The Eye of Dread Part 47

"He saw Richard Kildene come to the house when we were all away--while you were with me--your wife with mine,--and your little daughter alone. This Swede heard all that was said, and saw all that was done.

His testimony alone will--"

"Convict a man? It is greed! What is your detective working for and why does this Swede come forward at this late day with his testimony?

Greed! Elder Craigmile, how do you know that this testimony is not all made up between them? I will go home and ask Betty, and learn the truth."

"And why does the young man come here under an a.s.sumed name, and when he is discovered, claim to be my son? The only claim he could make that could save him! If he knows anything, he knows that if he pretends he is my son--laboring under the belief that he has killed Richard Kildene--when he knows Richard's death can be disproved by your daughter's statement that she saw and talked with Richard--he knows that he may be released from the charge of murder and may establish himself here as the man whom he himself threw over the bluff, and who, therefore, can never return to give him the lie. I say--if this is proved on him, he shall suffer the extreme penalty of the law, or there is no justice in the land."

Bertrand rose, sadly shaken. "This is a very terrible accusation, my friend. Let us hope it may not be proved true. I will go home and ask Betty. You will take her testimony before that of the Swede?"

"If you are my friend, why are you willing my son should be proven a murderer? It is a deep-laid scheme, and Richard Kildene walks close in his father's steps. I have always seen his father in him. I tried to save him for my sister's sake. I brought him up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and did for him all that fathers do for their sons, and now I have the fool's reward--the reward of the man who warmed the viper in his bosom. He, to come here and sit in my son's place--to eat bread at my table--at my wife's right hand--with her smile in his eyes? Rather he shall--"

"We will find out the truth, and, if possible, you shall be saved from yourself, Elder Craigmile, and your son will not be proven a murderer.

Let me still be your friend." Bertrand's voice thrilled with suppressed emotion and the sympathy he could not utter, as he held out his hand, which the Elder took in both his own shaking ones. His voice trembled with suppressed emotion as he spoke.

"Pray G.o.d Hester may stay where she is until this thing is over. And pray G.o.d you may not be blinded by love of your daughter, who was not true to my son. She was promised to become his wife, but through all these years she protects by her silence the murderer of her lover.

Ponder on this thought, Bertrand Ballard, and pray G.o.d you may have the strength to be just."

Bertrand walked homeward with bowed head. It was Sat.u.r.day. The day's baking was in progress, and Mary Ballard was just removing a pan of temptingly browned tea cakes from the oven when he entered. She did not see his face as he asked, "Mary, where can I find Betty?"

"Upstairs in the studio, drawing. Where would you expect to find her?"

she said gayly. Something in her husband's voice touched her. She hastily lifted the cakes from the pan and ran after him.

"What is it, dear?"

He was halfway up the stairs and he turned and came back to her. "I've heard something that troubles me, and must see her alone, Mary. I'll talk with you about it later. Don't let us be disturbed until we come down."

"I think Janey is with her now."

"I'll send her down to you."

"Bertrand, it is something terrible! You are trying to spare me--don't do it."

"Ask no questions."

"Tell Janey I want her to help in the kitchen."

Mary went back to her work in silence. If Bertrand wished to be alone with Betty, he had a good reason; and presently Janey skipped in and was set to paring the potatoes for dinner.

Bertrand found Betty bending closely over a drawing for which she had no model, but which was intended to ill.u.s.trate a fairy story. She was using pen and ink, and trying to imitate the fine strokes of a steel engraving. He stood at her side, looking down at her work a moment, and his artist's sense for the instant crowded back other thoughts.

"You ought to have a model, daughter, and you should work in chalk or charcoal for your designing."

"I know, father, but you see I am trying to make some ill.u.s.trations that will look like what are in the magazines. I'm making fairies, father, and you know I can't find any models, so I have to make them up."

"Put that away. I have some questions to ask you."

"What's the matter, daddy? You look as if the sky were falling." He had seated himself on the long lounge where she had once sat and chatted with Peter Junior. She recalled that day. It was when he kissed her for the first time. Her cheeks flushed hotly as they always did now when she thought of it, and her eyes were sad. She went over and established herself at her father's side.

"What is it, daddy, dear?"

"Betty,"--he spoke sternly, as she had never heard him before,--"have you been concealing something from your father and mother--and from the world--for the last three years and a half?"

Her head drooped, the red left her cheeks, and she turned white to the lips. She drew away from her father and clasped her hands in her lap, tightly. She was praying for strength to tell the truth. Ah, could she do it? Could she do it! And perhaps cause Richard's condemnation?

Had they found him?--that father should ask such a question now, after so long a time?

"Why do you ask me such a question, father?"

"Tell me the truth, child."

"Father! I--I--can't," and her voice died away to a whisper.

"You can and you must, Betty."

She rose and stood trembling before him with clinched hands. "What has happened? Tell me. It is not fair to ask me such a question unless you tell me why." Then she dropped upon her knees and hid her face against his sleeve. "If you don't tell me what has happened, I will never speak again. I will be dumb, even if they kill me."

He put his arm tenderly about the trembling little form, and the act brought the tears and he thought her softened. He knew, as Mary had often said, that "Betty could not be driven, but might be led."

"Tell father all about it, little daughter." But she did not open her lips. He waited patiently, then asked again, kindly and persistently, "What have you been hiding, Betty?" but she only sobbed on. "Betty, if you do not tell me now and here, you will be taken into court and made to tell all you know before all the world! You will be proven to have been untrue to the man you were to marry and who loved you, and to have been s.h.i.+elding his murderer."

"Then it is Richard. They have found him?" She shrank away from her father and her sobs ceased. "It has come at last. Father--if--if--I had--been married to Richard--then would they make me go in court and testify against him?"

"No. A wife is not compelled to give testimony against her husband, nor may she testify for him, either."

Betty rose and straightened herself defiantly; with flaming cheeks and flas.h.i.+ng eyes she looked down upon him.

"Then I will tell one great lie--father--and do it even if--if it should drag me down to--h.e.l.l. I will say I am married to Richard--and will swear to it." Bertrand was silent, aghast. "Father! Where is Richard?"

"He is there in Leauvite, in jail. You must do what is right in the eye of G.o.d, my child, and tell the truth."

"If I tell the truth,--they will do what is right in their own eyes.

They don't know what is right in the eye of G.o.d. If they drag me into court--there before all the world I will lie to them until I drop dead. Has--has--the Elder seen him?"

"Not yet. He refused to see him until the trial."

"He is a cruel, vindictive old man. Does he think it will bring Peter back to life again to hang Richard? Does he think it will save his wife from sorrow, or--or bring any one nearer heaven to do it?"

"If Richard has done the thing he is accused of doing, he deserves the extremest rigor of the law."

"Father! Don't let the Elder make you hard like himself. What is he accused of doing?"

"He is making claim that he is Peter Junior, and that he has come back to Leauvite to give himself up for the murder of his cousin, Richard Kildene. He thinks, no doubt, that you will say that you know Richard is living, and that he has not killed him, and in that way he thinks to escape punishment, by proving that Peter also is living, and is himself. Do you see how it is? He has chosen to live here an impostor rather than to live in hiding as an outcast, and is trading on his likeness to his cousin to bear him out. I had hoped that it was all a detective's lie, got up for the purpose of getting hold of the reward money, but now I see it is true--the most astounding thing a man ever tried."

"Did he send you to me?"

"No, child. I have not seen him."

"Father Bertrand Ballard! Have you taken some detective's word and not even tried to see him?"