by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER V
AFTERWARDS
Never before had any event created such a sensation in the village ofRickwell. From the choir boy and his mother the news quickly spread.Also Giles had to call in the aid of the rector to have the body of theunfortunate girl carried to The Elms. In a short time the churchyard wasfilled with wondering people, and quite a cortege escorted the corpse.It was like the rehearsal of a funeral procession.
Mrs. Morley had gone to bed, thinking the two girls might be reconciledin church and come home together. Her husband, not so sanguine, hadremained in the library till after midnight, ready to play the part ofpeace-maker should any fracas occur. He appeared in the hall when poordead Daisy was carried through the door, and stared in surprise at thespectacle.
"Great heavens!" he cried, coming forward, his ruddy face pale withsudden emotion. "What is all this?"
Giles took upon himself the office of spokesman, which the rector,remembering that he had been engaged to the deceased, tacitly delegatedto him.
"It's poor Daisy," he said hoarsely. "She has been--"
"Murdered! No. Don't say murdered!"
"Yes, we found her lying on her father's grave, dead; a knife-thrustunder the left shoulder-blade. She must have died almostinstantaneously."
"Dead!" muttered Morley, ghastly white. And he approached to take thehandkerchief from the dead face. "Dead!" he repeated, replacing it. Thenhe looked at the haggard face of Ware, at the silent group of men andthe startled women standing in the doorway, where the rector was keepingthem back.
"Where is her murderess?" he asked sharply.
"Murderess!" repeated Giles angrily. "What do you mean?"
"Mean? Why, that Miss Denham has done this, and----"
"You are mad to say such a thing."
"I'll tax her with it to her face. Where is she? Not at home, for I havebeen waiting to see her."
"She's run way on Mr. Ware's motor-car," volunteered Trim, only to beclutched violently by his master.
"Don't say that, you fool. You can't be sure of that, Mr. Morley," headded, turning to the scared man. "Make no remark about this until wecan have a quiet talk about it."
"But I say----"
"You can say it to the police officer in the morning."
"She'll have escaped by that time," whispered Trim to his master.
Giles saw the danger of Anne--supposing her to be guilty, as the groomthought her--and made up his mind at once.
"Go home, Trim, and saddle a couple of horses. We'll follow the track ofthe car, and when we find it----"
"You'll never find it," put in Morley, who had been listening with allhis ears. "The falling snow must have obliterated any wheel-marks bythis time. When did this occur?"
"I don't know," replied Giles coldly. "And instead of chattering there,you had better have the--the--" he stammered, "the body taken into someroom and attended to. Poor Daisy," he sighed, "what an end to yourbright young life!"
Here Mr. Drake, the rector, thought it necessary to assert himself, andwaved aside the throng.
"All you men and women, go to your homes," he said. "Nothing can be doneto-night, and----"
"The car might be followed," said a voice.
"And the car will be followed," said Giles, pushing his way to the door."Come, Trim, we'll ride at once. Did no one see the car pass out of thevillage?"
No one had seen it, as most of the villagers had been inside the churchand the rest in their homes.
There was some talk and suggestions, but Ware, with a nod to Morley,took a hasty departure and disappeared into the stormy night.
"He might track the car," said the rector.
"He won't," replied Morley bitterly; "he'll lead Trim on a wrong scent.He liked Miss Denham too well to let her drop into the hands of thepolice."
"Then you really think she did it?" asked Drake, horrified.
"I am perfectly certain," was the reply. "Come into the library, andI'll show you what evidence I have."
Meantime the hall was cleared of the eager listeners, and all presentwent to their homes less to sleep than to argue as to the guilt orinnocence of Anne. The body of the girl was taken to her bedroom, andpoor scared Mrs. Morley, roused from her bed to face this tragedy, didall that was needful, assisted by two old women, who remained behind tooffer their services. This was all that could be done till dawn, andMrs. Morley, thinking of the dead Daisy and the missing Anne, wept tillthe first streaks of daylight. As yet her limited understanding couldnot grasp the horror of the thing.
Morley conducted Mr. Drake to the library. He related how his wife hadheard Anne threaten to kill Daisy, produced the anonymous letter,detailed Daisy's accusation that the governess was in love with Ware,and finally pointed out the damning fact of the flight. The rector wasquite convinced by this reasoning that Anne was guilty.
"And now I come to think of it," he said, stroking his shaven chin,"Miss Kent was in church."
"Yes, so was Miss Denham; but I don't think they sat together, as theywere on the worst possible terms. Did you see Daisy?"
Drake nodded. "She went out when I was half-way through my sermon. Iremember that I felt a little annoyed that she should leave when I wasdoing my best to inculcate good habits for the year in my congregation.She must have gone to pray at her father's grave, and there----" Drakestopped with sudden terror in his eyes.
"And there Miss Denham stabbed her. Ware said the wound was beneath theleft shoulder-blade. That looks as though Daisy was struck from behind.I can see it all," cried Morley, with a shudder. "The poor child prayingby her father's grave, and the stealthy approach of that woman armedwith a----"
"Ah!" interposed Drake, "there you are. We have not yet found theweapon; and after all, Morley, the evidence is purely circumstantial. Wedo not know for certain that Miss Denham is the guilty person."
"Why did she fly, then?" demanded Morley fiercely. "If she wereinnocent--if she had not left the church until the others did--she wouldhave returned, and now been in bed. But from what Trim says she fled onWare's motor-car."
"Humph! She can't get far on that. Such a night, too."
And the rector walked to the window to watch the still falling snow.
Morley shook his head. "Miss Denham knows the country for miles andmiles, and Ware taught her how to drive the motor. I shouldn't besurprised if she got away after all, in spite of the weather."
Drake looked uneasy, and placed himself before the fire with a shiver.He rather admired Miss Denham, and could not yet bring himself tobelieve that she was guilty. Even if she were, he cherished a secrethope that she might escape the police. It was terrible to think that onewoman should be dead, but it was more awful to look forward to thetrial, condemnation, and hanging of the other.
"I blame Ware a good deal for this," continued Morley gloomily. "Heopenly admired Miss Denham, and encouraged her to flirt with him. A rashthing to do to one who has negro blood in her veins. I expect passioncarried her beyond herself."
"How do you know she has negro blood?"
"She said so herself."
"Did you know that when you engaged her?"
"I never engaged her at all, Drake. My wife did. I must say that MissDenham's credentials were good. She had been governess in an Italianfamily, and ha!----" He stopped suddenly, and started up. "In Italy shemight have procured a stiletto. From the nature of the wound--which issmall and deep--I should think it was inflicted with such a weapon."
"How do you know that the wound is small and deep?"
"My wife told me when she came to the door that time. You did not hearher. She says the wound is quite small. In that case it must be deep, orthe death would not have occurred so suddenly."
Drake shook his head. "We don't know that it did occur suddenly."
Morley contradicted this angrily. "If Daisy had not died at once shewould have had time to shriek, and the cry would have been heard in thechurch."
"I doubt it. The people were deeply interested in my sermon."
> The other man shrugged his shoulders. It was scarcely worth whilearguing this point with the rector. He relapsed into a brown study,until roused to reply to a question asked by his guest.
"Have you ever seen a stiletto?" asked Drake.
"I have one here," replied Morley, running his eye along the wall; "onethat I got in Italy myself. It was said to have belonged to LucreziaBorgia. I wonder where it is."
"Rather difficult to discover it amidst all these weapons, Mr. Morley.Good heavens! what is the matter?"
He might well ask. His host was clutching his arm in a vice-like hold,and was pointing to a certain part of the wall whereon hung a pair ofancient pistols, a crusader's shield, and an old helmet.
"The stiletto was there. It is gone!" gasped Morley.
"Impossible. Who can have taken it?"
"Miss Denham! Miss Denham! Oh, and you believe her to be innocent!"cried the other. "She came into this very room at nine o'clock, or alittle after. I was outside on the terrace seeing a visitor off. Shewas alone in the room for a time. She must have taken the weapon."
"No, no; why should she have?"
"Because she intended to murder my poor Daisy. It was all arranged inher black heart. Drake," he added solemnly, "I have done my best tobelieve that woman innocent. I defended her against Daisy, and my wifedefended her also. We tried to believe that she had no ill intention,and see--see what comes of it. She steals the stiletto, and kills thechild in the most brutal manner. I swear to hunt her down. I swear----!"
The rector caught down the uplifted hand which Morley was raising to theheavens. "Be yourself," he said sternly; "there is no need for a man tocall upon God to witness a blood-thirsty oath. If the woman is guilty,let her be punished. But give her the benefit of the doubt. Appearancesare against her, I admit. All the same, she may be able to prove herinnocence."
"You might as well talk to the wind as to me. She is a murderess; I'lldo my best to have her hanged."
Morley spoke with such vehemence that Drake looked closely at him. Hewondered if the man had any grudge against Anne Denham that he spoke ofher with such bitterness. Certainly her crime was a terrible one, andshe deserved to be condemned. But it would only be fair that she shouldbe first tried. Morley, on the contrary, had already judged her, withoutwaiting to hear what she had to say in her own favor.
"Well, Mr. Morley, there is nothing more to be said," he remarkedcoldly, for he disliked this melodrama; "we must wait till the policecome in the morning. Meanwhile I shall go to my home and get somesleep."
"I can't sleep with that in the house," replied Morley, abruptly rising;"I'll go with you."
"Where?"
"To the churchyard--to the grave. I intend to look for the weapon. Itmay have been left there--tossed aside by the assassin after the crime."
"But the night is dark--the snow is falling. You will not be able to doanything. Be advised, and----"
"No. I'll come with you now. If I find nothing, it is all the better forher. If I do----" He shook his hand again fiercely.
Drake argued no longer, seeing that the man's brain was in such a statethat it was best to humor him. They went out together, but at thechurch-gate Drake excused himself and retired to his home. He had nowish to see Morley groping amongst the graves like a ghost. Pausinguntil the little man disappeared into the gloom, the rector went to hishouse, wondering at the sudden change in Morley's character. He had beena light-hearted and rather frivolous creature; fond of gaiety andoverflowing with the milk of human kindness. Now he was fierce andsavage enough for a Caliban. "He must have loved that poor girl verydearly," sighed Drake, "but I can't believe that such a charming womanas Miss Denham committed so cruel a crime. There is some mystery aboutthis," and in this last speech he was right. There was a mystery aboutthe death, and a much deeper one than a shallow man like the rectorcould fathom.
All through the long night Mrs. Morley watched by the dead. She hadplaced candles on either side of the bed, and laid a cross on the poorchild's breast. Drake was quite shocked when he saw this Papisticalarrangement. But it afterwards came out that Mrs. Morley had beeneducated in a convent, and had imbibed certain notions of the Romishritual for the dead that, her memory reviving, made her act thus, inspite of her openly confessed belief in the communion of the EnglishChurch. While she was thus sitting and weeping, Morley looked in. He waswild and haggard, but in his eyes glared a triumphant expression whichterrified his wife. She did not dare to move. He crossed the room, andlooked at the body. "You shall be avenged, my dear," he said solemnly,and before Mrs. Morley could recover from her surprise and denounce thisill-chosen moment for a visit, he wheeled round and disappeared.
He did not retire either, no more did the servants, who were collectedin the kitchen steadying their nerves with tea. So it happened that whenGiles, weary, wet, and worn, rode up to the door in the morning on ajaded beast, he was met by Morley.
"Have you caught her?" asked the man.
Giles dismounted and threw the reins to a groom. "No. Trim went one wayand I another. Where he is I don't know, but my horse gave in, and Ireturned." He entered the house. "Where is the body?" he asked.
"Up in the room it occupied during life," said Morley; "but come intothe library, I have something to show you."
Ware followed and sank wearily into a chair. He could scarcely keep hiseyes open. Nevertheless he started up wide awake when his host spoke."Miss Denham killed Daisy," said Morley. "She took a stiletto from thewall yonder, and here it is." He produced it with a dramatic wave.
"Where did you find it?"
"Beside the grave--on the spot of the murder."
