CHAPTER XVII.
DISCUSSES SEVERAL MATTERS.
Reader, I know that what I have narrated is astounding. It astoundedme just as it astounded you.
There are moments when one's brain becomes dulled by suddenbewilderment at sight of the absolutely impossible.
It certainly seemed beyond credence that the man whose fatal andmysterious wound I had myself examined should be there, walking withhis wife in lover-like attitude. And yet there was no question thatthe pair were there. A small bush separated us, so that they passedarm-in-arm within three feet of me. As I have already explained, themoon was so bright that I could see to read; therefore, shining fullupon their faces, it was impossible to mistake the features of twopersons whom I knew so well.
Fortunately they had not overheard my involuntary exclamation ofastonishment, or, if they had, both evidently believed it to be one ofthe many distorted sounds of the night. Upon Mary's face there wasrevealed a calm expression of perfect content, different indeed fromthe tearful countenance of a few hours before, while her husband,grey-faced and serious, just as he had been before his last illness,had her arm linked in his, and walked with her, whispering some lowindistinct words which brought to her lips a smile of perfectfelicity.
Now had I been a superstitious man I should have promptly declared thewhole thing to have been an apparition. But as I do not believe inborderland theories, any more than I believe that a man whose heart isnearly cut in twain can again breathe and live, I could only standaghast, bewildered and utterly dumfounded.
Hidden from them by a low thorn-bush, I stood in silent stupefactionas they passed by. That it was no chimera of the imagination wasproved by the fact that their footsteps sounded upon the path, andjust as they had passed I heard Courtenay address his wife by name.The transformation of her countenance from the ineffable picture ofgrief and sorrow to the calm, sweet expression of content had beenmarvellous, to say the least--an event stranger, indeed, than any Ihad ever before witnessed. In the wild writings of the old romancersthe dead have sometimes been resuscitated, but never in this workadayworld of ours. There is a finality in death that is decisive.
Yet, as I here write these lines, I stake my professional reputationthat the man I saw was the same whom I had seen dead in that upperroom in Kew. I knew his gait, his cough, and his countenance too wellto mistake his identity.
That night's adventure was certainly the most startling, and at thesame time the most curious, that ever befel a man. Thus I becameseized with curiosity, and at risk of detection crept forth from myhiding-place and looked out after them. To betray my presence would beto bar from myself any chance of learning the secret of it all;therefore I was compelled to exercise the greatest caution. Marymourned the loss of her husband towards the world, and yet met him insecret at night--wandering with him by that solitary bye-path alongwhich no villager ever passed after dark, and lovers avoided becauseof the popular tradition that a certain unfortunate Lady of the Manorof a century ago "walked" there. In the fact of the mourning so wellfeigned I detected the concealment of some remarkable secret.
The situation was, without doubt, an extraordinary one. The man uponwhose body I had made a post-mortem examination was alive and well,walking with his wife, although for months before his assassination hehad been a bed-ridden invalid. Such a thing was startling, incredible!Little wonder was it that at first I could scarce believe my own eyes.Only when I looked full into his face and recognised his features,with all their senile peculiarities, did the amazing truth becomeimpressed upon me.
Around the bend in the river I stole stealthily after them, in orderto watch their movements, trying to catch their conversation,although, unfortunately, it was in too low an undertone. He neverreleased her arm or changed his affectionate attitude towards her, butappeared to be relating to her some long and interesting chain ofevents to which she listened with rapt attention.
Along the river's edge, out in the open moonlight, it was difficult tofollow them without risk of observation. Now and then the elder-bushesand drooping willows afforded cover beneath their deep shadow, but inplaces where the river wound through the open water-meadows mypresence might at any moment be detected. Therefore the utmostingenuity and caution were necessary.
Having made the staggering discovery, I was determined to thoroughlyprobe the mystery. The tragedy of old Mr. Courtenay's death hadresolved itself into a romance of the most mysterious and startlingcharacter. As I crept forward over the grass, mostly on tiptoe, so asto avoid the sound of my footfalls, I tried to form some theory toaccount for the bewildering circumstance, but could discern absolutelynone.
Mary was still wearing her mourning; but about her head was wrapped awhite silk shawl, and on her shoulders a small fur cape, for thespring night was chilly. Her husband had on a dark overcoat and softfelt hat of the type he always wore, and carried in his hand a lightwalking-stick. Once or twice he halted when he seemed to be impressinghis words the more forcibly upon her, and then I was compelled to stopalso and to conceal myself. I would have given much to overhear thetrend of their conversation, but strive how I would I was unable. Theyseemed to fear eavesdroppers, and only spoke in low half-whispers.
I noticed how old Mr. Courtenay kept from time to time glancing aroundhim, as though in fear of detection; hence I was in constant dreadlest he should look behind him and discover me slinking along theirpath. I am by no means an adept at following persons, but in this casethe stake was so great--the revelation of some startling andunparalleled mystery--that I strained every nerve and every muscle toconceal my presence while pushing forward after them.
Picture to yourself for a moment my position. The whole of my futurehappiness, and consequently my prosperity in life, was at stake atthat instant. To clear up the mystery successfully might be to clearmy love of the awful stigma upon her. To watch and to listen was theonly way; but the difficulties in the dead silence of the night werewell-nigh insurmountable, for I dare not approach sufficiently near tocatch a single word. I had crept on after them for about a mile, untilwe were approaching the tumbling waters of the weir. The dull roarswallowed up the sound of their voices, but it assisted me, for I hadno further need to tread noiselessly.
On nearing the lock-keeper's cottage, a little white-washed housewherein the inmates were sleeping soundly, they made a wide detouraround the meadow, in order to avoid the chance of being seen. Marywas well known to the old lock-keeper who had controlled those greatsluices for thirty years or more, and she knew that at night he wasoften compelled to be on duty, and might at that very moment besitting on the bench outside his house, smoking his short clay.
I, however, had no such fear. Stepping lightly upon the grass besidethe path I went past the house and continued onward by the riverside,passing at once into the deep shadow of the willows, whicheffectually concealed me.
The pair were walking at the same slow, deliberate pace beneath thehigh hedge on the further side of the meadow, evidently intending torejoin the river-path some distance further up. This gave me anopportunity to get on in front of them, and I seized it without delay;for I was anxious to obtain another view of the face of the man whom Ihad for months believed to be in his grave.
Keeping in the shadow of the trees and bushes that overhung thestream, I sped onward for ten minutes or more until I came to theboundary of the great pasture, passing through the swing gate by whichI felt confident that they must also pass. I turned to look beforeleaving the meadow, and could just distinguish their figures. They hadturned at right angles, and, as I had expected, were walking in mydirection.
Forward I went again, and after some hurried search discovered a spotclose to the path where concealment behind a great old tree seemedpossible; so at that coign of vantage I waited breathlessly for theirapproach. The roaring of the waters behind would, I feared, preventany of their words from reaching me; nevertheless, I waited anxiously.
A great barn owl flapped lazily past, hooting weirdly as it went; thenall nature b
ecame still again, save the dull sound of the tumblingflood. Ambler Jevons, had he been with me, would, no doubt, have acteddifferently. But it must be remembered that I was the merest tyro inthe unravelling of a mystery, whereas, with him, it was a kind ofnatural occupation. And yet would he believe me when I told him that Ihad actually seen the dead man walking there with his wife?
I was compelled to admit within myself that such a statement from thelips of any man would be received with incredulity. Indeed, had such athing been related to me, I should have put the narrator down aseither a liar or a lunatic.
At last they came. I remained motionless, standing in the shadow, notdaring to breathe. My eyes were fixed upon him, my ears strained tocatch every sound.
He said something to her. What it was I could not gather. Then hepushed open the creaking gate to allow her to pass. Across the moon'sface had drifted a white, fleecy cloud; therefore the light was not sobrilliant as half an hour before. Still, I could see his featuresalmost as plainly as I see this paper upon which I am penning mystrange adventure, and could recognise every lineament and peculiarityof his countenance.
Having passed through the gate, he took her ungloved hand with an airof old-fashioned gallantry and raised it to his lips. She laughedmerrily in rapturous content, and then slowly, very slowly, theystrolled along the path that ran within a few feet of where I stood.
My heart leapt with excitement. Their voices sounded above the rushingof the waters, and they were lingering as though unwilling to walkfurther.
"Ethelwynn has told me," he was saying. "I can't make out the reasonof his coldness towards her. Poor girl! she seems utterlyheart-broken."
"He suspects," his wife replied.
"But what ground has he for suspicion?"
I stood there transfixed. They were talking of myself!
They had halted quite close to where I was, and in that low roar hadraised their voices so that I could distinguish every word.
"Well," remarked his wife, "the whole affair was mysterious, that youmust admit. With his friend, a man named Jevons, he has beenendeavouring to solve the problem."
"A curse on Ambler Jevons!" he blurted forth in anger, as though hewere well acquainted with my friend.
"If between them they managed to get at the truth it would be veryawkward," she said.
"No fear of that," he laughed in full confidence. "A man once dead andburied, with a coroner's verdict upon him, is not easily believed tobe alive and well. No, my dear; rest assured that these men will neverget at our secret--never."
I smiled within myself. How little did he dream that the man of whomhe had been speaking was actually overhearing his words!
"But Ethelwynn, in order to regain her place in the doctor's heart,may betray us," his wife remarked dubiously.
"She dare not," was the reply. "From her we have nothing whatever tofear. As long as you keep up the appearance of deep mourning, arediscreet in all your actions, and exercise proper caution on theoccasions when we meet, our secret must remain hidden from all."
"But I am doubtful of Ethelwynn. A woman as fondly in love with a man,as she is with Ralph, is apt to throw discretion to the winds," thewoman observed. "Recollect that the breach between them is on ouraccount, and that a word from her could expose the whole thing, and atthe same time bring back to her the man for whose lost love she ispining. It is because of that I am in constant fear."
"Your apprehensions are entirely groundless," he declared in adecisive voice. "She's the only other person in the secret besidesourselves; but to betray us would be fatal to her."
"She may consider that she has made sufficient self-sacrifice?"
"Then all the greater reason why she should remain silent. She has herreputation to lose by divulging."
By his argument she appeared only half-convinced, for I saw upon herbrow a heavy, thoughtful expression, similar to that I had noticedwhen sitting opposite her at dinner. The reason of her constantpreoccupation was that she feared that her sister might give me theclue to her secret.
That a remarkable conspiracy had been in progress was now made quiteplain; and, further, one very valuable fact I had ascertained was thatEthelwynn was the only other person who knew the truth, and yet darednot reveal it.
This man who stood before me was old Mr. Courtenay, without a doubt.That being so, who could have been the unfortunate man who had beenstruck to the heart so mysteriously?
So strange and complicated were all the circumstances, and so cleverlyhad the chief actors in the drama arranged its details, that Courtenayhimself was convinced that for others to learn the truth was utterlyimpossible. Yet it was more than remarkable that he sought not todisguise his personal appearance if he wished to remain dead to theworld. Perhaps, however, being unknown in that rural district--for heonce had told me that he had never visited his wife's home since hismarriage--he considered himself perfectly safe from recognition.Besides, from their conversation I gathered that they only met on rareoccasions, and certainly Mary kept up the fiction of mourning with thegreatest assiduity.
I recollected what old Mrs. Mivart had told me of her daughter'serratic movements; of her short mysterious absences with herdressing-bag and without a maid. It was evident that she made flyingvisits in various directions in order to meet her "dead" husband.
Courtenay spoke again, after a brief silence, saying:
"I had no idea that the doctor was down here, or I should have keptaway. To be seen by him would expose the whole affair."
"I was quite ignorant of his visit until I went in to dinner and foundhim already seated at table," she answered. "But he will leaveto-morrow. He said to-night that to remain away from his patients fora single day was very difficult."
"Is he down here in pursuance of his inquiries, do you think?"suggested her husband.
"He may be. Mother evidently knew of his impending arrival, but toldme nothing. I was annoyed, for he was the very last person I wished tomeet."
"Well, he'll go in the morning, so we have nothing to fear. He's safeenough in bed, and sleeping soundly--confound him!"
The temptation was great to respond aloud to the compliment; but Irefrained, laughing within myself at the valuable information I wasobtaining.
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