3:28 could have caught that train, could he +not?" + +"In one minute? Yes, by hurrying." + +"And, leaving the train at Woodlawn at 3:45, he could have arrived in +your house at 3:48, could he not?" + +"Yes, sir, by walking briskly." + +"Across the fields?" + +"Across the fields." + +"Wasn't it 3:48 when Dr. Whipple visited you on that Saturday of the +fire?" + +"Why, of course I could not swear within a minute or two." + +"But a minute or two is momentous at times--when a train is to be taken, +for example." + +"Oh, yes." + +"What were you doing all Saturday afternoon before the doctor arrived?" + +"Why"--Harry hesitated--"I was ill in my chamber." + +"Reading?" + +"Perhaps. Killing time lazily." + +"You have frequently to do that, I presume?" + +"Sir?" + +"You have no orderly programme arranged for every day?" + +"Well, it varies." + +"But never includes any useful occupation, I believe?" + +"Well, I can afford to enjoy life." + +"You are rich, you said. How fortunate to be rich! The great problem of +life then is solved for you by the drawing of a quarterly check?" + +"Well, not exactly." + +"If you require money, however, you simply ask for it and it comes forth +like the genii of the lamp?" + +"I can usually meet what expenses I incur." + +"Do you remember a man named Reddy?" + +"Reddy?" repeated Harry, coloring a shade more and glancing over at +Rosalie. + +"Reddy," repeated Shagarach, insistently. + +"What is his business?" + +"He is dead," said the lawyer, and the witness knew that evasion was +futile. + +"Oh, yes, I knew that Reddy--slightly." + +"Do you remember forfeiting several thousand dollars to him one evening +in a certain room?" + +"Yes." + +Harry was driven to the wall. He set his teeth, and now, finally at bay, +his spirit seemed to return. + +"Where did that money come from?" + +"From my mother." + +"And from whom did she get it?" + +Harry hesitated. + +"From one Simon Rabofsky, a money-lender, was it not?" + +"Yes." + +"She had sold her family jewels, had she not?" + +"Yes." + +"She kept you in funds?" + +"Yes, but she knew nothing of my habits." + +"Then you lied to her to obtain money?" + +"Yes." + +"And you lied to the court awhile ago when you said that you were rich?" + +"No, sir; it was only a temporary embarrassment." + +"Have the jewels been redeemed?" + +"I believe not." + +"Do rich people generally pawn their family heirlooms and permit them to +be sold?" + +"Well, no." + +"Then you were so circumstanced that your disinheritance under your +uncle's will might seriously incommode you?" + +"Well, his money might afford us relief." + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +WEATHERVANES VEER. + + +"Do you know Ellen Greeley?" + +"I did know her slightly." + +"Never corresponded with her?" + +"Oh, no." + +"You have a key to your own house, I suppose?" + +"Certainly." + +"And can slip out and in unobserved?" + +"If I choose to." + +"Which door do you generally use going into your uncle's house?" + +"The front door always." + +"And in coming out?" + +"The same." + +"You knew, however, that there was a side door opening into the +passageway?" + +"Yes." + +"How long are you back from Lenox?" + +"Two weeks." + +"Do you remember an evening entertainment there at Mr. March's?" + +"The purple tea? Yes, sir." + +"Do you remember falling into a species of trance on that occasion?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Do you remember what was on your right hand when you awoke?" + +The witness drew a deep breath before he answered. He no longer had the +heart to look toward Rosalie, though her eyes were turned with stony +fixity upon his face and she had even lifted her veil. + +Shagarach's manner was now as imperious, as fierce, as on that memorable +evening. + +"Yes," answered Harry; "it was a lemon-colored glove." + +"Whose glove?" + +"Mine." + +"A lost glove?" + +"Yes." + +"A right-hand glove?" + +"Yes." + +"Where had you lost it?" + +Harry hesitated. + +"Will you look about the room and tell me if you see any person besides +your mother whom you saw on that Saturday afternoon of the fire?" + +Walter Riley had recovered by this time from Kennedy's caning and +occupied a front seat among the spectators. But it was Rosalie's eye +that Harry met--met and hastily avoided. Had she seen him after all that +afternoon when he crossed Bond street from the burning house? Would this +remorseless inquisitor contradict his denial with the affirmation of the +woman he loved? + +"Wasn't it you instead of Floyd who paid a cash fare to Conductor +Checkerberry on the 3:29 train and whose voice he recognized here +yesterday?" + +"Yes," said Harry, "it was." + +"Then you had heard of the fire before Sunday morning?" + +"I had." + +"And you lied again when you testified to the contrary?" + +"I am sick of lying. Let me tell you the truth." + +"It is the truth I am searching for." + +"You have tripped and tangled me," said Harry, speaking slowly, "so that +my actions when I make a clean breast of them may look worse than they +were. I wish I had told you the truth from the beginning. I was a fool +to hide it at all. + +"I did leave Woodlawn that Saturday for my uncle's house on the 3 +o'clock train and returned on the 3:29 from the city. I had been wrought +up by Mr. Hodgkins' visit of the night before. He was going to open the +safe at 2:30 the next day and the will would be read at last. If I were +disinherited I should be absolutely penniless, dependent on my mother, +and her property, I knew, was encumbered." + +"Your mother, then, was your father's sole heir?" asked the district +attorney. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Encumbered largely through your extravagance?" added Shagarach. + +"Through my extravagance. I was on pins and needles, too nervous to +sleep, to eat--the servants can corroborate that--until this should be +settled; too nervous even to await my mother's return." + +"She had driven in to meet Mr. Hodgkins?" + +"She had. It must have been nearly 3:25 when I arrived and the +appointment of Hodgkins was at 2:30." + +"You took the Southern line?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" + +"Because I heard the train coming. I acted on the impulse, flung out of +the house and headed it off." + +"Go on." + +"I walked toward my uncle's up Broad street, entered the passageway, +mounted the steps and found the side door open." + +"Open?" + +"I mean unlocked, not ajar. There was no one stirring in the lower +floor. I wondered whether Hodgkins had come and the safe was opened. +Then I went upstairs to the study." + +"Your glove in your left hand?" + +"As I remember it, yes. I forgot to mention the barking of the dog +upstairs. When I got to the study door the barking was louder and the +dog seemed to be pawing at the door inside. Smoke was streaming out +through the keyhole and I could hear a loud crackling inside. I looked +at my watch"--here Harry's delivery grew broken and he stuttered over +the words--"I looked at my watch and saw that I had time to catch the +3:29. So I ran out the way I had come, slammed the door, knocked over +some boys that were blocking up the alleyway, crossed Broad street and +dove into the little passage called Marketman's row, which opens at the +other end opposite the door of the depot. + +"The 3:29 train was just steaming out when I caught the last car. At +Woodlawn I jumped off on the unused side of the station and crossed the +meadows to my house. Dr. Whipple had just come and had been directed to +my room. I doubt if even the servants knew of my departure and arrival." + +There was a pause when Harry finished. He looked straight at Shagarach, +flush-cheeked and ashamed, but with all the Arnold boldness. + +"You have left out the vital part of your story," said the lawyer, when +it appeared that the witness had nothing more to add. "Why did you fly +from a stream of smoke issuing through a keyhole?" + +"There were two reasons, shameful both of them, but I ask you to +remember that I had recently risen from a fever and that I was greatly +excited at the time. In the first place, the image of the safe in that +study had haunted me for days." + +"Although you have testified that you did not know you were +disinherited. Is that another lie?" + +"No, sir; it is the truth. I had absolutely no knowledge of the terms of +my uncle's will." + +"Then why were you apprehensive? Why did the image of the safe in which +it was guarded haunt you?" + +"Because--because I feared what actually did happen. I feared that he +had bequeathed my share of his property elsewhere." + +"Go on." + +"I knew that the destruction of the safe would set me back to my +position as heir, would assure me $5,000,000. It could do me no harm. +That idea flashed through me as I stood on the landing, with my hand on +the knob. And then my own position! I might be accused of setting the +fire for that very purpose. This was the thought that led me to flee. I +remember looking at my watch, as I said. The 3:29 train would place me +in safety almost before the fire was under way." + +"And as a matter of fact, you were back in Woodlawn almost before the +first stream of water was played upon the burning building?" + +"I reached there at 3:45." + +"You didn't stop to liberate the dog?" + +"No, sir." + +"You didn't think it your duty to save property and life by checking the +flames or at least giving the alarm?" + +"No, sir." + +"You simply wanted your uncle's money." + +"I wanted my uncle's money." + +The gathering indignation of the audience expressed itself at this +avowal by a sharp, spontaneous hiss. But the prisoner only bit his lips. +The officers rapped for order and Chief Justice Playfair arose. + +"I cannot find it in my heart to rebuke this manifestation, unseemly +though it be in a temple of justice. For I knew Benjamin Arnold for many +years. His cheek at the age of nearly fourscore had the rosy flush of a +boy's and his unimpaired vigor was a living attestation of the pure +youth and honorable manhood through which he had passed. He deserved a +better return from his brother's son than the avaricious greed for his +riches which the witness has confessed." + +"Your honor," said Harry, "I have not made myself understood. It is not +for me to parry your honor's rebuke. I have richly deserved it. I have +been selfish and a seeker of my own pleasure. But it would be unjust to +my better self, which is now struggling to the surface, if I did not +disown the entertainment of such feelings now. I am on the stand under +oath and I told you the simple truth about my motives at that critical +moment." + +"I find it hard," replied the chief justice, "to understand such a frame +of mind. If you were present and consented to the fire, as you admit, by +failing to check the flames or give the alarm, then it appears to me +that you are morally if not legally a self-confessed accessory after the +fact." + +"The explanation can only deepen my blame, your honor. I itched for +money at that time. Yet all that I received flowed from me faster than +it came. I had exhausted my mother's income, trenched upon her credit, +borrowed of my friends, and still I craved more. I was a victim of the +passion for games of chance." + +"Then you were capable of the gravest crimes," said Chief Justice +Playfair. + +"The fact that the witness took the 3 o'clock train when the will was +supposed to have been read at 2:30," said the district attorney, "seems +to me evidence that he had not contemplated a crime in coming." + +"I do not charge that he contemplated a crime when he started from the +house," answered Shagarach, promptly, "but I do charge that, finding an +opportunity to hand, Harry Arnold, who by his own confession was present +at the door of his uncle's study at the time this fire started, yielded +to an evil impulse, ignited the loose papers lying about and fled." + +"Harry Arnold has, indeed, been traced to the study door," retorted the +district attorney, "but Robert Floyd was inside the room." + +"Then we must bring Harry Arnold across the threshold," said Shagarach, +resuming the cross-examination. + +"Did you not know when you entered the house that the safe was unopened, +owing to Hodgkins' detention?" + +"No, sir; I knew nothing about that. When I went I expected to meet +Hodgkins there." + +"Then what good would it do you to see your uncle's study burned if it +contained only an empty safe?" + +"I didn't know whether the will was in the safe or not." + +"And you didn't know whether the will disinherited you or not?" + +"No, sir." + +"But, acting on the possibility that there might be a will there, which +might disinherit you, you ran away and left the house to burn?" + +"It was contemptible, I admit." + +"Hadn't you met your mother that afternoon?" + +"Not after she left Woodlawn." + +"What time was that?" + +"Before 2 o'clock." + +"She left in a carriage?" + +"Yes, sir; one of the family carriages." + +"And arrived at your uncle's toward three?" + +"She has told me so." + +"Leaving there a little after three?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"She might have driven around, then, for fifteen minutes and returned by +the Southern depot just in time to meet you?" + +"She might have done so." + +"And inform you of Hodgkins' detention?" + +"She might have done so, but whether you believe me or not, I never saw +my mother until she came home that evening." + +"Or any messenger from her?" + +"Or any messenger." + +"Did you set the fire?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did Floyd set it?" + +"I refuse to believe that he did." + +"Then who did? It must have been one or the other of you two." + +"Or both of them," whispered Inspector McCausland to John Davidson, but +the marshal shook his head. + +"It is a mystery I cannot solve," said Harry Arnold. + +"Let us help you, then. You testified before that you never corresponded +with Ellen Greeley?" + +"Why should I correspond with the girl?" + +"In order that she might sell you what information she could overhear +about your uncle's will." + +Shagarach brought his face closer to Harry's and his eyes seemed to +blaze like searchlights, illuminating the depths of the young man's +soul. + +"Will you kindly read that aloud?" The lawyer handed his witness a +letter. Harry glanced it over curiously, then read: + + "'The peddler has not come for two days, so I send you this by a + trustworthy messenger. As I wrote you in my last, the professor + said in the study: "Harry gets his deserts." That was all I could + hear. Only he and Mr. Robert talked for a long time afterward. The + will is in the safe in the study. If I hear anything more I will + let you know, and please send me the money you promised me soon.'" + +"Whose handwriting is that?" asked Shagarach. + +"I never saw it before." + +"It is unsigned, unaddressed and undated, is it not?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Presumably, then, a letter in which both sender and receiver desired to +conceal their names?" + +"Perhaps so. I cannot offer an opinion as to that." + +"Don't you know that letter was written by Ellen Greeley to you?" + +"No, sir; I never received such a letter." + +"I am aware that you never received it. But you received the previous +letters referred to in this case, did you not? You received the letter +stating that 'Harry gets his deserts,' meaning obviously that he gets +nothing, did you not?" + +"No, sir; I have never received a shred of communication from Ellen +Greeley." + +"Do you know the peddler referred to in this letter?" + +"No, sir." + +At this point Mrs. Arnold, who had sat through each of the three +previous days' sessions, arose hurriedly and passed out. Shagarach just +caught a glimpse of a lady's back departing, but the vacant seat told +its story. He paused in his examination of Harry. It was Mrs. Arnold who +had put McCausland on Floyd's track, Mrs. Arnold who had stolen Harry's +photographs from Jacob, Mrs. Arnold who had driven up to the house in a +carriage, Mrs. Arnold who would naturally deal, through her servants, +with a street vender calling at the house. + +"A subpoena blank!" he cried suddenly to Aronson. His pen flew over the +paper, filling in names and other details. + +"Serve that at any cost," he said to his assistant, and Aronson smooched +the ink, so eager was he to obey. + +"You do not know the peddler?" said Shagarach, taking up the +cross-examination. + +"No, sir." + +"You never saw a peddler in a green cart that used to call at your house +in Woodlawn during the month of June?" + +"Not to my knowledge. Of course, there are peddlers everywhere and some +of them have green carts." + +"Wouldn't you regard it as a peculiar circumstance if a particular +peddler began calling at your house and your uncle's house about the +time your uncle made his will and stopped his visits after the fire?" + +"I don't know that I should attach importance to that circumstance. It +might be accidental." + +"But he might also be a go-between." + +"Between whom?" + +"Between you and Ellen Greeley." + +"I never conducted any intrigue of any kind with Ellen Greeley." + +"Did you know the man who was captured here yesterday?" + +"No, sir." + +"Wasn't he the peddler referred to in Ellen Greeley's letter?" + +"The letter you handed me? I do not know." + +"Is this one of your lies or the truth?" + +"This is the truth." + +"How are we to distinguish between your lying and truth-telling?" + +Harry was silent. + +"The only means of distinction thus far has been our own superior proof +of the facts." + +"I can only give you my word. If you choose to doubt it I am helpless." + +"Will you please explain how your mother, who has left the court-room, I +perceive, was able to inform Mr. McCausland that Robert Floyd was +disinherited by his uncle and thus guide the finger of suspicion toward +an innocent man from you, the incendiary?" + +"I had no hand or finger in setting that fire. Circumstances tell +against me. I have debased my own word, ruined my credibility, by a +series of perjuries, all flowing from one initial folly. I can now +understand my cousin's position--the shame of being misunderstood, +unjustly suspected, though I am not fortified, as I feel that he is, by +a consciousness of stainless honor throughout the affair. If he is +guilty, then I am, and I ask--or, rather, I insist--that you shall place +me under the same restriction of liberty as my cousin. Let me sleep +under the same roof, endure the same privations, until he is acquitted +and set free. For if to have had wrongdoing, ever so remotely, in one's +heart is guilt, then I am the guiltier of us two." + +"The sheriff, I think, will provide you a lodging," said Shagarach, +coolly, and after a conference between the chief justice, the district +attorney and the lawyer it was announced that a warrant for Harry +Arnold's arrest would be granted and that he would spend the night in a +cell. + +"There are still several points against the prisoner not met," said the +district attorney, when Shagarach moved for Robert's discharge. + +"It is a new doctrine that a man should be held because there is +reasonable doubt of his innocence," said the lawyer. But the district +attorney was rigid and the chief justice thought it best, since there +was only one more witness for the prosecution, to let the jury decide +upon the facts, which were properly their province. + +"Forgive me, Rosalie," said Harry, humbly, as he passed her, going out, +and her eyes, though they were full of mortification, disillusion, +rebuke, told that she forgave him because she loved him. + +"Arnold or Floyd?" was the alternative on the lips of the multitude +surging homeward after that dramatic day, and Robert for the first time +was actually cheered when he left the courthouse. + +"Looks as though we might have two hangings instead of one," remarked +Inspector McCausland to a reporter. + +"Did you notice the expression on that woman who went out?" said Ecks to +Wye. + +"No." + +"Guilt," said Ecks, shuffling his notes into his pocket. Then Emily saw +Rosalie March's beautiful face soiled with tears and hastened down to +comfort her. + +"I am sorry," she said. "Don't fear for Harry. Nobody in the world set +that fire. It just caught----" + +But why importune readers with Emily's theory, when they have doubtless +already guessed it in detail? + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +MARK TIME, MARCH! + + +Now that Robert's acquittal was almost assured, Emily's pity began to +overflow toward Harry Arnold and Rosalie, whose position was exactly her +own of the day before. For the vox populi had generally determined on +Harry's guilt, though there were not wanting some who, like the father +in the parable, were disposed to welcome the brilliant prodigal with +lavish entertainment, freely extending the forgiveness he implored, +while slighting the steadfastly loyal son who had never wandered from +the path of virtue. This was poor recompense to Robert for his +summer-long immurement, but he was put together of a substance +impervious to the acid actions of criticism or neglect--the oaken fiber +of the English Arnolds. + +In all quarters curiosity was active about the defense. It was said by +some that the prosecution had broken down, or might break down at any +minute, and even if the last reluctant victim were haled up by Bigelow +to the shambles, where Shagarach stood, ax in hand, awaiting her, that +it would be hammering on a driven nail to put on the long array of +witnesses who had been summoned in behalf of the accused. Nevertheless +the newspapers were at pains to worm out the names of these witnesses +and to diet the public with prophetic outlines of their testimony. + +The gist of it all was that Shagarach meant to clinch his client's +defense by building up a case against Harry. + +Of course Emily found it hard to communicate her own confidence to +Rosalie March, although Bertha was to take the stand the following +morning and her theory would then (as she believed) receive a triumphant +demonstration. What made Harry's face fall more bitter was that the date +of his espousal to the beautiful actress had just been given to the +world. From Rosalie's hard glance at Shagarach, Emily knew there was as +much blame in her heart for the lawyer as for her lover. And Rosalie was +not the only girl who would have ransomed Harry Arnold, perjurer, +self-seeker, gambler, as he owned himself to have been, with her life, +if such a price should be asked. + +"Are they sisters?" asked the thoughtless, misled by their golden hair, +when the two beautiful girls went out together, leaving Mme. Violet +behind. But a student of faces would never have fallen into such an +error. One placid and aloof, even toward the audiences whose favor she +courted, the other impulsive and approachable, throwing out tentacles of +sympathy toward every human being with whom she came in contact, they +supplemented rather than reflected each other; otherwise they would +hardly have been drawn together so strongly, and made such a concord of +friendliness. + +Several surprises awaited Emily when she reached home. The first and +pleasantest was an envelope, surcharged in the upper left-hand corner +with the name of a certain magazine. This she opened with trembling +fingers, for it was not quite three weeks since she mailed to the +editor, unsigned, Robert's article on, "Proposals for a Consumers' +Trust," that fruit of his prison reflections which Dr. Silsby had found +so unpalatable. When an oblong slip of paper, perforated at the margin, +slipped out, she knew it was a check; and the editor's letter was very +urgent that "so striking a contribution should not be given to the world +without its author's signature." Here was the beginning of a career for +her sweetheart. She looked forward to the time when his qualities and +talents should be recognized, and she herself perhaps be pointed out as +the wife of Floyd, the famous writer, or thinker, or worker, or +whatsoever other name they chose to give to the best, the truest and the +most abused of men. The check, too, was of comforting value, and, since +she was a shrewd little housekeeper withal, this discovery did not abate +one particle of Emily's joy. + +And yet, so little was she a lover of lucre for its own sake, the very +first item on which her eye lighted in the evening paper, though it +meant a money loss which the whole cash box of the Forum, converted into +checks, could not make good, evoked almost a scream of delight from +Emily and sent her flying into the kitchen where her mother was steeping +the tea. The good lady wiped her honest hands on her apron and with a +"Do tell!" fingered the Evening Beacon, which to-day is skimmed and +tomorrow cast into the oven, as respectfully as if it had been a fancy +valentine; then read, with Jennie, a slip of 14, on tiptoe leaning over +her shoulder, that Judge Dunder had finally decided to uphold the late +Prof. Arnold's will. Even Shagarach had hardly expected this decision. +For Judge Dunder was a confirmed devotee of legal technique and it had +been supposed that nothing less than a verbatim copy of a destroyed will +would be sustained by him. + +But the main clauses of the will had certainly been reproduced, with an +abundance of circumstantial detail. The only hiatus was a remote +possibility. There may have been some smaller bequests that could not be +traced. Apparently Judge Dunder had in this case resolved to wink a +little at chicane and decide for justice in the broader sense. + +"Harry Arnold may have to do something to justify his existence now," +said Mrs. Barlow after supper to Emily. She had a prejudice against wild +young men. + +"Oh, Rosalie has enough for two," answered Emily, who was standing +before the mirror putting her hat on for a visit to Walter Riley. + +The first sight that met her eye when she reached the sidewalk was a +squad of salvation army soldiers, with Serena Lamb at their head, +parading through the street, chanting their invitation to sinners. +Serena held her tambourine high in air and her shrill voice dominated +the chorus like that of a precentor in the kirk. But the exercise seemed +to lack its usual spirit this evening. Was it because nobody took any +particular notice of the group? Curiosity about them was wearying itself +threadbare, and even the toddling urchins no longer gathered at the +drumbeat as they used to. Emily had often admired the devotion of these +sisters, but, looking at this unnoticed and discouraged band, she +wondered if the antagonism of the multitude were not in truth the very +sustenance of their zeal. Might not all their heroic energy exhaust +itself, like the nerve of a boxer, compelled to waste his blows in the +air, if the atmosphere of opposition should change to one of apathy? + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +A STERN CHASE. + + +"At any cost!" The last words of his master tingled in Saul Aronson's +ears when he left the court-room with the summons in his hand. Ever +since the disclosures of Serena Lamb he had been more than usually +abashed in his demeanor. For in some measure he felt that it was he who +had brought this threatened catastrophe upon their cause. Here was the +opportunity to retrieve his misstep. He would prove his fidelity and +serve the writ "at any cost." + +Mrs. Arnold had secured a few minutes' start, but Aronson did not doubt +his ability to overtake her. She would probably call a cab, since she +was an all-day attendant at the sittings and it was unlikely her family +carriage would be waiting for her. Impatiently he rang the elevator up, +and then, deciding just as it arrived that it was quicker to walk down, +balked the boy by tacking off toward the staircase and descending it two +steps at a time. When he reached the exit, the square was deserted. But +just around the corner, like the whisk of a vanishing tail, he caught a +glimpse of a rapidly driven cab. After this he sped, down the crowded +main thoroughfare, dodging the pedestrians as well as he could, with his +eyes on the distant vehicle, and yawing wildly at last into the arms of +a man who stood waiting on the curbstone. + +"Where in the----" but the man was a herdic driver and his language may +as well be left to the imagination. Aronson saw the badge on his hat; +that was enough. + +"Catch that carriage," he said, "and I'll give you $2." + +"Jump in," cried the driver. The door was locked in a jiffy and +presently they were bumping over the cobblestones. + +"Stop there!" shouted the burly policeman who used to escort Emily so +gallantly over the street crossing. + +"It's a runaway!" cried the herdic driver, giving himself the lie by a +savage snap of his whip. The officer was in no trim for a spurt, so he +fell behind puffing. Still they bumped on, till Aronson's anxiety +mastered him and he rapped at the window for attention. The driver +stupidly reined up. + +"Go on!" cried the passenger, and the whip-lash circled once more with a +crack. They were out on the long bridge to Oxford now, and the fugitive +could not be far ahead. + +"Hello!" shouted the driver. The jehu in front turned his head. + +"Haul up!" he hailed. + +The driver in front obeyed and the two herdics were soon abreast, +Aronson getting a dusty toss in his impatience to get out. As he picked +himself up, a great fat man put his head out of the other herdic window +and began to ask the cause of the detention. + +"Is Mrs. Arnold in there?" inquired Aronson, putting his head into the +herdic, just by the fat passenger's. + +"Mrs. Arnold? What Mrs. Arnold? Take your head out, you impudent,--drive +away, you----" cried the fat passenger, settling back on the cushions +which he almost filled with the breadth of his back. Aronson was left +standing alone on the road, puzzling his wits what to do. + +"You lost the right carriage," he said. + +"I followed the one you pointed out," answered the driver, surlily. + +"Well, take me back." + +"Where's my $2?" asked No. 99, and Aronson had to pay him this sum, as +well as an advance fare for the ride back, before he would turn his +horse's head. Going in town, the animal made up for time gained by a +heartbreaking leisureliness of pace. No one could blame the poor hack +horse. There had been some attempt to make him look respectable by +docking his tail, but it was no more successful than a silk hat on a +prize-fighter, designed to foster the same illusion. + +It was just 5:40 when Aronson reached the Northern depot and the train +for Hillsborough had left at 5:38. He had the misery of knowing that +Mrs. Arnold was probably well on her way to her summer residence by this +time, and that there was no train earlier than 7 o'clock. In the interim +he bought a ticket, supped, reflected, counted his money and studied the +subpoena. + +A village bell was tolling 8 when Aronson stepped from the passenger car +out on the platform of the Hillsborough station. They had left the +sunset behind them in their eastward ride and the country village was +dark. + +"I want a carriage to Mrs. Arnold's house," he said to the +station-master. + +"Hacks are all in now," answered the official behind the grating, +turning to his books. But he underrated the persistency of his customer. + +"I'll give you $1.50 for a team," said Aronson. The suggestion worked +magically and in less than an hour he was let down before the veranda of +the Arnold mansion. A ruby porch-light flooded him with a kind of +delighted confusion. How mild and solemn the country is at night! How +suggestive of grassy comforts the humming of the crickets! All the +shepherd that lay deep down in Aronson's nature, as in that of every one +of us, even the plainest, had time to show itself in the interval +between his ring and the servant's answer. + +"Mrs. Arnold is in Woodlawn," answered the housemaid. "Can you leave +your business?" + +"No, I want to see her personally." + +Woodlawn! She had escaped him then. The teamster was waiting and the +servant diminishing the aperture of the door to a suspicious crack, +while he collected his thoughts. + +"How long has she been in Woodlawn?" he asked. + +"She just moved in yesterday morning," replied the servant, closing the +door with a slam. + +"Take me back in time for the next train," said Aronson to the driver. + +"Too late for the next train," came the drawling answer. "Next train is +at 9:15 and it's most 9 now." + +"When is the last train?" asked Aronson, figuring on a midnight visit to +Woodlawn. + +"That's the last train to-night." + +Here was a wild-goose chase indeed, but Aronson had a keen suspicion +that it was the goose who was the chaser. + +"What is the first train in the morning?" + +"At 6:15 a. m.," answered the rustic, who usually knows his local +time-table better than his prayers. + +"Can I lodge here for the night?" + +"Dunno. Sam Cook might put you up. He used to keep an inn. Maybe he can +find a spare bed for you under the roof somewheres." + +"Drive me to Sam Cook's," said Aronson. All the nocturnal interest of +the countryside had vanished from him now, and it was with no kindly +feeling toward Hillsborough that he stretched his limbs in the old +boniface's spare bed, laying the subpoena under his pillow and muttering +a petition to Jehovah that he might not oversleep himself and lose the +6:15 a. m. But the real danger proved to be that he would get no sleep +at all. For at midnight he was still tossing. + +A cow-bell, furiously jingled, awoke him at sunrise, and he was in the +city at 7:15, on schedule time. + +"To Woodlawn," a sign on one of the tracks read. But the hands of the +mock clock pointed to 7:45 and there was another half-hour of waiting. +All the world was out of bed, for the steeple bell had just tolled 8 +when he arrived in Woodlawn and inquired his way to the Arnolds'. + +"Just moved back!" thought Aronson. "I should say so." + +Mats were hanging out of windows, servants were mopping panes, a hostler +was hosing a muddy carriage in the stable; everything showed that a +general scrubbing process had begun. To his surprise and pleasure, he +recognized the housemaid who answered his ring as Bertha Lund. She was +dressed in her smartest pink, for this was the day of her testimony. + +"I want to see Mrs. Arnold," said Aronson, blurting out his message like +a schoolboy. + +"Mrs. Arnold? Well, you've come too late," answered Bertha. + +"Isn't she here?" + +"Here! She's on her way to Europe by this time." + +"To Europe!" + +Saul Aronson's jaw dropped and the subpoena began to burn a hole in his +pocket. Was this a subterfuge? He would be on the alert. + +"When did she start?" + +"Why, this morning. You must have passed her coming out." + +Passed her coming out! It was like chasing his own shadow, this constant +missing of the game he hunted. + +"But wha--wha--what made her go to Europe?" stammered Aronson. He +remembered hearing Shagarach say one day that flight was confession. Was +Mrs. Arnold involved in her son's guilt? Then all the more reason for +waylaying her before she gave them the slip. + +"Can't a lady go abroad if she chooses? Mrs. Arnold goes abroad every +summer." + +"But Harry----" + +"Yes, we're cleaning things up for Harry. They'll live here after +they're married, you know, Harry and Miss March." + +"But he was arrested!" + +"Arrested!" + +Bertha had left the court early on the previous day and did not read the +papers. + +"Didn't his mother know Harry was arrested?" + +"Arrested! Harry? What for?" + +"For setting his uncle's house on fire," answered Aronson, who as a +loyal partisan was one shade more thorough in his conviction of Harry's +guilt than Shagarach himself. + +"Setting his uncle's house on fire! Nonsense!" + +"What boat did she take?" asked Aronson, breaking in upon Bertha's +astonishment with a gesture of impatience. + +"The Venetia, of the Red Star line." + +"And it starts so early in the morning?" + +"Yes; somewhere between 8 and 9." + +Aronson looked at his watch. It was just 8:15. If he could catch a train +back, he might be in town at a little after half-past. And then--a +delay! These great steamers are often delayed! + +"Toot! Toot! Toot!" came the warning whistle of an engine, and Aronson +was dashing down the path, never stopping to pick up his hat that was +lifted off by the wind, bent only on beating his steam-propelled rival +to the station. It took him the whole journey townward to recover the +wind he had lost in that unwonted quarter-mile run. People laughed at +his hatless head, but he did not heed them. Besides, if he had been a +philosopher, he might have retorted that hats on a dog-day are simply +one of the nuisances of civilized conventionality. So he took a wharf +car and in less than half an hour was running out to the edge of the +great Red Star quay, there to behold the Venetia proudly backing into +the channel on the flood of the tide and turning her head oceanward. I +regret to say this spectacle filled Aronson with violent wrath, and the +wharf loungers must have taken him for a wild man as he smote his fists +together and danced about. + +"Missed your boat?" inquired casually a sea-beaten man, but Aronson was +too irate to appreciate his well-meant sympathy. He only ran to the edge +of the wharf and looked off, shading his eyes from the glare of the +water. + +Presently he found the man at his elbow again. + +"I can catch her for you if it's anything important," said the tar. + +"I'll give you--I'll give you--" and then he checked himself, appalled +at his own rashness. "How much will you charge?" he asked. + +"Well, the Venetians steaming for a record this trip." + +"How much?" + +"She's got a start of a mile, and going twenty knots." + +"How much?" + +"There were some picnic folks I expected down here to charter my tug. +Don't see them, but they may drop in. I suppose you'll allow something +for the disappointment if they come." + +"How much?" persisted Aronson, but the Venetia had just disappeared +behind an island and the thought of returning empty-handed to Shagarach +acted like a rowel in his flank. "I'll give you $50," he cried, +suddenly. + +"Done," said the Yankee, wringing his hand, and then Aronson knew that +he ought to have offered $25. But it was no time for haggling. "At any +cost," he repeated to himself. The mariner hurried him in and out among +the wharves, till they came upon a battered but resolute-looking +tugboat, on which two or three deck-hands were lounging. + +"Get steam up, Si," cried the skipper, and after a delay which seemed an +hour to Aronson the water began to be churned to foam before her bow and +the little craft had started on its long chase. + +Past the islands of the harbor, past the slow merchant schooners, past +the white-sailed careening pleasure sloops, past the harbor police boat, +past the revenue cutter, past the excursion steamers to local beaches, +past the crowded Yarmouth, they flew, cheered on by the passengers--for +everybody soon saw it was a race. + +Aronson was studying the wide beam of the Venetia in front. How slowly +they were gaining! They were out beyond the farthest island in the +harbor, the lighthouse shoal that is covered at high tide, and still the +Red Star liner bore away from them with half a mile of clear water +between. + +"Cheer up, shipmate," cried Perkins; "she's gettin' bigger and bigger. +Heap the coals on down there, Si." + +The Venetia must have sighted her pursuer long ago, and indeed the faces +of her passengers on the bow were becoming more and more visible every +moment. But this was a record trip, and it would be beneath her dignity +to slow up for every petty rowboat that hailed her. So her engines +continued to pump and she clove the glorious waters swiftly. + +"Ahoy!" shouted Capt. Perkins. + +"Ahoy yourself!" came the answer. Aronson thought he saw a woman's face +that he knew on the deck. + +"Heave to! A boarder!" + +"Tell him to get out of bed in time," came the ungracious reply. +Evidently the Venetia's third mate was under orders not to stop for any +belated passenger. + +"What's your errand?" asked the skipper, a little puzzled, of Aronson. + +"I have a subpoena from the court," cried Aronson, all agog. + +"Oh, you're a court officer." + +Then he rounded his hands and holloaed up: + +"A court officer aboard!" + +Court officer! This made an impression. The third mate withdrew from the +gunwale and presently reappeared with the captain. + +"Lash her to!" cried the captain. The tug-boat hugged her great sister +and a ladder was let down, upon which Aronson mounted. With the white +paper in his hand he looked decidedly formidable. + +"I have a subpoena for Mrs. Alice Arnold, one of your passengers. She is +wanted as a witness in a murder trial. There she is," he added, for Mrs. +Arnold stood in front of the crowd that had rolled like a barrel of +ballast toward the center of interest. The captain was nonplused. He was +not familiar enough with law terms to know the limits of a subpoena's +authority. But he felt that he was to some extent the protector of his +passengers. + +"I don't understand this," he said, turning to Mrs. Arnold. + +"It is a great annoyance to me if I must go on so trifling a matter," +she said. She was pale and her manner was haughty. To Aronson it was +something more. It bore every indication of conscious guilt. He had not +foreseen resistance. The document, with Shagarach's name appended, he +had thought would open caverns and cause walls to fall. + +"There is the lady. She prefers not to go. I presume you will have to +compel her. But I don't see that I can permit violence on board my +ship." + +The passengers seemed to gloat on Saul Aronson's discomfiture, and +Shagarach's faithful courier was almost beside himself. In the distance +lay the city, crowned with its gold dome, dwindling from sight. The +lonely ocean roared around him. Capt. Perkins' tiny tug still hugged the +larboard of her giant sister. + +"It appears to me that paper's no good," said the second mate suddenly. +He happened to be a little of a lawyer. "Let's have a look." + +Aronson reluctantly saw the summons leave his hand. + +"Suffolk county. This ain't Suffolk county," cried the mate, while the +ring of passengers laughed. + +"Shinny on your own side, youngster," he added, returning the paper. + +"But it's America," cried Aronson. + +"Just passed the three-mile limit," said the captain. He was an +Englishman, the mate was an Englishman. They had no particular love for +anything American, except the output of our national mints. + +"I'm afraid the captain's right, young man," said a kind, elderly +gentleman, who might be a lawyer recruiting his health by an ocean trip +before the fall term opened. "You've got beyond your jurisdiction." + +Mrs. Arnold had gone below and the hatless invader reluctantly abandoned +his prize. On the homeward voyage he gave way to exhaustion and fell +into several naps of forty winks' duration, during the last of which a +grotesque dream troubled his peace. He found himself chasing Serena Lamb +around an enormous bass drum, as big as the Heidelberg tun, on the +stretched skin of which the oaf, the manikin and the pantaloon were +dancing a fandango. Still he chased Serena and still she escaped him, +the toes of the dancers pounding a heavy tattoo. Faster and faster +pursuer and pursued whirled around the side of the drum, till Aronson's +head swam like a kitten's in hot pursuit of his own tail. At last in his +despair he hurled the subpoena at Serena's head. + +The three dancers disappeared with a bursting sound into the hollow of +the drum, and he awoke to find the tugboat just bumping its side against +the dock. The sea had smoothed down to a lack-luster glaze, but it was +less dreary than the heart of the baffled pursuer. + +"We may as well cancel that little debit item now," said Skipper +Perkins, flinging a coil of rope ashore. + +"At any cost," repeated Aronson sorely to himself. He had done his best, +but Mrs. Arnold was out of sight of land--a fugitive from justice. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +THE MIRACLE. + + +It was after two o'clock when, breathless, spiritless, and penniless, +Saul Aronson arrived at the court-room again. The examination of Bertha +was nearly ended. + +"Will you take these spectacles, Miss Lund?" said Shagarach, handing +Bertha a pair. They looked like the "horns" that used to straddle our +grandfathers' noses, being uncommonly large, circular in shape and +fitted with curved wires to pass over the ears. + +"Do they bear any resemblance to Prof. Arnold's?" + +"I thought they were his at first." + +"Let us suppose they are. Will you kindly leave the stand and adjust +them on this desk near the window exactly as the professor's spectacles +lay on his desk that afternoon?" + +Bertha took the spectacles without hesitation, walked over to the +crier's desk and placed them on its edge, with their wires toward the +window. Then she laid a book under the wires. This made the glasses tip +a little downward. The sun was shining in fiercely. + +"I believe there was a waste basket in the study?" continued Shagarach. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Like this one?" He held up an uncommonly capacious basket, over two +feet high. + +"The very same kind." + +"And as full as this is?" + +"Fuller. It was just bursting with papers." + +"What kind of paper?" + +"Black wrapping paper that comes off the professor's books." + +"Something like this?" + +"Just like that." + +The paper in Shagarach's wicker basket was not black, exactly, but of a +deep shade which could hardly be described by the name of any known +color. + +"Why are you wearing a white dress, Miss Lund?" + +Bertha blushed a little. + +"Because light colors are cooler." + +"Coolness is a strong recommendation on a day like this. Do you remember +whether the Saturday of the fire was as warm?" + +"It was very hot, I know." + +"The hottest day of a hot June, was it not?" + +"Well, I couldn't answer that. The thermometer goes up and down like a +jumping-jack here." + +"You had pulled up the study curtains so as to let in the sunlight, I +believe?" + +"Yes, sir. That was for the poor canary. And, besides, the professor +used to say the sunlight was good--good for plants and animals and +everything that has life in it." + +"The sun, then, was shining down on the desk where the spectacles lay?" + +"Just as you see it here, sir." + +She pointed to the desk, by which she was still standing. + +"You know, from your own experience in dresses, that dark colors absorb +more heat than light ones?" + +"Sir?" + +"Light dresses are cooler than dark ones?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Brown paper burns more quickly than white?" + +"Oh, yes. You can kindle a fire with brown paper better." + +"Will you take the waste-basket and place it on the floor just as far +from those spectacles as the waste-basket in the study stood, and in the +same direction." + +Bertha measured off a short distance with her eye, picked up the basket, +shifted it once or twice, and finally set it down with a satisfied air. + +"There!" + +"It stood just behind the desk, then?" + +"What is the drift of all this?" interrupted the district attorney, his +deep voice falling on a breathless silence. A presentiment had spread +from one to another that the solution was at hand. + +"We are reproducing the exact condition of the study at the time the +fire occurred. These spectacles, containing powerful cataract lenses, +are made from the same prescription as Prof. Arnold's, by his optician, +Mr. Dean. The large basket, a mild eccentricity of the professor's, and +the black paper, are also duplicates." + +"What do you hope to prove?" asked Chief Justice Playfair. His answer +was a shrill cry, like a bird note, from Emily, who had never withdrawn +her eye from the waste basket. + +"It's catching!" + +Every eye in the court-room turned. Those who sat near enough beheld two +tiny holes, like worm holes, suddenly pierced in the black paper, where +the rays of light converged through the tilted lenses. Each had a crisp, +brown margin around it. Gradually they widened and spread, as though +instinct with life, one working faster than the other. Then suddenly a +little circle of flame curled out, and before the onlookers realized the +miracle in progress, the waste basket was throwing up red tongues of +fire and sighing softly. If it were not for Sire's furious barking the +railing of the bar might have caught. As it was, its varnish had begun +to crackle before the nearest court officer recovered his presence of +mind and threw the blazing basket out of the window. + +Gazing at Shagarach the spectators waited breathlessly for an +elucidation. Before speaking he walked over and shook hands warmly with +Emily. When he turned at last, his words came forth like a whirlwind. + +"I think nothing more is needed to convince us of the source from which +this fire originated. We have reproduced every circumstance of its +occurrence in order to provide you with ocular demonstration. The sun +supplying extraordinary heat, the burning glass duplicated by an expert +and placed in position by a trustworthy witness, the focal distance +estimated by her, the highly combustible fuel, identical in color and +substance--can you not turn back in imagination and see happening in +that deserted study all that has happened here? Can you not follow it on +to the destruction of the mantel fringe just above, the awaking of the +sleepy dog, the mad leap of the flames from wall to wall, and at last +that whole irresistible carnival of the elements? It was no human torch, +but the hot gaze of the sun, condensed through these powerful lenses, +which lit that funeral pyre and dug graves for seven human beings. Fate, +working out its processes in that lonely room, was the mysterious +incendiary toward whom we have all been blindly groping." + +As Shagarach pointed upward in his awful close, the audience, on the +very brink of an outburst, held back their enthusiasm for an instant. +But the chief justice was seen to bow his head, and at once the +excitement broke all barriers. A loud spontaneous cheer, rendered half +articulate by cries of "Shagarach, Shagarach!" scattered to the winds +the customary restraints of the surroundings. Women embraced each other; +strangers shook hands warmly; Emily Barlow rushed over and hugged +Rosalie March, and drops were glistening on Chief Justice Playfair's +eyelashes when he lifted his head. McCausland, standing agape on the +threshold of his ante-room, completed the happy picture. + +By a natural reaction the outburst was succeeded by a spell of tense +repression, amid which the district attorney rose and moved the +withdrawal of the case against Robert Floyd. The foreman of the jury +announced that he and his associates had long been agreed upon the +innocence of the accused, and Chief Justice Playfair, dignified as an +archbishop blessing his flock, expressed in his golden idiom the common +feeling of thankfulness that the trial had so felicitous a termination. + +And so the logic of Richard McCausland and the psychology of Meyer +Shagarach were both overmatched by the intuitions of a loyal girl--a +girl who knew something about lenses because she dealt with cameras, and +who brought to the problem a concentration of thought as powerful as +that of the sunlight on the professor's spectacles. Both the lawyer and +the detective came forward promptly to pay her their homage; and the +last she saw of McCausland he was focusing one of the lenses on the end +of his cigar, readily obtaining the desired red light. + +But Emily was not holding court even for them while there was still a +stroke of work to be done. Her second thought was of Harry in his cell. +With admirable modesty avoiding Robert's kiss, she took him and Rosalie +by the hand and made them friends at once. Then, leaving Beulah Ware to +chat with Brother Tristram, the trio sped over to the jail. At the +court-house door they met Dr. Silsby, who came flying along, florid and +out of breath, mopping his face with a napkin which he had probably +mistaken in his hurry for a handkerchief. + +"Is it over?" he cried. + +"Over? We're acquitted," cried Emily, using a reckless plural. "What +makes you so late?" + +"Stopped to nib a quill after lunch," grumbled the director of the +Arnold Academie, as he gave Robert a pump-handle squeeze. + +It was a changed Harry that stepped out of the cell in murderers' row. +In the confidence of the preceding night the two cousins had grown +closer together than ever before. After all, as Harry had said on the +stand, they were both Arnolds and the sole survivors of that eccentric +blood. + +But a stronger bond was soon to rivet them together in the waxing amity +of the two girls, one of whom was dearer than kin to each of the +cousins. Rosalie's exclusiveness and the wealth she continued to enjoy +with an equanimity he could not understand at first prevented Robert +from doing full justice to her. But on acquaintance she proved as merry +(among her chosen few) as any lassie, and a certain child-like +innocence, all the more singular from her association with the stage, +made a charming foil to the ripe womanly beauty of her person. + +Moreover, as the months roll by, and Robert learns more and more what +men and women really are, he lowers his standards gradually as to what +may be expected of them. Not that he has given up his ideals. Far from +it! He is still a socialist; and, what is better, a sower of good seed +in action, placing goodly portions of his income here and there, with +something of his uncle's bow-wow manner, to be sure, as though it were +no personal pity tugging at his heart-strings, but only an abstract +desire to see things ship-shape in the world, an impatience at disorder. +But this affected matter-of-factness doesn't suffice to shake off the +blessings of his pensioners. + +If he chooses to set all orthodoxy by the ears with that series of +fire-brand polemics which, as readers remember, succeeded the "Modest +Proposal for a Consumers' Trust," so that one old granny among his +opponents has already christened him "the Legicide," what do Mrs. Lacy +and Mrs. Riley know or care? I fancy most of us, if we were burdened +with a maniac son or blessed with the love of a dutiful boy like +Walter, would accept assistance for their sakes, and ask no questions of +the giver. + +Mrs. Arnold is too old now ever to forget that her maiden name was Alice +Brewster. It was the fear of staining that name with the published +details of a petty intrigue that caused her to sail for Europe so +suddenly. For it was she, conscious of her own financial straits, and +anxious for Harry if his inheritance should be cut off, who had +conducted the correspondence with Ellen Greeley. In this there was +nothing criminal; but much to wound her pride. So she had fled from the +ordeal of testifying before Shagarach, and the disclosures which she +foresaw were inevitable. + +Her embarrassments have since been tided over and the family fortune +saved, at least from total shipwreck. The match with Rosalie March +guarantees to Harry the gratification of all his tastes; and, as the +young couple are coming to Woodlawn to live, the sting of separation is +softened. Ah, the fond jealous mothers who must forget their own +honeymoons to chide the child that only obeys divine injunctions in +cleaving to another when the time is ripe! + +Of Emily Barlow what more can be said? Praise is superfluous; intrusion +on her betrothal joys, soon to merge into marriage happiness, deeper if +less unmixed with care, an impertinence. + +Of late the whole world seems conspiring to bless her. Only the other +day Tristram March won the sculpture prize at the academy with his +life-size group "Driftwood Pickers at the Sea Level." The critics have +gone mad over the boldness of his conception--one figure erect and +peering far off, two stooping and adding to their fagot bundles. The +whole ocean is there in that fretted line of surf--a bare suggestion. +One interpreter has gone so far as to see in the figures a type of +humanity itself, on the margin of some mysterious beneficent element +which surrounds it. But the salient fact to Emily is that Tristram won +the prize, and is striving might and main for another more precious--the +hand of the dark, collected girl who gave him both subject and +inspiration during their memorable week at Digby. + +And Shagarach--the iron will, the giant mind--what is his destiny? To be +always a criminal lawyer, a consorter with publicans and sinners? +Always, we may be sure, to protect the innocent, to whatever sphere the +buoyancy of his genius may lift him; and whether he wear ultimately the +ermine or the laurel wreath he will never forget one cause, which +brought him, with much added celebrity and some unhappiness, the +friendship of three couples so rare and fine--that great search for the +Incendiary which is registered (not without pique) in Inspector +McCausland's private docket as "The Eye-Glass Fiasco." + +THE END. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Note: Hyphen variations left as printed. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Incendiary, by W. A. 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