CHAPTER III.
NEMESIS.
"Mr. Brierly, are you strong enough to bear a second shock? I mustconfer with you before--before we remove the body."
It was Doctor Barnes who thus addressed Robert Brierly, who, after thefirst sight of the outstretched figure upon the lake shore, and thefirst shock of horror and anguish, had turned away from the grouphovering about the doctor, as he knelt beside the dead, to face hisgrief alone.
Doctor Barnes, besides being a skilled physician, possessed three otherqualities necessary to a successful career in medicine--he was prompt toact, practical and humane.
Robert Brierly was leaning against a tall tree, his back toward thatgroup by the water's edge, and his face pressed against the tree'srugged trunk. He lifted his head as the doctor spoke, and turned awhite, set face toward him. The look in his dark eyes was assurancesufficient that he was ready to listen and still able to manfully endureanother blow.
The two men moved a few steps away, and then the doctor said:
"I must be brief. You know, do you not, the theory, that of these men,as to the cause of this calamity?"
"It was an accident, of course."
"They make it that, or suicide."
"Never! Impossible! My brother was a God-fearing man, a happy man."
"Still, there is a bullet-hole just where self-inflicted wounds areoftenest made."
Brierly groaned aloud. "Still," he persisted, "I will never believe it."
"You need not." Doctor Barnes sank his voice to a yet lower pitch. "Mr.Brierly, there is a second bullet-wound in the back!"
"The back! And that means----"
"It means murder, without a doubt. No huntsman could so mistake his markin this open woodland, along the lake. Besides, hunting is not allowedso near the village. Wait," as the young man was about to speak, "wehave no time to discuss motives now, or the possible assassin. What Iwish to know is, do you want this fact known now--at once?"
"I--I fear I don't understand. Would you have my brother's name----"
"Stop, man! Knowing that these men have already jumped at a theory, thethought occurred to me that the work of the officers might be madeeasier if we let the theory of accident stand."
He broke off, looking keenly at the other. He was a good judge of faces,and in that of Robert Brierly he had not been deceived.
The young man's form grew suddenly erect and tense, his eye keen andresolute.
"You are right!" he said, with sudden energy, as he caught at theother's hand. "They must not be enlightened yet."
"Then, the sooner we are back where we can guard this secret, the saferit will be. Come. This is hard for you, Mr. Brierly, I know, and I couldsay much. But words, no matter how sincerely sympathetic, cannot lightensuch a blow as this. I admire your strength, your fortitude, under sucha shock. Will you let me add that any service I can render as physician,as man, or as friend, is yours for the asking?"
The doctor hesitated a moment, then held out his hand, and the fourwatchers beside the body exchanged quick glances of surprise upon seeingthe two men grasp hands, silently and with solemn faces, and then turn,still silently, back to the place where the body lay.
"Don't touch that pistol, Doran," the doctor spoke, in his capacity ofcoroner.
"Certainly not, Doc. I wanted to feel, if I could, whether those sidechambers had been discharged or not. You see," he added, rising to hisfeet, "when we saw this, we knew what we had to do, and it has been'hands off.' We've only used our eyes so far forth."
"And that I wish to do now with more calmness," said Robert Brierly,coming close to the body and kneeling beside it.
It lay less than six feet from the very water's edge, the body of atall, slender young man, with a delicate, high-bred face that had beenfair when living, and was now marble-white, save for the blood-stainsupon the right temple, where the bullet had entered. The hair, of thatsoft blonde colour, seen oftenest upon the heads of children, and rarelyupon adults, was thick and fine, and long enough to frame the handsomeface in close half rings that no barber's skill could ever subdue ormake straight. The hands were long, slender, and soft as a woman's; thefeet small and arched, and the form beneath the loose outlines of theblue flannel fatigue suit in which it was clad, while slender and fullof grace, was well built and not lacking in muscle.
It lay as it had fallen, upon its side, and with one arm thrown out andone limb, the left, drawn up. Not far from the outstretched right armand hand lay the pistol, a six-shooter, which the brother at oncerecognised, with two of the six chambers empty, a fact which Mr. Doranhad just discovered, and was now holding in reserve.
The doctor, upon his discovery of the second bullet-wound, had at onceflung his own handkerchief over the prostrate head, and called for thecarriage robe from his own phaeton, which, fortunately for the wind andlegs of the black pony, had stood ready at his office door, and was nowin waiting, the horse tethered to a tree at the edge of the wood not faraway.
This lap robe Robert Brierly reverently drew away as he knelt beside thestill form, and thus, for some moments remained, turning his gaze fromright to left, from the great tree which grew close at the motionlessfeet, and between the group and the water's edge, its branches spreadingout above them and forming a canopy over the body to a dead stump somedistance away, where a small target leaned, its rings of white and blackand red showing how often a steady hand had sent the ball, close andcloser, until the bull's eye was pierced at last.
No word was uttered as he knelt there, and before he arose he placed ahand upon the dead man's shoulder with an impulsive caressing motion,and bending down, kissed the cold temple just above the crimsondeath-mark. Then, slowly, reverently, he drew the covering once moreover the body and arose.
"That was a vow," he said to the doctor, who stood close beside him."Where is--ah!" He turned toward the group of men who, when he knelt,had withdrawn to a respectful distance.
"Which of you suggested that he had fallen--tripped?"
Doran came forward and silently pointed to the foot of the tree, where,trailing across the grass, and past the dead man's feet, was a tendrilof wild ivy entangled and broken.
"Oh!" exclaimed Brierly. "You saw that too?"
"It was the first thing I did see," said the other, coming to his side,"when I looked about me. It's a very clear case, Mr. Brierly.Target-shooting has been quite a pastime here lately. And see! Therecouldn't be a better place to stand and shoot at that target, than rightagainst that tree, braced against it. It's the right distance and all.He must have stood there, and when he hit the bull's eye, he made aquick forward step, caught his foot in that vine and tripped. A man willnaturally throw out his arm in falling so, especially the right one,and in doing that, somehow as he lunged forward it happened."
"Yes," murmured Brierly, "it is a very simple theory. It--it might havehappened so."
"There wasn't any other way it could happen," muttered one of Doran'scompanions. And at that moment the wheels of an approaching vehicle wereheard, and all turned to look toward the long black hearse, divested ofits plumes, and with two or three thick blankets upon its velvet floor.
It was the doctor who superintended the lifting of the body, keeping thehead covered, and when the hearse drove slowly away with its patheticburden, he turned to Doran.
"I'll drive Mr. Brierly back to town, Doran," he said, "if you don'tmind taking his wheel in charge;" and scarcely waiting for Doran'swilling assent, he took Richard Brierly's arm and led him toward hisphaeton.
The young man had picked up his brother's hat, as they lifted the bodyfrom the ground, and he now carried it in his hand, laying it gentlyupon his knees as he took his seat.
When the doctor had taken his place and picked up the reins he leanedout and looked about him. Two or three horsemen were riding into thewood toward them, and a carriage had halted at the side of the road,while a group of schoolboys, headed by Johnny, the bell ringer, werehurrying down the slope toward the water's edge.
"The
y're beginning to gather," the physician said, grimly. "Well, it'shuman nature, and your brother had a host of friends, Mr. Brierly."
Robert Brierly set his lips and averted his face for a moment.
"Doran," called the doctor. "Come here, will you."
Doran, who had begun to push the shining wheel up the slope, placed itcarefully against a tree and came toward them, the doctor meanwhileturning to Brierly.
"Mr. Brierly, you are a stranger here. Will you let me arrange for you?"
The other nodded, and then said huskily: "But it hurts to take him to anundertaker's!"
"He shall not be taken there," and the doctor turned to Doran, nowstanding at the wheel.
"Mr. Doran, will you take my keys and ride ahead as fast as possible?Tell the undertaker, as you pass, to drive to my house. Then go on andopen it. We will put the body in the private office. Do not remonstrate,Mr. Brierly. It is only what I would wish another to do for me and minein a like affliction." And this was the rule by which this man lived hislife, and because of which death had no terrors.
"I am a bachelor, you must know," the doctor said, as they drove slowlyin the wake of the hearse. "And I have made my home and established myoffice in a cosy cottage near the village proper. It will save you theordeal of strange eyes, and many questions, perhaps, if you will be myguest for a day or two, at least."
Robert Brierly turned and looked this friend in need full in the facefor a moment; then he lifted his hand to brush a sudden moisture fromhis eye.
"I accept all your kindness," he said, huskily, "for I see that you areas sincere as you are kind."
When the body of Charles Brierly had been carried in and placed as itmust remain until the inquest was at an end, and when the crowd ofsorrowing, anxious and curious people had dispersed, the doctor, who wasmasterful at need, making Doran his lieutenant, arranged for thesecuring of a jury; and, after giving some quiet instructions, sent himaway, saying:
"Tell the people it is not yet determined how or when we shall hold theinquiry. Miss Grant, who must be a witness, will hardly be able toappear at once, I fear," for, after looking to his guest's bodilycomfort, the doctor had left him to be alone with his grief for a littlewhile, and had paid a flying visit to Hilda Grant, who lived nearlythree blocks away.
When at length the little house was quiet, and when the doctor and hisheavy-hearted companion had made a pretence of partaking of luncheon,the former, having shut and locked the door upon the elderly African whoserved him, drew his chair close to that of his guest, and said:
"Are you willing to take counsel with me, Mr. Brierly? And are you quitefit and ready to talk about what is most important?"
"I am most anxious for your advice, and for information."
"Then, let us lose no time; there is much to be done."
"Doctor," Robert Brierly bent toward the other and placed a hand uponhis knee. "There are emergencies which bring men together and revealthem, each to each, in a flash, as it were. I cannot feel that you knowme really; but I know you, and would trust you with my dearestpossession, or my most dangerous secret. You will be frank with me, Iknow, if you speak at all; and I want you to tell me something."
"What is it?"
"You have told me how, in your opinion, my poor brother really met hisdeath. Will you put yourself in my place, and tell me how you would actin this horrible emergency? What is the first thing you would do?"
The doctor's answer came after a moment's grave thought.
"I am, I think, a Christian," he said, gravely, "but I think--bah! Iknow that I would make my life's work to find out the truth about thatmurder, for that it was a murder, I solemnly believe."
The Last Stroke: A Detective Story Page 3
