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Mr. Slocum, who had partly risen from the chair, sank back intohis seat. "Good God!" he said, turning very pale. "Are you mad?"
Mr. Taggett realized the cruel shock which the pronouncing of thatname must have caused Mr. Slocum. Mr. Taggett had meditated his lineof action, and had decided that the most merciful course wasbrusquely to charge young Shackford with the crime, and allow Mr.Slocum to sustain himself for a while with the indignant disbeliefwhich would be natural to him, situated as he was. He would then in amanner be prepared for the revelations which, if suddenly presented,would crush him.
If Mr. Taggett was without imagination, as he claimed, he was notwithout a certain feminine quickness of sympathy often found inpersons engaged in professions calculated to blunt the finersensibilities. In his intercourse with Mr. Slocum at the Shackfordhouse, Mr. Taggett had been won by the singular gentleness andsimplicity of the man, and was touched by his misfortune.
After his exclamation, Mr. Slocum did not speak for a moment ortwo, but with his elbows resting on the edge of the desk satmotionless, like a person stunned. Then he slowly lifted his face, towhich the color had returned, and making a movement with his righthand as if he were sweeping away cobwebs in front of him rose fromthe chair.
"You are simply mad," he said, looking Mr. Taggett squarely andcalmly in the eyes. "Are you aware of Mr. Richard Shackford'scharacter and his position here?"
"Precisely."
"Do you know that he is to marry my daughter?"
"I am very sorry for you, sir."
"You may spare me that. It is quite unnecessary. You have falleninto some horrible delusion. I hope you will be able to explain it."
"I am prepared to do so, sir."
"Are you serious?"
"Very serious, Mr. Slocum."
"You actually imagine that Richard Shackford--Pshaw! It's simplyimpossible!"
"I am too young a man to wish even to seem wiser than you, but myexperience has taught me that nothing is impossible."
"I begin to believe so myself. I suppose you have grounds, orsomething you consider grounds, for your monstrous suspicion. Whatare they? I demand to be fully informed of what you have been doingin the yard, before you bring disgrace upon me and my family byinconsiderately acting on some wild theory which perhaps ten wordscan refute."
"I should be in the highest degree criminal, Mr. Slocum, if I wereto make so fearful an accusation against any man unless I had themost incontestable evidence in my hands."
Mr. Taggett spoke with such cold-blooded conviction that a chillcrept over Mr. Slocum, in spite of him.
"What is the nature of this evidence?"
"Up to the present stage, purely circumstantial."
"I can imagine that," said Mr. Slocum, with a slight smile.
"But so conclusive as to require no collateral evidence. Thetestimony of an eye-witness of the crime could scarcely add to myknowledge of what occurred that Tuesday night in Lemuel Shackford'shouse."
"Indeed, it is all so clear! But of course a few eye-witnesseswill turn up eventually," said Mr. Slocum, whose whiteness about thelips discounted the assurance of his sarcasm.
"That is not improbable," returned Mr. Taggett.
"And meanwhile what are the facts?"
"They are not easily stated. I have kept a record of my work dayby day, since the morning I entered the yard. The memoranda arenecessarily confused, the important and the unimportant being jumbledtogether; but the record as it stands will answer your question morefully than I could, even if I had the time--which I have not--to goover the case with you. I can leave these notes in your hands, if youdesire it. When I return from New York"--
"You are going to New York!" exclaimed Mr. Slocum, with a start."When?"
"This evening."
"If you lay a finger on Richard Shackford, you will make themistake of your life, Mr. Taggett!"
"I have other business there. Mr. Shackford will be in Stillwaterto-morrow night. He engaged a state-room on the Fall River boat thismorning."
"How can you know that?"
"Since last Tuesday none of his movements have been unknown tome."
"Do you mean to say that you have set your miserable spies uponhim?" cried Mr. Slocum.
"I should not state the fact in just those words," Mr. Taggettanswered. "The fact remains."
"Pardon me," said Mr. Slocum. "I am not quite myself. Can youwonder at it?"
"I do not wonder."
"Give me those papers you speak of, Mr. Taggett. I would like tolook through them. I see that you are a very obstinate person whenyou have once got a notion into your head. Perhaps I can help you outof your error before it is irreparable." Then, after hesitating asecond, Mr. Slocum added, "I may speak of this to my daughter?Indeed, I could scarcely keep it from her."
"Perhaps it is better she should be informed."
"And Mr. Shackford, when he returns to-morrow?"
"If he broaches the subject of his cousin's death, I advise you toavoid it."
"Why should I?"
"It might save you or Miss Slocum some awkwardness,--but you mustuse your own discretion. As the matter stands it makes no differencewhether Mr. Shackford knows his position to-day or to-morrow. It istoo late for him to avail himself of the knowledge. Otherwise, ofcourse, I should not have given myself away in this fashion."
"Very well," said Mr. Slocum, with an impatient movement of hisshoulders; "neither I nor my daughter will open our lips on thistopic. In the mean while you are to take no further steps withoutadvising me. That is understood?"
"That is perfectly understood," returned Mr. Taggett, drawing anarrow red note-book from the inner pocket of his workman's blouse,and producing at the same time a small nickel-plated door-key. "Thisis the key of Mr. Shackford's private workshop in the extension. Ihave not been able to replace it on the mantel-shelf of hissitting-room in Lime Street. Will you have the kindness to see thatit is done at once?"
A moment later Mr. Slocum stood alone in the office, with Mr.Taggett's diary in his hand. It was one of those costly littlevolumes--gilt-edged and bound in fragrant crushed Levantmorocco--with which city officials are annually supplied by acommunity of grateful taxpayers.
The dark crimson of the flexible covers, as soft and slippery tothe touch as a snake's skin, was perhaps the fitting symbol of thedarker story that lay coiled within. With a gesture of repulsion, asif some such fancy had flitted through his mind, Mr. Slocum tossedthe note-book on the desk in front of him, and stood a few minutesmoodily watching the _reflets_ of the crinkled leather as theafternoon sunshine struck across it. Beneath his amazement andindignation he had been chilled to the bone by Mr. Taggett's brutalconfidence. It was enough to chill one, surely; and in spite ofhimself Mr. Slocum began to feel a certain indefinable dread of thatlittle crimson-bound book.
Whatever it contained, the reading of those pages was to be arepellent task to him; it was a task to which he could not bringhimself at the moment; to-night, in the privacy of his own chamber,he would sift Mr. Taggett's baleful fancies. Thus temporizing, Mr.Slocum dropped the volume into his pocket, locked the office doorbehind him, and wandered down to Dundon's drug-store to kill theintervening hour before supper-time. Dundon's was the aristocraticlounging place of the village,--the place where the only genuineHavana cigars in Stillwater were to be had, and where the favoredfew, the initiated, could get a dash of hochheimer or cognac withtheir soda-water.
At supper, that evening, Mr. Slocum addressed scarcely a word toMargaret, and Margaret was also silent. The days were draggingheavily with her; she was missing Richard. Her own daring travels hadnever extended beyond Boston or Providence; and New York, withRichard in it, seemed drearily far away. Mr. Slocum withdrew to hischamber shortly after nine o'clock, and, lighting the pair of candleson the dressing-table, began his examination of Mr. Taggett'smemoranda.
At midnight the watchman on his lonely beat saw those two candlesstill burning.
The Stillwater Tragedy Page 19
