In Jeopardy Part 20

"So Marcy said."

"Her written statement may shed some light."

"You had better stay to dinner," I suggested, "and go over it with us."

Warriner a.s.sented with such friendly frankness that I felt a little ashamed of my somewhat perfunctory invitation. But perhaps he had not noticed the lack of cordiality in my voice. At any rate, he stayed, and the dinner pa.s.sed off tolerably enough. After dessert I proposed an adjournment to the library for coffee, but Betty objected. "I couldn't sit in that room," she protested earnestly. So we compromised on the big living room on the left of the hall as one enters. I took the packet Betty handed me, and broke the seal. A dozen or more sheets of note-paper, written in pencil, fell out.

"It's a rather difficult handwriting," said Betty, "and I suppose I'm more familiar with it than either of you men." So Warriner and I lit our cigars and prepared to listen.

Chapter XV

_One Corner of the Veil_

The MS. began abruptly, without either preamble or address:

I am sitting here in the library of "Hildebrand Hundred"--the room in which five men have met their death--and while I am waiting I shall set down certain data and figures which should prove of more than ordinary interest to anyone who has the wit to discern their underlying meaning. But judge for yourselves.

The Hildebrands have been at the "Hundred" since the settlement of the province by the Calverts. All of the earlier generations were decent, G.o.d-fearing, hard-drinking country squires who died respectably with their boots off, and are now sleeping quietly in S. Saviour's churchyard; honest gentlemen no doubt, but a little dull after their bucolic kind. Then we come to something different.

But first let us set down the roster of the five who did not pa.s.s away comfortably in their beds. Here it is:

Yardley Hildebrand, elder son of Oliver Hildebrand; succeeded his father, 1860; died, 1861; aged fifty-five; no issue.

Randall Hildebrand, younger son of Oliver; succeeded his brother, 1861; died, 1862; aged fifty-three; left issue.

Horace Hildebrand, elder son of Randall; succeeded his father, 1862; died, 1865; aged thirty-five; no issue.

Richard Hildebrand, younger son of Randall; succeeded his brother, 1865; died, 1918; aged eighty-three; no issue.

Francis Hildebrand Graeme, great-nephew to Richard; succeeded his great-uncle, 1918; died, 1919; aged forty-five; no issue.

Now as we a.n.a.lyze these dates and periods we come upon some curious coincidences; and also, upon some marked discrepancies. For example, Yardley Hildebrand reigned for one brief year, and the same is true of Randall Hildebrand and of Francis Graeme. But Horace enjoyed three full years of sovereignty, while Richard was Hildebrand of the "Hundred" for no less a period than fifty and three years. Yet all five went to their death along an unfrequented road, and no man can say of a certainty what was the essential d.a.m.nation of their taking-off. They died, and they died alone--here in this very room where I sit waiting, waiting.

I dare say that you, Hugh Hildebrand, will read what I have written here, and I have now a word for your ear alone. Not long ago John Thaneford gave you your choice--Betty or the "Hundred." You could not have both.

Well, you possess your wife; take her and go in peace; stay, and you do so at your unending peril. I leave you this warning merely to clear the ground for the a.s.sertion of John Thaneford's rights in the estate; they will be defended, and all the odds are against you. So I warn you, but it would be idle for me to pretend to any philanthropic motive, and there is but small show of friends.h.i.+p between us. You have treated me with courtesy, even with kindness, and I am not unmindful of the obligation imposed upon me. But I must be perfectly frank: you are in the way; either you go of your own volition, or you will be removed--at the appointed time. It may be in one year, or in three years, or in three and fifty years; upon that point I cannot speak definitely. But there was only one man out of the five who drew a long straw--remember that.

Neither have I any cause of quarrel with you, Cousin Betty Graeme.

You have been very good to a poor and proud relation; and what little measure of human affections I had left over--after John Thaneford had turned me inside out, like an old glove, and flung me on the dust heap--was truly given to you. Believe me, then, when I tell you that if your happiness is bound up with the life of your husband, there is but one way of preserving it; you must persuade him to relinquish "Hildebrand Hundred," and be content with the ready money and the personal property specifically bequeathed in Francis Graeme's will. I dare say you will have difficulty in bringing this about; men are so ridiculously stubborn and unwilling to take a woman's advice that I do not expect to see my counsel followed. But when the blow does fall do me the favor to remember that I gave you fair and honorable warning.

This is not a confession. It is true that Cousin Francis Graeme came to his death through violence, but I had no share in it, direct or indirect. Seeing that I am waiting to follow him over the same dark and unfrequented road that he has already traveled, I can speak no more and no less than the truth.

At the same time I have no hesitation in admitting the essential correctness of the deductions offered by Chalmers Warriner as to my share in what happened posterior to the event. I was on the library terrace that Tuesday noon, and I did receive a message from Sugar Loaf that the way was clear for me to enter the library and secure the will which disinherited John Thaneford. I don't like dead men, but I am not afraid of them, and I should have examined the despatch-box on the spot had I not been disturbed by the knocking at the door--I mean the effort of the negro peddler, Dave Campion, to gain access to Mr. Graeme. Then it occurred to me that as I should have to leave by the postern-door, as I had entered, it might prove useful in the future to cover my trail. Accordingly, I s.n.a.t.c.hed, at random, a coc.o.o.n from the case, dabbed it with library gum, and stuck it in place over the crack, just as Mr. Warriner was clever enough to figure out.

But I had run the risk to no purpose; the new will was not in the despatch-box, and John Thaneford would be disinherited after all.

Then I reflected that it was a bare possibility that Cousin Francis had postponed the making of the new will; in this case the earlier testament would remain in force. Obviously, I must get the despatch-box containing it back in the library before any formal examination should be made of the surroundings. My chance came unexpectedly when Effingham was left on guard at the library door.

As you already know, I sent him upstairs on an errand, having first secured from him the master-key. I re-entered the library, put the box back in its original position, and was standing quietly at the door when Betty and Doctor Marcy arrived.

While it is true that the signal came to me from John Thaneford it is not necessary to jump to the conclusion that he had a hand in bringing about Francis Graeme's death, either as princ.i.p.al or accessory. He did know that it was about to happen, but nothing more; I say this upon my own responsibility, and to the best of my knowledge and belief. You will give me credence in this matter, realizing that I owe little of love to the Thaneford name.

Yet I will try and be just to John Thaneford, for, brute though he be, I do believe that he loved me after his fas.h.i.+on; yes, and would have made me his wife had not his heart been turned against me by his father--may the soul of Fielding Thaneford dwell in darkness for evermore!

Let us premise that the elder Thaneford was jealous of me and of my influence over John. The old man was determined that some day his son should be lord of "Hildebrand Hundred," and if John should marry Betty Graeme his object would be automatically attained. And so Fielding Thaneford did the devil's work, and I was cast out; the very fact that I had given to John Thaneford all that a woman has to give was subtly twisted against me; my very sacrifice was plain proof of my unworthiness to be an honorable man's wife. Do you wonder now that I had no love for Fielding Thaneford. You, Hugh Hildebrand, surprised me one day while I was taking the afternoon relief for Miss Davenport. Before that particular occasion I had been content with inventing purely material means for disturbing the sick man's repose. I used to throw his medicine out of the window, under his very eyes, and then force him to go through the solemn mockery of swallowing doses of plain water. Or, on a warm, damp day, when the flies were particularly troublesome, I would put a saucer containing treacle close by his pillow, and then sit, comfortably fanning myself, on the opposite side of the room.

Horrible! you say, but I tell you that Fielding Thaneford was a devil; I was only antic.i.p.ating by a little s.p.a.ce his doom of eternal torment.

And then, on the particular day of which we were speaking, I discovered how cruelly mere eyes could sting and burn. And so I sat and looked at Fielding Thaneford, and laughed to see him writhe like a beetle impaled upon a pin. But you came in and spoiled my amus.e.m.e.nt.

There isn't much more for me to say or tell, nor am I very sure how much time is left me in which to make my final warning clear.

Whatever was the nature of Fielding Thaneford's secret he has taken it with him to the grave. So far as I know, he said nothing more definite to his son John than that he should possess his soul in patience, and then all things should come to him. But he also intimated plainly that he had foreseen how Yardley, and Randall, and Horace, and Richard Hildebrand should die; and it was at his suggestion that John Thaneford sat that day at the observation point on Sugar Loaf, and waited for death to come to Francis Graeme.

Hypothetically, that death was due to natural causes--hypothetically! Or possibly there was someone who entered that postern-door before I did, and struck a foul blow--possibly!

Or perhaps, John Thaneford, from his safe retreat on Sugar Loaf, may have been able to direct some hitherto unknown form of lethal attack--a tiny sh.e.l.l charged with a poison gas of instantaneous deadliness, or a devouring blast from a flame-thrower of unexampled precision--perhaps!

But, frankly, none of these hypotheses appear to me to be tenable; the mystery does not lie so plainly on the surface. Moreover, I believe that the heart of the Terror continues to beat in this very place, the library of "Hildebrand Hundred," where I am sitting.

Something is in this room, something that is eternally menacing and eternally patient. It may be in one year and it may be in three and fifty years that it chooses to strike, but strike it surely will and no art or cunning will avail to avert the blow. Yes, there is _something_ here, the _something_ for which I myself am waiting.

But search as you will, you shall not find the Terror; you must await its coming as I am doing. Fielding Thaneford has gone to his own place, but his works of darkness remain behind him.

There is just one more thing that I might tell you, but I shall not do it--you would then seek to compromise the situation, and that I will not have. I put my own wits to work and so was able to lift one corner of the veil; that is why I wait so confidently to-day for that which will surely come.

And so I leave you but the one door to safety--the abandonment of the "Hundred" to John Thaneford, the same "Black Jack" Thaneford who once loved me and who finally cast me off. This is the last thing I can do for him--for him whom I both hate and love to the death. Why? Ask any woman----

The MS. had ended as abruptly as it had begun. I took the sheets from Betty's hand, arranged them in order, and put the bundle in my pocket.

"I don't think we had better discuss this any further to-night," I said decisively.

"Quite right," a.s.sented Warriner. "Betty looks pretty white, and you have been traveling for two days. Let me know, at any time, if I can be of service."

We both of us accompanied Warriner to the porch, and saw him drive away.

As we re-entered the hall the closed door of the library shone white and ghostly at the end of the pa.s.sage.

"That horrible room!" panted Betty, her hand tight clutched on my arm.

"I can never, never enter it again."

I tried to soothe her as best I could, but the poor girl's nerves had been badly overstrained, and it was a long time before I could get the upper hand of her hysterical mood. I positively refused to say one more word on the general subject of the tragedy, or the particular contents of Eunice Trevor's _ante mortem_ statement; and, after a while, Betty gave in and was reasonable again. But both of us knew that the question had not been settled, that it was only postponed. And to-morrow it would return again to plague us.

Chapter XVI

_Ad Interim_

I never sent for Warriner to come and discuss Eunice Trevor's astonis.h.i.+ng communication. Why? Well, what would have been the use?

After all, the woman had told us little or nothing which we had not known already; certainly, there was no definite information in her statement upon which to base a working hypothesis. Granted that there was a guilty secret, it lay hidden for all time in S. Saviour's churchyard. Both Eunice Trevor and John Thaneford may have been innocent of any actual partic.i.p.ation in the tragedy of Francis Graeme's death, but it was by no means clear that they could not have taken steps to prevent it. The coroner's jury had given their verdict, the magistrate had found no case against the one suspected person, Dave Campion, and there was really no valid warrant for reopening the inquiry. Besides, this was a purely family affair, and Chalmers Warriner was an outsider.

I dare say it was despicably small-minded of me, but Betty was now my wife, and both she and Warriner ought to realize that the intimacy between them could not be continued on the old free footing. Jealous.

Well perhaps, I was uneasily conscious of an unworthy feeling in the matter. But I was master of "Hildebrand Hundred," and surely I had the right to determine what friends.h.i.+ps were desirable and what were not.