The Leavenworth Case

by Anna Katharine Green

  X. MR. GRYCE RECEIVES NEW IMPETUS

  “There’s nothing ill Can dwell in such a temple.”

  Tempest.

  THIS astounding discovery made a most unhappy impression upon me. It wastrue, then. Eleanore the beautiful, the lovesome, was--I did not, couldnot finish the sentence, even in the silence of my own mind.

  “You look surprised,” said Mr. Gryce, glancing curiously towards thekey. “Now, I ain’t. A woman does not thrill, blush, equivocate, andfaint for nothing; especially such a woman as Miss Leavenworth.”

  “A woman who could do such a deed would be the last to thrill,equivocate, and faint,” I retorted. “Give me the key; let me see it.”

  He complacently put it in my hand. “It is the one we want. No gettingout of that.”

  I returned it. “If she declares herself innocent, I will believe her.”

  He stared with great amazement. “You have strong faith in the women,” helaughed. “I hope they will never disappoint you.”

  I had no reply for this, and a short silence ensued, first broken by Mr.Gryce. “There is but one thing left to do,” said he. “Fobbs, you willhave to request Miss Leavenworth to come down. Do not alarm her; onlysee that she comes. To the reception room,” he added, as the man drewoff.

  No sooner were we left alone than I made a move to return to Mary, buthe stopped me.

  “Come and see it out,” he whispered. “She will be down in a moment; seeit out; you had best.”

  Glancing back, I hesitated; but the prospect of beholding Eleanore againdrew me, in spite of myself. Telling him to wait, I returned to Mary’sside to make my excuses.

  “What is the matter--what has occurred?” she breathlessly asked.

  “Nothing as yet to disturb you much. Do not be alarmed.” But my facebetrayed me.

  “There is something!” said she.

  “Your cousin is coming down.”

  “Down here?” and she shrank visibly.

  “No, to the reception room.”

  “I do not understand. It is all dreadful; and no one tells me anything.”

  “I pray God there may be nothing to tell. Judging from your presentfaith in your cousin, there will not be. Take comfort, then, and beassured I will inform you if anything occurs which you ought to know.”

  Giving her a look of encouragement, I left her crushed against thecrimson pillows of the sofa on which she sat, and rejoined Mr. Gryce. Wehad scarcely entered the reception room when Eleanore Leavenworth camein.

  More languid than she was an hour before, but haughty still, she slowlyadvanced, and, meeting my eye, gently bent her head.

  “I have been summoned here,” said she, directing herself exclusively toMr. Gryce, “by an individual whom I take to be in your employ. If so,may I request you to make your wishes known at once, as I am quiteexhausted, and am in great need of rest.”

  “Miss Leavenworth,” returned Mr. Gryce, rubbing his hands together andstaring in quite a fatherly manner at the door-knob, “I am very sorry totrouble you, but the fact is I wish to ask you----”

  But here she stopped him. “Anything in regard to the key which that manhas doubtless told you he saw me drop into the ashes?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “Then I must refuse to answer any questions concerning it. I havenothing to say on the subject, unless it is this:”--giving him a lookfull of suffering, but full of a certain sort of courage, too--“that hewas right if he told you I had the key in hiding about my person, andthat I attempted to conceal it in the ashes of the grate.”

  “Still, Miss----”

  But she had already withdrawn to the door. “I pray you to excuse me,” said she. “No argument you could advance would make any difference in mydetermination; therefore it would be but a waste of energy on yourpart to attempt any.” And, with a flitting glance in my direction, notwithout its appeal, she quietly left the room.

  For a moment Mr. Gryce stood gazing after her with a look of greatinterest, then, bowing with almost exaggerated homage, he hastilyfollowed her out.

  I had scarcely recovered from the surprise occasioned by this unexpectedmovement when a quick step was heard in the hall, and Mary, flushed andanxious, appeared at my side.

  “What is it?” she inquired. “What has Eleanore been saying?”

  “Alas!” I answered, “she has not said anything. That is the trouble,Miss Leavenworth. Your cousin preserves a reticence upon certain pointsvery painful to witness. She ought to understand that if she persists indoing this, that----”

  “That what?” There was no mistaking the deep anxiety prompting thisquestion.

  “That she cannot avoid the trouble that will ensue.”

  For a moment she stood gazing at me, with great horror-stricken,incredulous eyes; then sinking back into a chair, flung her hands overher face with the cry:

  “Oh, why were we ever born! Why were we allowed to live! Why did we notperish with those who gave us birth!”

  In the face of anguish like this, I could not keep still.

  “Dear Miss Leavenworth,” I essayed, “there is no cause for such despairas this. The future looks dark, but not impenetrable. Your cousin willlisten to reason, and in explaining----”

  But she, deaf to my words, had again risen to her feet, and stood beforeme in an attitude almost appalling.

  “Some women in my position would go mad! mad! mad!”

  I surveyed her with growing wonder. I thought I knew what she meant. Shewas conscious of having given the cue which had led to this suspicion ofher cousin, and that in this way the trouble which hung over their headswas of her own making. I endeavored to soothe her, but my effortswere all unavailing. Absorbed in her own anguish, she paid but littleattention to me. Satisfied at last that I could do nothing more for her,I turned to go. The movement seemed to arouse her.

  “I am sorry to leave,” said I, “without having afforded you any comfort.Believe me; I am very anxious to assist you. Is there no one I can sendto your side; no woman friend or relative? It is sad to leave you alonein this house at such a time.”

  “And do you expect me to remain here? Why, I should die! Here to-night?” and the long shudders shook her very frame.

  “It is not at all necessary for you to do so, Miss Leavenworth,” brokein a bland voice over our shoulders.

  I turned with a start. Mr. Gryce was not only at our back, but hadevidently been there for some moments. Seated near the door, one handin his pocket, the other caressing the arm of his chair, he met ourgaze with a sidelong smile that seemed at once to beg pardon forthe intrusion, and to assure us it was made with no unworthy motive.“Everything will be properly looked after, Miss; you can leave withperfect safety.”

  I expected to see her resent this interference; but instead of that, shemanifested a certain satisfaction in beholding him there.

  Drawing me to one side, she whispered, “You think this Mr. Gryce veryclever, do you not?”

  “Well,” I cautiously replied, “he ought to be to hold the position hedoes. The authorities evidently repose great confidence in him.”

  Stepping from my side as suddenly as she had approached it, she crossedthe room and stood before Mr. Gryce.

  “Sir,” said she, gazing at him with a glance of entreaty: “I hear youhave great talents; that you can ferret out the real criminal froma score of doubtful characters, and that nothing can escape thepenetration of your eye. If this is so, have pity on two orphangirls, suddenly bereft of their guardian and protector, and use youracknowledged skill in finding out who has committed this crime. Itwould be folly in me to endeavor to hide from you that my cousin in hertestimony has given cause for suspicion; but I here declare her to be asinnocent of wrong as I am; and I am only endeavoring to turn the eyeof justice from the guiltless to the guilty when I entreat you to lookelsewhere for the culprit who committed this deed.” Pausing, she heldher two hands out before him. “It must have been some common burglar ordesperado; can you not bring him, then, to justic
e?”

  Her attitude was so touching, her whole appearance so earnest andappealing, that I saw Mr. Gryce’s countenance brim with suppressedemotion, though his eye never left the coffee-urn upon which it hadfixed itself at her first approach.

  “You must find out--you can!” she went on. “Hannah--the girl who isgone--must know all about it. Search for her, ransack the city, doanything; my property is at your disposal. I will offer a large rewardfor the detection of the burglar who did this deed!”

  Mr. Gryce slowly rose. “Miss Leavenworth,” he began, and stopped; theman was actually agitated. “Miss Leavenworth, I did not need your verytouching appeal to incite me to my utmost duty in this case. Personaland professional pride were in themselves sufficient. But, since youhave honored me with this expression of your wishes, I will not concealfrom you that I shall feel a certain increased interest in the affairfrom this hour. What mortal man can do, I will do, and if in one monthfrom this day I do not come to you for my reward, Ebenezer Gryce is notthe man I have always taken him to be.”

  “And Eleanore?”

  “We will mention no names,” said he, gently waving his hand to and fro.

  A few minutes later, I left the house with Miss Leavenworth, she havingexpressed a wish to have me accompany her to the home of her friend,Mrs. Gilbert, with whom she had decided to take refuge. As we rolleddown the street in the carriage Mr. Gryce had been kind enough toprovide for us, I noticed my companion cast a look of regret behind her,as if she could not help feeling some compunctions at this desertion ofher cousin.

  But this expression was soon changed for the alert look of one whodreads to see a certain face start up from some unknown quarter.Glancing up and down the street, peering furtively into doorways aswe passed, starting and trembling if a sudden figure appeared on thecurbstone, she did not seem to breathe with perfect ease till we hadleft the avenue behind us and entered upon Thirty-seventh Street. Then,all at once her natural color returned and, leaning gently toward me,she asked if I had a pencil and piece of paper I could give her. Ifortunately possessed both. Handing them to her, I watched her with somelittle curiosity while she wrote two or three lines, wondering she couldchoose such a time and place for the purpose.

  “A little note I wish to send,” she explained, glancing at the almostillegible scrawl with an expression of doubt. “Couldn’t you stop thecarriage a moment while I direct it?”

  I did so, and in another instant the leaf which I had torn from mynote-book was folded, directed, and sealed with a stamp which she hadtaken from her own pocket-book.

  “That is a crazy-looking epistle,” she muttered, as she laid it,direction downwards, in her lap.

  “Why not wait, then, till you arrive at your destination, where you canseal it properly, and direct it at your leisure?”

  “Because I am in haste. I wish to mail it now. Look, there is a box onthe corner; please ask the driver to stop once more.”

  “Shall I not post it for you?” I asked, holding out my hand.

  But she shook her head, and, without waiting for my assistance, openedthe door on her own side of the carriage and leaped to the ground. Eventhen she paused to glance up and down the street, before venturing todrop her hastily written letter into the box. But when it had left herhand, she looked brighter and more hopeful than I had yet seen her. Andwhen, a few moments later, she turned to bid me good-by in front of herfriend’s house, it was with almost a cheerful air she put out her handand entreated me to call on her the next day, and inform her how theinquest progressed.

  I shall not attempt to disguise from you the fact that I spent allthat long evening in going over the testimony given at the inquest,endeavoring to reconcile what I had heard with any other theory thanthat of Eleanore’s guilt. Taking a piece of paper, I jotted down theleading causes of suspicion as follows:

  1. Her late disagreement with her uncle, and evident estrangement fromhim, as testified to by Mr. Harwell.

  2. The mysterious disappearance of one of the servants of the house.

  3. The forcible accusation made by her cousin,--overheard, however, onlyby Mr. Gryce and myself.

  4. Her equivocation in regard to the handkerchief found stained withpistol smut on the scene of the tragedy.

  5. Her refusal to speak in regard to the paper which she was supposed tohave taken from Mr. Leavenworth’s table immediately upon the removal ofthe body.

  6. The finding of the library key in her possession.

  “A dark record,” I involuntarily decided, as I looked it over; buteven in doing so began jotting down on the other side of the sheet thefollowing explanatory notes:

  1. Disagreements and even estrangements between relatives are common.Cases where such disagreements and estrangements have led to crime,rare.

  2. The disappearance of Hannah points no more certainly in one directionthan another.

  3. If Mary’s private accusation of her cousin was forcible andconvincing, her public declaration that she neither knew nor suspectedwho might be the author of this crime, was equally so. To be sure, theformer possessed the advantage of being uttered spontaneously; but itwas likewise true that it was spoken under momentary excitement, withoutforesight of the consequences, and possibly without due consideration ofthe facts.

  4, 5. An innocent man or woman, under the influence of terror, willoften equivocate in regard to matters that seem to criminate them.

  But the key! What could I say to that? Nothing. With that key in herpossession, and unexplained, Eleanore Leavenworth stood in an attitudeof suspicion which even I felt forced to recognize. Brought to thispoint, I thrust the paper into my pocket, and took up the evening_Express_. Instantly my eye fell upon these words:

  SHOCKING MURDER

  MR. LEAVENWORTH, THE WELL-KNOWN MILLIONAIRE, FOUND DEAD IN HIS ROOM

  NO CLUE TO THE PERPETRATOR OF THE DEED

  THE AWFUL CRIME COMMITTED WITH A PISTOL--EXTRAORDINARY FEATURES OF THE AFFAIR

  Ah! here at least was one comfort; her name was not yet mentionedas that of a suspected party. But what might not the morrow bring? Ithought of Mr. Gryce’s expressive look as he handed me that key, andshuddered.

  “She must be innocent; she cannot be otherwise,” I reiterated to myself,and then pausing, asked what warranty I had of this? Only her beautifulface; only, only her beautiful face. Abashed, I dropped the newspaper,and went down-stairs just as a telegraph boy arrived with a message fromMr. Veeley. It was signed by the proprietor of the hotel at which Mr.Veeley was then stopping and ran thus:

  “WASHINGTON, D. C.

  “MR. Everett Raymond--

  “Mr. Veeley is lying at my house ill. Have not shown him telegram, fearing results. Will do so as soon as advisable.

  “Thomas Loworthy.”

  I went in musing. Why this sudden sensation of relief on my part? Couldit be that I had unconsciously been guilty of cherishing a latent dreadof my senior’s return? Why, who else could know so well the secretsprings which governed this family? Who else could so effectually put meupon the right track? Was it possible that I, Everett Raymond, hesitatedto know the truth in any case? No, that should never be said; and,sitting down again, I drew out the memoranda I had made and, lookingthem carefully over, wrote against No. 6 the word suspicious in goodround characters. There! no one could say, after that, I had allowedmyself to be blinded by a bewitching face from seeing what, in a womanwith no claims to comeliness, would be considered at once an almostindubitable evidence of guilt.

  And yet, after it was all done, I found myself repeating aloud as Igazed at it: “If she declares herself innocent, I will believe her.” Socompletely are we the creatures of our own predilections.