CHAPTER XXXII
"Of course the family was horribly shocked and upset by this sudden andmysterious interruption to the dream of peace," went on the Captain;"but nothing was left but to accept the verdict of 'Death from unknowncauses,' and to believe it the will of God. The body was buried a fewdays later, and, comforting each other as best they could, the sorrowinguncle and heart-broken nieces and nephews settled down to living theirlives without the one who had been the sunshine of the home, and whoseloss seemed the greatest blow that could have been dealt them. A monthpassed and they were just beginning to forget details of the tragedywhen a second and equally mysterious and horrifying one occurred, andthe eldest son of the dead woman--Philip--was stricken down precisely ashis mother had been, and, as his horrified brother, sisters, and unclenow recalled, like her, on the tenth day of the month!"
"Hum-m-m!" said Cleek, reflectively. "Rather significant, that. It was,I assume, that circumstance which first suggested the idea of somethingmore than mere chance being at the back of these sudden and mysteriousdeaths?"
"That and one other circumstance. The condition of the bedclothing, Mr.Cleek, showed that in Philip's case there had been something in thenature of a struggle before he had succumbed to the Power which hadassailed him. In other words, he had not been, as doubtless the poormother had, so infinitely inferior in point of strength to the murdereras to be absolutely powerless in the wretch's grip from the very firstinstant of the attack. He had fought for his life, poor fellow, but itmust have been a brief fight and death itself almost instantaneous; foralthough the bedclothing was tangled round his feet in a manner whichcould only have occurred in a struggle, he did not live long enough toget off the bed itself or slide so much as one foot to the floor. Hedied as his mother had died, and the verdict of the doctors and of thecoroner's jury was the same: 'Death from unknown causes'!"
"Hm-m-m!" said Cleek again. "And were all the symptoms--or, rather, theabsence of symptoms--the same?"
"Precisely. All the organs were discovered to be in a normal condition,the blood was untainted by any suggestion of either mineral or animalpoison, the heart was sound, the lungs healthy--there was neither aninternal disturbance nor an external wound, unless one could call a'wound' a slight, a very slight, swelling upon the left side of theneck; a small thing, not so big as a sixpence."
"And appearing very much like the inflammation resulting from the biteof a gnat or a spider, Captain?"
"Exactly like it, Mr. Cleek. In fact, the doctors fancied at first thatit was the result of his having been bitten by some poisonous insect,and were for accounting for his death that way. But, of course, theentire absence of poison in the blood soon put an end to that idea, soit was certain that whatever he died from, it was not from a bite or asting of any sort."
"Clever chaps, those doctors," commented Cleek with a curious one-sidedsmile. "However, they were quite correct in that, I imagine, poison,either animal, vegetable, or mineral, was not the means of destruction.Still, I should have thought that at this second post-mortem thelikeness of the son's case to that of the mother's would have impelledthem to extra vigilance, and resulted in a much more careful searching,and minute examination of the viscera. If my theory is correct, I do notsuppose they would have found anything in the contents of the thorax orthe abdomen, but it is just possible that analysis of the matter removedfrom the cranial cavity might have revealed a small blood-clot in thebrain."
The Captain twitched up his eyebrows and stared at him in open-mouthedamazement.
"Of all the--By Jove! you know, this beats me! To think of your guessingthat!" he said. "As a matter of fact, that's precisely what they did do,Mr. Cleek. But as they couldn't arrive at any conclusion nor trace aprobable cause of its origin they were more in the dark than ever.Selwin, the local practitioner, was for putting it down as a case ofapoplexy on the strength of that small blood-clot, but as there was anentire absence of every other symptom of apoplectic conditions the otherdoctors scouted the suggestion as preposterous--pointed out thegenerally healthy state of the brain and of the heart, lungs, arterialwalls, _et cetera_, as utterly refuting such a theory--and in the endthe verdict on the son was the verdict given on the mother: 'Death fromunknown causes'; and he was buried as she had been buried, with thesecret of the murder undiscovered."
"And then what, Captain?"
"What I have already told you, Mr. Cleek. Nothing under God's heavenwould or could persuade Mr. Harmstead to let his nieces and their twosurviving brothers remain another hour in that house of disaster. Heremoved them from it instantly--fled the very neighbourhood, hired ahouse down here--at Dalehampton; a dozen miles or so on the other sideof the Tor, yonder--and carried them there to live. The family nowconsisted of Miriam and Flora, the two girls, Paul, a boy ofthirteen--old Mr. Harmstead's special pride and pet--and Ronald, alittle chap of eleven. In this new home they hoped and prayed to be freefrom the horrible visitant who had made the memory of the old one anightmare to them, but--they couldn't forget, Mr. Cleek, what the Tenthof each month had taken from them, and grew sick with dread at thesteady approach of the Tenth of this one."
"And as this is the Twelfth," said Cleek, "the day before yesterday_was_ the Tenth. Did anything happen?"
"Yes," replied the Captain, his voice dropping until it was little morethan a whisper. "I tried to cheer them; Miss Lorne tried to cheer them.We sat with them, tried to make them think that our presence there wouldact as a shield and a guard--and tried to think so ourselves. But oldMr. Harmstead took even stronger measures. 'Nothing shall touchPaul--nothing that lives and breathes,' he said, desperately. 'I'll takehim into my room; I'll sit up with him in my arms all night!'"
"And did so?"
"Yes. At twelve o'clock, Miss Lorne, Miss Comstock, and I went in to saygood-night to him. He was sitting in a deep chair with the boy fastasleep in his arms--sitting and looking all about him with the dumbagony of a trapped mouse. I'll never forget how he clutched the boy tohim nor the cry he gave when the door opened to admit us, the sob ofrelief when he saw it was only us. His cry and his movement awoke theboy, but he dropped off to sleep again before I left, and was breathinghealthily and peacefully. The last look I had at the picture as I wentout, Mr. Cleek, the dear old chap was holding his pet in his arms andsmiling down into his boyish face. So he was still sitting, MissComstock tells me, when she came down this morning. 'Look,' he said toher, 'I watched him--I held him--the tenth day is past and the deathdidn't get him, my bonnie!' Then called her to his side and shook thelittle fellow to awaken him. It was then only that he discovered thetruth. The boy was stone-dead!"
Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces Page 35
