The Eye of Dread Part 19

"But take care, John. Go further round by the path."

Both boys ran along the bluff until they came to a path that led down to the river. "Do be careful, boys!" called Mary.

"Now, let me see that again, my dear," and Mary untied the handkerchief.

"Yes, it is what I thought. That belonged to Larry Kildene. He got it in India, although he said it was Chinese. He was a year in the British service in India. I've often examined it. I should have known it anywhere. He must have left it with Hester for the boy."

"Poor Larry! And it has come to this. I remember it on Richard's chain when he came out there to meet us in the grove. Bertrand, what shall we do? They must have been here--and have quarreled--and what has happened! I'm going back to ask Betty."

"Ask Betty! My dear! What can Betty know about it?"

"Something upset her terribly yesterday morning. She was ill and with no cause that I could see, and I believe she had had a nervous shock."

"But she seemed all right this morning,--a little pale, but otherwise quite herself." Bertrand turned the little charm over in his hand.

"He thought it was Chinese because it is jade, but this carving is Egyptian. I don't think it is jade, and I don't think it is Chinese."

"But whatever it is, it was on Richard's chain Sat.u.r.day," said Mary, sadly. "And now, what can we do? On second thought I'll say nothing to Betty. If a tragedy has come upon the Craigmiles, it will also fall on her now, and we must spare her all of it we can, until we know."

A call came to them from below, and Bertrand hastily handed the charm back to his wife, and she tied it again in her handkerchief.

"Oh, Bertrand, don't go near that terrible brink. It might give way.

I'm sure this has been an accident."

"But the stick, Mary, and the marks of blood on Peter Junior's hat.

I'm afraid--afraid."

"But they were always fond of each other. They have been like brothers."

"And quarrels between brothers are often the bitterest."

"But we have never heard of their quarreling, and they were so glad to see each other Sat.u.r.day. And you know Peter Junior was always possessed to do whatever Richard planned. They were that way about enlisting, you remember, and everything else. What cause could Richard have against Peter Junior?"

"We can't say it was Richard against Peter. You see the stick was b.l.o.o.d.y, and it was Peter's. We must offer no opinion, no matter what we think, for the world may turn against the wrong one, and only time will tell."

They both were silent as the boys came panting up the bank. "Here's a handkerchief. It was what I saw. It was caught on a thorn bush, and here--here's Peter Junior's little notebook, with his name--"

"This is Peter's handkerchief. P. C. J. Hester Craigmile embroidered those letters." Mary's eyes filled with tears. "Bertrand, we must go to her. She may hear in some terrible way."

"And the book, where was that, John?"

"It was lying on that flat rock. John had to crawl along the ledge on his belly to get it; and here, I found this lead pencil," cried Charlie, excited and important.

"'Faber No. 2.' Yes, this was also Peter's." Bertrand shut it in the notebook. "Mary, this looks sinister. We'd better go down. There's nothing more to learn here."

"Maybe we'll find the young men both safely at home."

"Richard was to leave early this morning."

"I remember."

Sadly they returned, and the two boys walked with them, gravely and earnestly propounding one explanation after another.

"You'd better go back to the house, Mary, and I'll go on to the village with the boys. We'll consult with your father, John; he's a thoughtful man, and--"

"And he's a coroner, too--" said John.

"Yes, but if there's n.o.body found, who's he goin' to sit on?"

"They don't sit on the body, they sit on the jury," said John, with contempt.

"Don't I know that? But they've got to find the body, haven't they, before they can sit on anything? Guess I know that much."

"Now, boys," said Bertrand, "this may turn out to be a very grave matter, and you must keep silent about it. It won't do to get the town all stirred up about it and all manner of rumors afloat. It must be looked into quietly first, by responsible people, and you must keep all your opinions and surmises to yourselves until the truth can be learned."

"Don't walk, Bertrand; take the carryall, and these can be put under the seat. Boys, if you'll go back there in the garden, you'll find some more apples, and I'll fetch you out some cookies to go with them." The boys briskly departed. "I don't want Betty to see them, and we'll be silent until we know what to tell her," Mary added, as they walked slowly up the front path.

Bertrand turned off to the stable, carrying the sad trophies with him, and Mary entered the house. She looked first for Betty, but no Betty was to be found, and the children were at home clamoring for something to eat. They always came home from school ravenously hungry. Mary hastily packed them a basket of fruit and cookies and sent them to play picnic down by the brook. Still no Betty appeared.

"Where is she?" asked Bertrand, as he entered the kitchen after bringing up the carryall.

"I don't know. She may have gone over to Clara Dean's. She spoke of going there to-day. I'm glad--rather."

"Yes, yes."

A little later in the day, almost closing time at the bank, James Walters and Bertrand Ballard entered and asked to see the Elder. They were shown into the director's room, and found him seated alone at the great table in the center. He pushed his papers one side and rose, greeting them with his grave courtesy, as usual.

Mr. Walters, a shy man of few words, looked silently at Mr. Ballard to speak, while the Elder urged them to be seated. "A warm day for the season, and very pleasant to have it so. We'll hope the winter may come late this year."

"Yes, yes. We wish to inquire after your son, Elder Craigmile. Is he at home to-day?"

"Ah, yes. He was not at home--not when I left this noon." The Elder cleared his throat and looked keenly at his friend. "Is it--ahem--a matter of business, Mr. Ballard?"

"Unfortunately, no. We have come to inquire if he--when he was last at home--or if his cousin--has been with you?"

"Not Richard, no. He came unexpectedly and has gone with as little ceremony, but my son was here on the Sabbath--ahem--He dined that day with you, Mr. Ballard?"

"He did--but--Elder, will you come with us? A matter with regard to him and his cousin should be looked into."

"It is not necessary for me to interfere in matters regarding my son any longer. He has taken the ordering of his life in his own hands hereafter. As for Richard, he has long been his own master."

"Elder, I beg you to come with us. We fear foul play of some sort. It is not a question now of family differences of opinion."

The Elder's face remained immovable, and Bertrand reluctantly added, "We fear either your son or his cousin, possibly both of them, have met with disaster--maybe murder."

A pallor crept over the Elder's face, and without a word further he took his hat from a hook in the corner of the room, paused, and then carefully arranged the papers he had pushed aside at their entrance and placing them in his desk, turned the key, still without a word. At the door he waited a moment with his hand on the k.n.o.b, and with the characteristic lift of his brows, asked: "Has anything been said to my wife?"

"No, no. We thought best to do nothing until under your direction."

"Thank you. That's well. Whatever comes, I would spare her all I can."