CHAPTER XIII.
DESPAIR.
Was it? Tragedies as unpremeditated as this had doubtless occurred, andinconsistencies in character shown themselves in similar impetuosities,from the beginning of time up till now. Yet there was not a man present,with or without the memory of Bartow's pantomime, which, as you willrecall, did not tally at all with this account of Mr. Adams's violentend, who did not show in a greater or less degree his distrust andevident disbelief in this tale, poured out with such volubility beforethem.
The young man, gifted as he was with the keenest susceptibilities,perceived this, and his head drooped.
"I shall add nothing to and take nothing from what I have said," was hisdogged remark. "Make of it what you will."
The inspector who was conducting the inquiry glanced dubiously at Mr.Gryce as these words left Thomas Adams's lips; whereupon the detectivesaid:
"We are sorry you have taken such a resolution. There are many thingsyet left to be explained, Mr. Adams; for instance, why, if your brotherslew himself in this unforeseen manner, you left the house soprecipitately, without giving an alarm or even proclaiming yourrelationship to him?"
"You need not answer, you know," the inspector's voice broke in. "No manis called upon to incriminate himself in this free and independentcountry."
A smile, the saddest ever seen, wandered for a minute over theprisoner's pallid lips. Then he lifted his head and replied with acertain air of desperation:
"Incrimination is not what I fear now. From the way you all look at me Iperceive that I am lost, for I have no means of proving my story."
This acknowledgment, which might pass for the despairing cry of aninnocent man, made his interrogator stare.
"You forget," suggested that gentleman, "that you had your wife withyou. She can corroborate your words, and will prove herself, no doubt,an invaluable witness in your favor."
"My wife!" he repeated, choking so that his words could be barelyunderstood. "Must she be dragged into this--so sick, so weak a woman? Itwould kill her, sir. She loves me--she----"
"Was she with you in Mr. Adams's study? Did she see him lift the daggeragainst his own breast?"
"No." And with this denial the young man seemed to take new courage."She had fainted several moments previously, while the altercationbetween my brother and myself was at its height. She did not see thefinal act, and--gentlemen, I might as well speak the truth (I havenothing to gain by silence), she finds it as difficult as you do tobelieve that Mr. Adams struck himself. I--I have tried with all my artsto impress the truth upon her, but oh, what can I hope from the worldwhen the wife of my bosom--an angel, too, who loves me--oh, sirs, shecan never be a witness for me; she is too conscientious, too true to herown convictions. I should lose--she would die----"
Mr. Gryce tried to stop him; he would not be stopped.
"Spare me, sirs! Spare my wife! Write me down guilty, anything youplease, rather than force that young creature to speak----"
Here the inspector cut short these appeals which were rending everyheart present. "Have you read the newspapers for the last few days?" heasked.
"I? Yes, yes, sir. How could I help it? Blood is blood; the man was mybrother; I had left him dying--I was naturally anxious, naturally saw myown danger, and I read them, of course."
"Then you know he was found with a large cross on his breast, a crosswhich was once on the wall. How came it to be torn down? Who put it onhis bosom?"
"I, sir. I am not a Catholic but Felix was, and seeing him dying withoutabsolution, without extreme unction, I thought of the holy cross, andtore down the only one I saw, and placed it in his arms."
"A pious act. Did he recognize it?"
"I cannot say. I had my fainting wife to look after. She occupied all mythoughts."
"I see, and you carried her out and were so absorbed in caring for heryou did not observe Mr. Adams's valet----"
"He's innocent, sir. Whatever people may think, he had nothing to dowith this crime----"
"You did not observe him, I say, standing in the doorway and watchingyou?"
Now the inspector knew that Bartow had not been standing there, but atthe loophole above; but the opportunity for entrapping the witness wastoo good to lose.
Mr. Adams was caught in the trap, or so one might judge from the beadsof perspiration which at that moment showed themselves on his paleforehead. But he struggled to maintain the stand he had taken, cryinghotly:
"But that man is crazy, and deaf-and-dumb besides! or so the papers giveout. Surely his testimony is valueless. You would not confront me withhim?"
"We confront you with no one. We only asked you a question. You did notobserve the valet, then?"
"No, sir."
"Or understand the mystery of the colored lights?"
"No, sir."
"Or of the plate of steel and the other contrivances with which yourbrother enlivened his solitude?"
"I do not follow you, sir." But there was a change in his tone.
"I see," said the inspector, "that the complications which havedisturbed us and made necessary this long delay in the collection oftestimony have not entered into the crime as described by you. Now thisis possible; but there is still a circumstance requiring explanation; alittle circumstance, which is, nevertheless, one of importance, sinceyour wife mentioned it to you as soon as she became conscious. I alludeto the half dozen or more words which were written by your brotherimmediately preceding his death. The paper on which they were writtenhas been found, and that it was a factor in your quarrel is evident,since she regretted that it had been left behind you, and he--Do youknow where we found this paper?"
The eyes which young Adams raised at this interrogatory had nointelligence in them. The sight of this morsel of paper seemed to havedeprived him in an instant of all the faculties with which he had beencarrying on this unequal struggle. He shook his head, tried to reach outhis hand, but failed to grasp the scrap of paper which the inspectorheld out. Then he burst into a loud cry:
"Enough! I cannot hold out, with no other support than a wicked lie. Ikilled my brother for reasons good as any man ever had for killinganother. But I shall not impart them. I would rather be tried for murderand hanged."
It was a complete breakdown, pitiful from its contrast with the man'sherculean physique and fine, if contracted, features. If the end, it wasa sad end, and Mr. Gryce, whose forehead had taken on a deep linebetween the eyebrows, slowly rose and took his stand by the young man,who looked ready to fall. The inspector, on the contrary, did not move.He had begun a tattoo with his fingers on the table, and seemed bound tobeat it out, when another sudden cry broke from the young man's lips:
"What is that?" he demanded, with his eyes fixed on the door, and hiswhole frame shaking violently.
"Nothing," began the inspector, when the door suddenly opened and thefigure of a woman white as a wraith and wonderful with a sort of holypassion darted from the grasp of a man who sought to detain her, andstood before them, palpitating with a protest which for a moment sheseemed powerless to utter.
It was Adams's young, invalid wife, whom he had left three hours beforeat Belleville. She was so frail of form, so exquisite of feature, thatshe would have seemed some unearthly visitant but for the human anguishwhich pervaded her look and soon found vent in this touching cry:
"What is he saying? Oh, I know well what he is saying. He is saying thathe killed his brother, that he held the dagger which rid the world of amonster of whose wickedness none knew. But you must not heed him. Indeedyou must not heed him. He is innocent; I, his wife, have come twentymiles, from a bed of weakness and suffering, to tell you so. He----"
But here a hand was laid gently, but firmly on her mouth. She looked up,met her husband's eyes filled with almost frantic appeal, and giving hima look in return that sank into the heart of every man who beheld it,laid her own hand on his and drew it softly away.
"It is too late, Tom, I must speak. My father, my own weakness, or yourown peremptory commands
could not keep me at Belleville when I knew youhad been brought here. And shall I stop now, in the presence of thesemen who have heard your words and may believe them? No, that would be acowardice unworthy of our love and the true lives we hope to leadtogether. Sirs!" and each man there held his breath to catch the wordswhich came in faint and fainter intonation from her lips, "I know myhusband to be innocent, because the hand that held the dagger was mine.I killed Felix Cadwalader!"
* * * * *
The horror of such a moment is never fully realized till afterward. Nota man there moved, not even her husband, yet on every cheek a slowpallor was forming, which testified to the effect of such words fromlips made for smiles and showing in every curve the habit of gentlethought and the loftiest instincts. Not till some one cried out from thedoorway, "Catch her! she is falling!" did any one stir or release thepent-up breath which awe and astonishment had hitherto held back onevery lip. Then he in whose evident despair all could read the realcause of the great dread which had drawn him into a false confession,sprang forward, and with renewed life showing itself in every feature,caught her in his arms. As he staggered with her to a sofa and laid hersoftly down, he seemed another man in look and bearing; and Mr. Gryce,who had been watching the whole wonderful event with the strongestinterest, understood at once the meaning of the change which had comeover his prisoner at that point in his memorable arrest when he firstrealized that it was for himself they had come, and not for the reallyguilty person, the idolized object of his affections.
Meanwhile, he was facing them all, with one hand laid tenderly on thatunconscious head.
"Do not think," he cried, "that because this young girl has steeped herhand in blood, she is a wicked woman. There is no purer heart on earththan hers, and none more worthy of the worship of a true man. See! shekilled my brother, son of my father, beloved by my mother, yet I cankiss her hand, kiss her forehead, her eyes, her feet, not because I hatehim, but because I worship her, the purest--the best----" He left her,and came and stood before those astonished men. "Sirs!" he cried, "Imust ask you to listen to a strange, a terrible tale."
The Circular Study Page 13
