XXXI
CONFRONTED
Late in the afternoon of the following day, the expected car entered Mr.Roberts' spacious grounds. It contained, besides the chauffeur, justtwo persons, the District Attorney and the Chief Inspector. But it wasfollowed by another in which could be seen Mr. Gryce and a stenographerfrom the District Attorney's office.
The house was finished by this time, and to one approaching through thedriveway presented a very attractive appearance. As the last turn wasmade, the sea burst upon the view--a somewhat tumultuous sea, for thewind was keen that day and whipped the waves into foam and froth from thehorizon to the immediate shore-line. To add to the scene, a low blackcloud with coppery edges hovered at the meeting of sea and sky, betweenwhich and themselves one taut sail could be seen trailing its boom in thewater.
To one of them--to Mr. Gryce, in fact, upon whose age Fancy had begun towork, this battling craft presented an ominous appearance. It was doomed.The gale was too much for it. Did he see in this obvious fact a prophecyof what lay before the man upon whose privacy they were on the point ofintruding?
The house was so arranged that to reach the main entrance it wasnecessary to pass a certain window. As they did so, the figure of Mr.Roberts could be seen in the room beyond moving about in an interestedsurvey of its new furnishings and present comfortable arrangement. Tothese men bent on an errand as far as possible removed from interests ofthis kind, this evidence of Mr. Roberts' pleasure in the promise offuture domesticity gave a painful shock, and raised in the minds of morethan one of them a doubt--perhaps the first in days--whether a man soheavily weighted with a burden of unacknowledged guilt could show thispleasurable absorption in his new surroundings.
However, when they came to see him nearer, and marked the stiffening ofhis body and the slight toss-up of his head, as he noted the number andthe exact character of his guests, their spirits fell again, for he wascertainly a broken man, however much he might seek to disguise it. Yetthere was something in this extraordinary man's personality--a force ora charm wholly dissociated it may be from worth or the sterling qualitieswhich insure respect--which appealed to them in spite of their new-foundprejudice, and prevented any dallying with his suspense or the use of anyof the common methods usually employed in an encounter of this kind.
The Chief Inspector to whom the first say had been given faced thedirector squarely, as he saw how the hand which had just welcomed theDistrict Attorney fell at his approach.
"You are surprised, Mr. Roberts, and rightly, to see me here not only inconnection with the Prosecuting Attorney of the City of New York, butwith a member of my own force. This, you will say, is no politicaldelegation such as you have been led to expect. Nor is it, Mr. Roberts.But let us hope you will pardon this subterfuge when you learn that itwas resorted to for the sole purpose of sparing you all unnecessaryunpleasantness in an interview which can no longer be avoided ordelayed."
"Let us sit."
It was his only answer.
When they had all complied, the District Attorney took the lead bysaying:
"I am disposed to omit all preliminaries, Mr. Roberts. We have but oneobject in this visit and that is to clear up to your satisfaction, aswell as to our own, certain difficulties of an unexpected nature whichhave met us in our investigation into the crime in which you, as adirector of the museum in which it occurred, and ourselves as protectorsof the public peace, are all vitally concerned."
"Granted," came in the most courteous manner from their involuntaryhost. "Yet I fail to understand why so many are needed for a purposeso laudable."
"Perhaps this will no longer surprise you, if you will allow me to drawyour attention to this chart," was the answer made to this by theDistrict Attorney.
Here he took from a portfolio which he carried a square of paper which heproceeded to lay out on a table standing conveniently near.
Mr. Roberts threw a glance at it and straightened again.
"Explain yourself," said he. "I am quite at your service."
The District Attorney made, perhaps, one of the greatest efforts of hislife.
"I see that you recognize this chart, Mr. Roberts. You know when it wasmade and why. But what you may not know is this: that in serving itsoriginal purpose, it has proved to be our guide in another of equal, ifnot greater, importance. For instance, it shows us quite plainly who ofall the persons present at the time of first alarm were near enough tothe Curator's office to be in the line of escape from the particularlysecluded spot from which the arrow was delivered. Of these persons, onlyone fulfills all other necessary conditions with an exactness whichexcuses any special interest we may feel in him. It is he who istabulated here as number 3."
It was said. Mr. Roberts was well acquainted with his own number. He didnot have to follow with his eye the point of the District Attorney'sfinger to know upon whose name it had settled; and for a moment,surprise, shock,--the greatest which can befall a man,--struggled withcountless other emotions in his usually impassive countenance. Then heregained his poise, and with a curiously sarcastic smile such as his lipshad seldom shown, he coldly asked:
"And by what stretch of probability do you pick me out for this attack?There were other men and women in this court, some very near me if Iremember rightly. In what are their characters superior, or their claimsto respect greater, that you should thus single me out as the fool orknave who could not only commit so wild and despicable an act, but go sofar in folly--let alone knavery--as to conceal it afterward?"
"No evidence has been found against the others you have named which couldin any way connect them with this folly--or shall we say knavery, sinceyou yourself have made use of the word. But hard as it is for me to saythis, in a presence so highly esteemed, this is not true of you, Mr.Roberts, however high are our hopes that you will have such explanationsready as will relieve our minds from further doubts, and send us homerejoicing. Shall I be frank in stating the precise reasons which seemto justify our present presumption?"
The director bowed, the same curious smile giving an unnatural expressionto his mouth.
"Let me begin then," the other continued, "by reading to you a list ofquestions made out at Headquarters, as a test by which suspicion might beconscientiously held or summarily dismissed. They are few in number," headded, as he unfolded a slip of paper taken from his vest pocket. "Butthey are very vital, Mr. Roberts. Here is the first:
"'Whose hand carried the bow from cellar to gallery?'"
The director remained silent; but the oppression of that silence wasdifficult for them all to endure.
"This the second:
"'Was it the same that carried the arrow from one gallery to another?'"
Still no word; but Mr. Gryce, who was watching Mr. Roberts' every movewithout apparently looking up from the knob of his own cane, turnedresolutely aside; the strain was too great. How long could suchsuperhuman composure endure? And which word of all that were to comewould break it?
Meanwhile, the District Attorney was reading the third question.
"'Is it possible for an arrow, shot through the loophole made by thecurving in of the vase, to reach the mark set for it by Mr. Travis'testimony?'
"That question was answered when Mr. La Fleche made his experiments frombehind the two pedestals. It could not have been done from the one behindwhich Mr. Travis crouched, but was entirely possible from the rear of theother."
With a wave of his hand, Mr. Roberts dismissed this, and the DistrictAttorney proceeded.
"'Which of the men and women known to be in the museum when this arrowwas delivered has enough knowledge of archery to string a bow? A mark canbe reached by chance, but only an accustomed hand can string a bow asunyielding as this one.'
"I will pause there, Mr. Roberts. You may judge by our presence here towhose hand and to whose skill we have felt forced to ascribe this wantonshooting of a young and lovely girl. We wish to be undeceived, and standready to listen to anything you may have to say in contradiction of theseconclusion
s. That is, if you wish to speak. You know that you will bewell within your rights to remain silent. Likewise that if you decide tospeak, it will be our painful duty to make record of your words for anyuse our duty may hereafter suggest."
"I will speak." The words came with difficulty,--but they came. "Ask whatyou will. Satisfy my curiosity, as well as your own."
"First then, the bow. It was brought up from the cellar a fortnight ormore before it was used, and placed on end in the Curator's office, whereit was seen more than once by the woman who wipes up the floors. Theperson who did this cast a shadow on the cellar wall,--that shadow wasseen. Need I say more? A man's shadow is himself--sometimes."
"I brought up the bow; but I do not see how that implicates me in theuse which was afterward made of it. My reasons for bringing it up wereinnocent enough----"
He stopped--not even knowing that he stopped. His eyes had been drawn toa small article which the District Attorney had dropped from his handonto the table. It looked like an end of black tape; but whether it wasthis or something quite different, it held the gaze of the man who wasspeaking, so completely that he forgot to go on.
The hush which followed paled the cheeks of more than one man there.To release the tension, the District Attorney resumed his argument,observing quietly, and as if no interruption had occurred:
"As to the arrow and its means of secret transfer from one side of thebuilding to the other in the face of a large crowd, let me direct yourattention to this little strip of folded silk. You have seen it before.Surely, I am quite justified in asking whether indeed you have nothandled it both before and after the lamentable occurrence we arediscussing?"
"I see it for the first time," came from lips so stiff that the wordswere with difficulty articulated. "What is its purpose?" he asked aftera short pause.
"I hardly think it necessary to tell you," came in chilling response fromthe now thoroughly disenchanted official. "It looks like a loop, andnotwithstanding your assertion that you see it now for the first time,we have ample evidence that it was once attached to the coat you wore onthat fatal day and later carefully severed from it and dropped on themuseum floor."
The District Attorney waited, they all waited with eyes on the subject ofthis attack, for some token of shame or indignation at this scarcelyveiled insinuation. But beyond a certain stillness of expression, stillfurther masking a countenance naturally cold and irresponsive, no hintwas given that any effect had been produced upon him by these words.The coal before it falls apart into ash holds itself intact though itsheart of flame has departed; so he--or such was Mr. Gryce's thought as hewaited for the District Attorney's next move.
It was of a sort which recalls that soul-harrowing legend of the man hungup in an iron cage above a yawning precipice, from under whose madlyshifting feet one plank after another is withdrawn from the cage'sbottom, till no spot is left for him to stand on; and he falls.
"I hear that you are an expert with the bow and arrow, Mr. Roberts, orrather were at an earlier stage of your career. You have even taken aprize for the same from an Alpine Club."
Ah! that told. It was such an unexpected blow; and it showed so muchknowledge. But the man who thus beheld his own youth brought up inaccusation against him quickly recovered; and with an entire change ofdemeanor, faced them all and spoke up at last quickly and defiantly:
"Gentlemen, I have shown patience up till now, because I saw that you hadsomething on your minds which it might be better for you and possibly forme to be rid of. This affair of Miss Willett's death is, as all mustacknowledge, baffling enough to strain even to the point of folly anyeffort made to explain it. I had sympathy with your difficulties, andhave still enough of that sympathy left, not to express too muchindignation at what you are pleased to call your suspicions. I willmerely halt for the moment your attempts in my direction, by asking,what have you or anybody else ever seen in me to think I would practisemy old-time skill on a young and beautiful stranger enjoying herself ina place so dear to my heart as the museum of which I have been a directornow these many years? Am I a madman, or a destroyer of youth? I love theyoung. This inhuman death of one so fair and innocent has whitened mylocks and seared my very heart-strings. I shall never get over it; andwhatever evidence you may have or think you have, of my having handledbow and arrow in that museum gallery, it must fall before the fact of mynatural incapability to do the thing with which you have charged me. Noact possible to man is more in contradiction to my instincts, than thewanton or even casual killing of a young girl."
"I believe you."
It was the Inspector who spoke, and the emphasis which he gave to hiswords lifted the director's head again into its old self-reliant poise.But the silence which followed was so weighted with possibilities ofsomething yet to be said by this portentous holder of secrets, that itcaused the nobly lifted head slowly to droop again and the lips which hadopened impulsively to close.
Were the words coming--the words which might at a stroke pull down thewhole fabric of his life, past, present and to come?
In his excited state of mind he seemed already to hear them. Doom wasin their sound, and the world, once so bright, was growing dark abouthim--dark!
Yet how could these men know? And if they did why did they not speak? Andthey did not; they did not. There was silence in the air, not words; andlife for him was taking on once more its ancient colors, when sharp andmerry through the heavy quiet there rang out the five clear calls of acuckoo clock from some near-by room. One, two, three, four, five! Jollyreminder of old days! But to the men who listened, the voice of doomspoke in its gladsome peal, whether the ears which caught it were thoseof accuser or accused. Old days were not the days to be rejoiced in ata moment so perilous to the one and so painful to the others.
With the cessation of the last shrill cry, the Inspector repeated thephrase:
"I believe you, Mr. Roberts. But how about the woman who was troublingyou with demands you had no wish to grant? Miss Willetts, as you chooseto call her, though you must know that her name is Duclos, was not theonly person in the line of the arrow shot on that day from one gallery tothe other. Perhaps this weapon of destruction was meant for one it failedto reach. Perhaps--but I have gone far enough. I should not have gone sofar if it had not been my wish to avoid any misunderstanding with one ofsuch undoubted claims to consideration as yourself. If you haveexplanations to offer--if you can in any way relieve our minds from theresponsibilities which are weighing upon us, pray believe in our honestdesire to have you do so. There may be something back of appearanceswhich has escaped our penetration; but it will have to be somethingstartlingly clear, for we know facts in your life which are not open tothe world at large, I may even say to your most intimate friends."
"As, for instance?"
"That Mrs. Taylor is no stranger to you, even if Mademoiselle Ducloswas. We have evidence you will find it hard to dispute that you knewand--liked each other, fifteen years or so ago."
"Evidence?"
"Incontrovertible, Mr. Roberts."
"Attested to by her? I do not believe it. I never shall believe it, andI deny the charge. The ravings of a sick woman,--if it is such you havelistened to----"
"I advise you to stop there, Mr. Roberts," interjected the DistrictAttorney. "Mrs. Taylor has said nothing. Neither has Madame Duclos. Whatthe former may say under oath I do not know. We shall both have anopportunity to hear to-morrow, when Coroner Price opens his inquest. Sheis in sufficiently good health now, I believe, to give her testimony.Pray, say nothing." Mr. Roberts had started to his feet. "Do nothing. Youwill be one of the witnesses called----"
There he stopped, meeting with steady gaze the wild eyes of the man whowas staring at him, staring at them all in an effort to hold them back,while his finger crept stealthily and ever more stealthily toward hisright-hand vest-pocket.
"You would dare," he shouted, then suddenly dropped his hand and brokeinto a low, inarticulate murmur, harrowing and dreadful to hear. To someit sounded like a presage t
o absolute confession, but presently thismurmur took on a distinctness, and they heard him say:
"I should be glad to have five minutes' talk with Mrs. Taylor before thattime. In your presence, gentlemen, or in anybody's presence, I do notcare whose."
Did he know--had he felt whose step was in the hall, whose form was atthe door? If he did, then the agitation which in another moment shook hisself-possession into ashes was that of hope realized, not of fearsurprised. Ermentrude Taylor entered the room and at the sight of her herose and his arms went out; then he sank back weak and stricken into hischair, gazing as if he could never have his fill at her noble countenanceluminous with a boundless pity if not with the tenderness of anunforgotten love.
When she was near enough to speak without effort and had thanked thegentlemen who had made way for her with every evidence of respect, sheaddressed him in quite a natural tone but with strange depths of feelingin her voice:
"What is it you want to say to me? As I stood at the door, I heard youtell these gentlemen that you would like to have a few minutes' talk withme. I was glad to hear that; and I am ready to listen to--_anything_."
The pause she made before uttering the last word caused it to ring withdouble force when it fell. All heads drooped at the sound and the linescame out on Mr. Gryce's face till he looked his eighty-five years andmore. But what Carleton Roberts had to say at this critical moment of hisdouble life was not at all what they expected to hear.
Rising, for her eyes seemed to draw him to his feet, he cried in theindescribable tone of suppressed feeling:
"Shadows are falling upon me. My interview with these gentlemen may endin a way I cannot now foresee. In my uncertainty as to how and when wemay meet again, I should like to make you such amends as opportunityallows me. Ermentrude, will you marry me--now--to-night, before leavingthis house?"
A low cry escaped her. She was no more prepared for this astounding offerthan were these others. "Carleton!" came in a groan from her lips."Carleton! Carleton!" the word rising in intensity as thought followedthought and her spirits ran the full gamut of what this proposal on hispart meant in past, present and future. Then she fell silent and they sawthe great soul of the woman illumine a countenance always noble, with thelight of a purpose altogether lofty. When she spoke it was to say:
"I recognize your kindness and the impulse which led to this offer. ButI do not wish to add so much as a feather's weight to your difficulties.Let matters remain as they are till after----"
He took a quick step toward her.
"Not if my heart is full of regret?" he cried. "Not if I recognize inyou now the one influence left in this world which can help me bear theburden of my own past and the threatening collapse of my whole future?"
"No," she replied, with an access of emotion of so elevated a type itadded to rather than detracted from her dignity. "It is too much or it isnot enough."
His head drooped and he fell back, throwing a glance to right and leftat the two officials who had drawn up on either side of him. It was anexpressive glance; it was as if he said, "You see! she knows as well asyou for whom the arrow was intended--yet she is kind."
But in an instant later he was before her again, with an aspect sochanged that they all marveled.
"I had hoped," he began, then stopped. Passion had supplanted duty in hisdisturbed mind; a passion so great it swept everything before it and hestood bare to the soul before the woman he had wronged and under the eyesof these men who knew it. "Life is over for us two," said he, "whetheryour presence here is a trap in which I have been caught and from whichit is hopeless for me to extricate myself; or whether it is by chance oran act of Providence that we should meet again with eager ears listeningand eager eyes watching for such tokens of guilt as will make their owncourse clear, true it is that they have got what they sought; andwhatever the result, nothing of real comfort or honor is left for eitheryou or me. Our lives have gone down in shipwreck; but before we yieldutterly to our fate, will you not grant me my prayer if I precede it byan appeal for forgiveness not only for old wrongs but for my latest andgravest one? Ermentrude, I entreat."
Ah, then, they were witness to the fascination of the man, hiddenheretofore, but now visible even to the schooled spectators of thistragedy of human souls. The tone permeated with pathos and charm, thelook, the attitude from which all formality had fled and only the naturalgrace remained, all were of the sort which sways without virtue androuses in both weak and strong an answering chord of sympathy.
The woman in whom it probably awakened a thousand memories trembled underit. She drew back, but her whole countenance had softened, revealingwhatever of native charm she also possessed. Would she heed his prayer?If she did not, they could well be silent. If she did----
But the woman gave no sign of yielding.
"Cease, Carleton," came in stern reply--stern for all the approach toconcession in her manner. "If your life and my life are both over, let ustalk of other things than marriage. When one faces death, whether of bodyor spirit, one clings to higher hopes than those of earth or itsremaining interests. If my forgiveness will help you to this end, youhave it. I have had but one aim in life since we parted, and that was tosee your higher self triumph over the material one. If that hour has comeor is coming, my life needs no other consolation. In having that, Ipossess all."
The man who listened--the men who listened--stood for a moment in awe ofthe nobility with which she thus expressed herself. Then the only personpresent whom she seemed to see burst forth with a low cry, saying:
"You shall not be disappointed. I----"
But there she hushed him. "No," said she. And he seemed to understand andwas silent.
What did this mean?
The District Attorney betrayed his doubt; the Chief his, each in acharacteristic way. The former frowned, the latter tapped his breastabsently with his forefinger while looking askance at Mr. Gryce, who inhis turn took up some little object from the desk beside which he wasstanding and to it confided whatever surprise he felt at this proof ofsome uncommunicated secret shared by these two, of which he had not yetbecome possessed. Then he again looked up and the glances of the threemen met. Should they attempt to sound this new mystery of mutualunderstanding to which as yet they had received no clue? No, the inquestwould do that. Neither this man nor this woman could stand a closeexamination. He would weaken from despair, she from the candor of hersoul. They would wait. But ah, the tragedy of it! Even these men hardenedby years of contact with every species of human suffering and crime wereopenly moved. If they needed an excuse, surely they could find it in thesuperior abilities and attainment of the man upon whom justice was aboutto wreak its vengeance. And yet, what more despicable crime had they everencountered in the long line of their duty. The youth and innocence ofthe real victim and the worth of the intended one only added to itswickedness and shame. It was this thought which again steeled theirhearts.
Meantime the two upon whom they now redirected their attention hadattempted no further speech and made no further move. She had said Noto something he was willing to concede, and he had accepted that no asfinal. Had this brought him any relief? Possibly. And she? Had it hada like effect on her? Hardly. Though her aspect was one of calmresignation, her physical powers were perceptibly failing. This initself was alarming, and determined them not to subject her any longerto an interview which might rob her of all strength for the morrow.Accordingly, the District Attorney, addressing Mr. Roberts, suggestivelyremarked:
"Mrs. Taylor is showing fatigue. Would it not be better for you to say atonce while she is yet in a condition to remain with us, whether youprefer to make a public statement of your case or leave it to unfolditself in the ordinary manner through the two impending inquests and thebusy pen of the reporter?"
"First, am I under arrest? Am I to leave this house----?"
"Not to-night. An officer will remain here with you. To-morrow--after theinquest, perhaps."
"I will make a statement. I will make it now. I wish to
be left in peaceto-night, to think and to regret." Then turning to her, "Ermentrude, awoman who has served me and my family for twenty-five years is at thisvery moment in the rear of the house. Go to her and let her care for you.I have business here,--business of which I am sure you approve."
"Yes, Carleton. And remember that I shall be put upon my oath to-morrow.The questions I am asked I must answer--and truthfully," she added,with a look as full of anguish as inquiry.
"I shall be truthful myself," he assured her, and again their eyes met.
After a while she gave a stumble backward, which Mr. Gryce perceiving,held out his arm and assisted her from the room.
But once in the hall he felt the clinch of her fingers digging into hisarm.
"Is there no hope?" she whispered. "Must I live----"
"Yes," he interrupted kindly, but with the authority given him by hisrelations to this case. "You have won his heart at last, and he speakstruly when he says that to you and to you alone can he look for comfort,wherever the action of the law may leave him."
She shivered; then glowed again with renewed fire.
"Thank you," she said; and they passed on.
The Mystery of the Hasty Arrow Page 31
