The Deep Lake Mystery

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XVIII ALL RIGHT AT LAST

  It was just after I had given Alma that first kiss, and had realized thatshe was not offended by my daring, that Merry came to the house door,crying out, “Come, Miss Alma, come quickly!” and with an agonized look,Alma begged me to go at once, and she herself ran into the house.

  Then John Merivale came out and controlling his agitation with an effort,he said, “If you please, sir, Miss Remsen asks that you go home now. Shecannot see you again and she will send you some word later on.”

  “Tell me what’s the trouble, Merivale,” I urged. “I am a friend of MissAlma, more than a friend, indeed.”

  I looked at him squarely, as man to man, and he gazed back at me, hisface drawn with strong emotion of some sort.

  “If you want to help her, sir, you’ll just go quietly away. You can donothing here.”

  So, there was nothing to do but to go, and I started off down the gardenpath.

  I looked back at the house as I stepped on the dock, but I saw nobody atany window, nor any sign of anybody about.

  It was all mysterious, terribly so, but I had the remembrance of thatmoment when I had held Alma close in my arms, and she had offered noresistance.

  Surely, some day, the clouds would clear away and all would be explained.

  Slowly I rowed back to the Moore cottage and pondered as I went.

  When I reached Variable Winds, I found the family and Detective March infull conclave.

  Spread on a table before them lay a conglomerate collection of smallobjects, among which I recognized a lot of beads that I had seen Almawear, a pretty finger ring and several other odd bits of jewellery. Also,some scraps of bright coloured silk, that I felt, intuitively, were bitsof the Tracy waistcoats. Also, a Totem Pole, broken into three pieces.

  I sat down with the others, and prepared to enter the discussion.

  “I want to know all about it,” I said. “All you know. Don’t keep anythingback with the idea of sparing my feelings. I have not had a definite talkwith Alma, but I have reason to think she cares for me, and I am contentto bide my time. But, I propose to do all I can to save her from what Ifeel sure is a mistaken suspicion of her guilt in the Tracy matter.”

  “Very well,” said March, looking at me gravely, “then please understandthat the evidence against Miss Remsen is overwhelming. You know most ofit, you have heard nearly all the details of the case as they have cometo light. Now, try to realize that the cumulation of all these facts is amountain of proof that will be hard to move.”

  “I have heard it stated,” I said, calmly, “that circumstantial evidence,though seemingly convincing, must never be taken as absolute proof.”

  Keeley stared at me, as if amazed, but I stood my ground.

  “You’ll have to get a human witness before you can declare a certainty.”

  “True enough, Mr. Norris,” March agreed. “And we have plenty of humanevidence. Mr. Ames’s story of the quarrel between Miss Remsen and heruncle, you have heard. At that time Miss Remsen declared she would dosomething desperate, if Sampson Tracy persisted in his determination totell Mrs. Dallas something that Alma wanted kept secret. What could thatbe, save the fact of her own defective health, or impaired mentality? Shesaid Mrs. Dallas already hated her, and, knowing that, would hate hermore. What other construction can possibly be put on those words? Then,we have Jennie’s story of Miss Remsen’s behaviour the night of Mr.Tracy’s death. That girl would never invent a story so wildly improbableas the tale of Miss Remsen jumping from the window into the lake.”

  “You’ll have to admit all March says is true, Gray,” Keeley said to me,his fine face drawn with deepest concern. “And also the stories Posy Mayhas told us. They bear the stamp of truth, and they are all humanevidence, not merely circumstantial. Now, I will tell you the conclusionthat I have been obliged to arrive at. And that is, that Alma Remsen isindeed afflicted. Not with epilepsy but with a far more serious malady. Imean dementia praecox. This is a terrible statement to make, but I amsure it is the only diagnosis that fits the case. As you may or may notknow, that condition may be in existence yet remain unknown andunsuspected by those nearest and dearest to the patient.”

  “No!” I cried, recoiling from the thought of horrors that this ideaconjured up. “That lovely girl——”

  “You know nothing about the disease, Gray,” Keeley said, patiently. “Ididn’t know much about it myself, until I read it up, which I have justdone. It has many forms and phases, but there are some symptomsinseparable from the conditions. For instance, and this is the thing thatimpressed me from the very first. You remember I said the watch in thewater pitcher was the keynote. Well, I had a vague idea, and my recentstudy has corroborated it, that victims of this dread disease almostinvariably throw a watch into a jar or pail of water if they get achance. That is a common peculiarity, and all the queer work aroundTracy’s deathbed points unmistakably to a mind disordered by dementiapraecox and nothing else. Epilepsy won’t do. That is a different disease.But the feather duster, the flowers, the waistcoat business, the TotemPole, and more than all, the fatal nail, all indicate the same thing.Now, this disease has the strange quality of becoming evident at times,and then disappearing so utterly that no one would suspect its presencein the person affected. March and I have concluded that Alma Remsen is avictim of this horrible curse and that her actions are in no way of herown volition during the attacks of the dementia.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, after a straight glance into Keeley’ssympathetic eyes, “but I suppose I must take your word for it. However,it makes no difference in my love and loyalty to Alma, but I want to getat the truth. Now if it is true, her doctor must know about it. And Ican’t think Doctor Rogers would have gone off and left her if there wasdanger of attacks of such a sort.”

  “That’s the way it seemed to me,” Keeley said. “Now, listen, Gray, andwe’ll tell you all. We have tried to think Alma is shielding somebody,somebody maybe that is a victim of dementia praecox. We thought of thetwo Merivales and we considered their daughter, Dora. Any of the threeare possible, you see. Then, owing to some things March noticed whenmaking his search at Whistling Reeds, we had a new suspicion. He observedtwo breakfast trays, in the pantry cupboard, that had the general effectof being in frequent use and the dining table was used for two. Heobserved a can of cocoa, though he had been told that Miss Remsen hadalways coffee for her breakfast. He thought the guest room showed signsof being in use when there was no acknowledged company there. Indeed, hebrought that lot of stuff on the table from the guest room waste basket.As you see, there are bits of jewellery and a lot of beads and such oddsand ends. Those are the things a demented person throws away. Also, thereare bits of the waistcoats that have been so much talked about. Well, wecame to the conclusion that there was another inmate of that house besideAlma Remsen. Some relative or friend she was shielding, or perhaps thenurse or her daughter. Again, it might be a man, say, an unacknowledgedbrother or cousin, whose very existence had been kept secret. Anyway,there was a very decided mystery to be unravelled at Whistling Reeds. Butthen, Posy May’s stories and Jennie’s, too, brought it all back to Almaherself, and while we hated to do it we had to find out. And the surestway was through Doctor Rogers. So I telegraphed him at a dozen or moredifferent places where he might possibly be found, and one of them hitits mark.”

  Keeley drew a telegram from his pocket and passed it over to me. Itsounded cryptic, for it ran thus:

  YES A R VICTIM OF D P RECORDS IN MY SAFE LINCOLN HOLDS KEY.

  “And so,” March said, rising, “we are just going over to the office ofDoctor Rogers to investigate the matter. You may go or not, as you wish.”

  “Don’t go, Gray,” Lora said, gently. “It is not necessary and will onlycause you suffering. Keeley will tell you all when he comes back. Youstay here with me.”

  “Thank you, Lora, dear,” I said, “but I must go. I must know everydevelopment as it takes
place. I’m a little dazed with this news from thedoctor, but I can’t help feeling there’s a mistake somewhere. It can’t bethat Alma——”

  I stopped suddenly, for I remembered seeing her on the lake that night,and hearing her say afterward that she never went on the lake in theevening. Then, when she had these attacks, she acted without knowledge ofwhat she was doing. If she had, under these conditions, killed her uncle,she was of course in no way responsible, and would not be held so.

  Maud and Lora looked sorrowfully after us, and we three went down thepath to the drive and got into Keeley’s car.

  At Doctor Rogers’s office we found his assistant in charge. He had but afew of the doctor’s cases to look after and these were the simpler ones.Serious matters had been placed in the hands of more skilledpractitioners, and some few important ones, we were told, were given overto specialists.

  March showed him the telegram and asked what it meant.

  “Well,” said Doctor Greenway, a pleasant-faced young man, “I guess I canhelp you out on that. My orders are to meet the wishes of any onebringing a telegram couched in that language. As you have doubtlessdeduced,” he smiled at the detective, “it means the key to the safe ishidden——”

  “Behind Lincoln’s picture,” cried Kee, before March could speak.

  “Yes,” smiled the young man, his eyes following ours to the largeengraving of Lincoln on the wall.

  He stepped up on a chair, turned the frame from the wall a little, andfrom an envelope pasted on the back of the picture he extracted a paper.

  “This is the combination,” he explained, “which is what he means by key.”

  Following the message on the paper, he twirled the dials, and soon openedthe safe.

  “I will leave you to your investigations,” he said. “This must be animportant matter, or Doctor Rogers wouldn’t have sent that information.Those are his case books, I leave them in your charge. When you arefinished with them I will return and close the safe again. I shall be inthe next room.”

  He went out and closed the door, and we looked into the safe, wonderingwhat secret it would divulge.

  So well was everything labelled and indexed that we had no trouble at allin finding the pages marked Remsen.

  Keeley and March did the research work, I sitting idly by, but alert tolearn their findings.

  In a moment, I saw the utmost surprise and excitement manifest on theirfaces. They read from the same page, silently, eagerly, and then Keeleylifted his head, and with a look of pure joy on his face cried out:

  “Take heart, Gray, Alma is all right!”

  My heart almost stopped beating. I couldn’t speak, but my whole soulseemed to go out in a great prayer of gratitude that swallowed up allother emotion. I did not hasten them or beg for further disclosures; Iknew they would come in good time.

  At last they gave over reading and turned to look at one another withnods of understanding.

  Then Keeley turned to me, and said, concisely:

  “Gray, the dementia praecox patient is not Alma, but her sister—her twinsister, Alda. This twin did not die as a child, but lived, afflicted withthis terrible disease. The mother of the little girl was so overcome withgrief and shame, that she pretended the child had died, and had thelittle grave made to give credence to the story.”

  “Alda?” I said, dully, not quite taking it in. “That isn’t a name——”

  “It is the name of Alma’s twin, anyway,” March said, grasping me by theshoulder, none too gently. “Wake up, man, you have something to live fornow! Listen to me. Alma’s twin sister is in the house at Whistling Reeds,and has been there all the time. While their mother was alive she keptthe girls at Pleasure Dome, Alma openly and Alda secretly. No one knew ofthe sister’s existence except the three Merivales and Griscom and Mrs.Fenn.

  “They were bound to secrecy by Sampson Tracy, and he knew how to commandobedience. Of course, Tracy and Alma knew all. Then, when Alma’s motherdied, she left Alda as a sacred trust, and Alma has devoted her life tothe afflicted twin. You see, Alda is normal and sane the greater part ofthe time. But she cannot be allowed to know people for there is notelling when the spasms will come on. And when they do there is notreatment necessary save to control and soothe her. The Merivales, withAlma, look after that, and much of the time the two girls are together.”

  “Now, you see the truth of March’s deductions that there was anotherinmate of the Whistling Reeds’ house,” Keeley said. “Where they keep her,I don’t know, but——”

  “Let’s go right over there,” March suggested. “It’s only fair to end MissAlma’s misery and suspense as soon as possible.”

  Still dazed and wondering, I watched the others recall Doctor Greenwayand give him back the paper he had produced, and then we went away—backto Keeley’s place, and into a boat and over to Whistling Reeds with allpossible speed.

  The glum boatmaster greeted us surlily, as usual, but March paid noattention and made straight for the house.

  His ring was answered by Merry herself, and she looked very perturbed andanxious.

  “I’m glad you’ve come, gentlemen,” she said. “We are in great trouble.”

  It was then that I took the helm. As Alma’s fiancé, for I so consideredmyself, it was my right and my duty to take matters in charge.

  “Mrs. Merivale,” I said, simply, “we know all about Miss Alda.”

  She staggered back a step and then a look of relief passed over herstrong, gaunt face.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, apparently accustomed to accept the word of hersuperiors. “Then you can advise us, sir. Miss Alda is took very bad.”

  “Do you want a doctor?” asked March, hurriedly.

  “No, sir, a doctor can do nothing—nothing at all.”

  “What can we do?” Keeley asked, eagerly.

  “I don’t know yet—perhaps if you’d just wait down here, till I see howshe is now——”

  “Merry,” called a man’s voice from upstairs, and she hurried away.

  I recognized the tones of John Merivale and I did not offer to goupstairs with the nurse, knowing she would call us, if necessary.

  I longed to be with Alma, to comfort and care for her, but I could notintrude uninvited.

  But after we had waited perhaps a half hour, Alma came downstairs and outto the porch where we sat.

  She was composed, but with a new sadness in her eyes and a new droop toher lovely lips.

  “I will tell you all,” she said, quietly, as she sat down, opposite tothe three of us. “Since you know of my sister’s existence, there is nomore occasion for secrecy.”

  “Take it easy, Miss Remsen,” said March, with well-meant kindness, andKeeley rose, and then went and sat beside her.

  I had an instant’s flash of jealousy, then realized it was better so.This ordeal had to be gone through with, and were I near her, I shouldhave been unable to resist the impulse to clasp her in my arms in spiteof the others’ presence.

  Kee seemed to give her courage by his sympathy, and she began her story.

  “I am so alone,” she prefaced it, “that I must tell it all in my own way.It is a strange story, but here are the facts. When my sister and I hadscarlet fever, she did not die, but she at that time began to showsymptoms of dementia praecox. My mother learned this, and knew theinevitable progress and end of the malady. So she declared that herlittle girl was dead to her and dead to the world, and should remain so,apparently. She therefore, with the knowledge and permission of UncleSampson, pretended that the child had died, and ever after kept herhidden from all but the few servants who knew about it. Uncle Sampson wasvery kind; I learned later that he thought my mother demented also andthat’s why he humoured her so. But she was not, Doctor Rogers will tellyou that. The years went by, and while my mother made a pretense ofsorrowing for her dead child and often visited the little grave, she hadgreat solace in taking care of my twin, Alda, and doing everything tomake her life happy and pleasant. At Pleasure Dome, the grounds and houseare so e
normous it was not difficult to keep up the pretence and all wentwell until my mother died. As she left Alda to me, with an injunction toguard her as my life, I have tried to do all I could to obey her wishes.And I managed beautifully until Uncle Sampson wanted to marry and bring awife home. There was only one thing to do, so we did it. I moved over tothis secluded spot, and lived here, keeping Alda’s existence still asecret. The trouble came when Uncle Sampson determined to tell Mrs.Dallas about Alda. Uncle thought it dishonourable not to tell her, and Ifeared if she knew it, the secret would be a secret no longer. Uncle andI quarrelled about this, the last time I ever saw him.”

  Emotion almost overcame Alma at this point, but she bravely controlledherself and went on.

  “I told Merry about the quarrel, and Alda chanced to overhear me. Youmust realize that when she is not in the attacks of dementia she is assane as you or I. But she got it into her head that Uncle Sampson hadoffended or injured me, and she resolved, I’ve learned from her since,that she would avenge that insult. Never before had she been inclined tohomicidal mania, never did we think of her as becoming menacing ordangerous—Doctor Rogers would not have left her except that he thoughtshe would go right along as she has been for years. A fit of fierce angernow and then, or a mad tempest of rage and foolish actions, alwaysfollowed by a period of exhaustion and many days of languor. But thistime, the disease took a new turn, and Alda went over to Pleasure Dome,taking my key to let herself in. Like all unbalanced brains, hers has acrafty slyness and she is very cunning when she wishes to be. She, I knownow, for she has told me, read a story about a man who was killed by anail driven in his head. Her poor, distorted mind chose to imitate thatact, and she took with her a nail and a mallet. She did kill UncleSampson, as he slept, she put all those strange things round about him,she threw his watch in the water pitcher—she is always throwing thingsaway—and then she took the waistcoats, which she coveted, for her fancywork, the Totem Pole, which she admired, and finding his door locked—shehad locked it herself—she stepped up on the window sill and dived intothe lake. She is a perfect mermaid in the water; she can dive anywhereand swim for any length of time and under any conditions.”

  “She had thrown out the waistcoats first?” asked March.

  “Had she? I daresay. She was a little lame just then, having twisted herankle a bit, but she swam to her canoe, got in it and paddled home insafety.”

  “You didn’t miss her while she was absent?” Keeley inquired,interestedly.

  “No, indeed. She hadn’t been out at night lately, though at one time shedid have the habit. She usually occupies the guest room, but when I havefriends staying here, we keep her in a room in the third story. It is apleasant room, but soundproof and securely barred. She was there duringthe funeral.”

  “Then you knew nothing of the tragedy until next day?”

  “Nothing. And even then, when Mrs. Fenn called up and told me, I didn’tthink of Alda. I supposed it was heart failure or apoplexy. But when Ilearned of the nail I suspected the truth, and later, Alda told me all.She has no regret—I mean, her sense of right and wrong is so clouded nowthat she cannot think clearly. Her mentality has dwindled rapidly oflate, and even now—she is sleeping after a sedative—I think she will notrecover her mind to the extent of sanity she has shown of late. I’m notsure I am telling you this so you can understand it, but I am so stunned,so dazed to think the time has come to tell it, that I want only to tellit truthfully and all at once, I don’t want to have to go over itagain——”

  Merivale appeared in the doorway.

  “Miss Alma,” she said, gravely, and in solemn tone, “Miss Alda is going.”

  Alma rose, not hastily, but with a sweet dignity, and turning to me,said: “Come with me, Gray.”

  It was like a chrism; I felt sanctified to be chosen to stand at her sidein this supreme moment.

  The others followed us, but I did not know it then.

  Alma and I went up the stairs together and she turned toward the guestroom.

  There on the bed lay the counterpart of my own darling. I knew now thatit was Alda whom I had seen that night in the canoe; it was Alda whomPosy May and her friends had seen in tantrums with the nurse, it was Aldawho—poor demented, irresponsible child—had killed Sampson Tracy, in blindimitation of the story she had read about the nail.

  She was beautiful, even as Alma was beautiful, but the light in her eyeswas not the light of reason, rather the weird light of visions seen by adeficient mentality. But even as we looked, the restless eyes closed, therestless body subsided into stillness, and a coma set in, from which AldaRemsen never awakened.

  We sent for a doctor, but there was nothing to be done, and though shelingered for two days, the spirit was at last set free, Alda wasreleased, and Alma’s long and ghastly term of servitude was over.

  It has ever since been my pleasure and duty to bring only sunshine intothat life that knew no real sunshine for many long years.

  Alma felt she never wanted to see Pleasure Dome again, so the place wassold and we travelled in many lands, returning at last to found a homefar removed from any memories of painful association.

  The Moores are still our dearest friends, and the Merivales our staunchhenchmen and caretakers; while Alma and I, sufficient to one another,take for our motto: “All for Love, and the World Well Lost!”

  THE END

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