CHAPTER XXXVII.
"The fisherman, unassisted by destiny, could not catch a fish in the Tigris; and the fish, without fate, could not have died upon dry land."--SAADI.
Anne met Miss Lois in New York. Miss Lois had never been in New Yorkbefore; but it would take more than New York to confuse Miss Lois. Theyremained in the city for several days in order to rest and arrange theirplans. There was still much to explain which the letters, voluminous asthey had been, had not made entirely clear.
But first they spoke of the child. It was Miss Lois at length who turnedresolutely from the subject, and took up the tangled coil which awaitedher. "Begin at the beginning and tell every word," she said, sittingerect in her chair, her arms folded with tight compactness. If Miss Loiscould talk, she could also listen. In the present case she listenedcomprehensively, sharply, and understandingly. When all was told--"Howdifferent it is from the old days when we believed that you and Rastwould live always with us on the island, and that that would be thewhole," she said, with a long, sad retrospective sigh. Then dismissingthe past, "But we must do in this disappointing world what is set beforeus," she added, sighing again, but this time in a preparatory way. Anewshe surveyed Anne. "You are much changed, child," she said. Somethingof her old spirit returned to her. "I wish those fort ladies could seeyou _now_!" she remarked, taking off her spectacles and wiping them witha combative air.
Possessed of Anne's narrative, she now began to arrange their plans inaccordance with it, and to fit what she considered the necessities ofthe situation. As a stand-point she prepared a history, which, in itscompleteness, would have satisfied even herself as third person,forgetting that the mental organizations of the Timloesville people wereprobably not so well developed in the direction of a conscientious andpublic-spirited inquiry into the affairs of their neighbors as werethose of the meritorious New England community where she had spent heryouth. In this history they were to be aunt and niece, of the same name,which, after long cogitation, she decided should be Young, because ithad "a plain, respectable sound." She herself was to be a widow (couldit have been possible that, for once in her life, she wished to know,even if but reminiscently, how the married state would feel?), and Annewas to be her husband's niece. "Which will account for the lack ofresemblance," she said, fitting all the parts of her plan together likethose of a puzzle. She had even constructed an elaborate legendconcerning said husband, and its items she enumerated with relish. Hisname, it appeared, had been Asher, and he had been something of a trialto her, although at the last he had experienced religion, and diedthoroughly saved. His brother Eleazer, Anne's father, had been a verydifferent person, a sort of New England David. He had taught in anacademy, studied for the ministry, and died of "a gallopingconsumption"--a consolation to all his friends. Miss Lois could describein detail both of these death-beds, and repeat the inscriptions on thetwo tombstones. Her own name was Deborah, and Anne's was Ruth. On thesecond day she evolved the additional item that Ruth was "worn outkeeping the accounts of an Asylum for the Aged, in Washington--which isthe farthest thing I can think of from teaching children in NewYork--and I have brought you into the country for your health."
Anne was dismayed. "I shall certainly make some mistake in all this,"she said.
"Not if you pay attention. And you can always say your head aches if youdon't want to talk. I am not sure but that you had better be threatenedwith something serious," added Miss Lois, surveying her companionconsideringly. "It would have to be connected with the mind, because,unfortunately, you always look the picture of health."
"Oh, please let me be myself," pleaded Anne.
"Never in the world," replied Miss Lois. "Ourselves? No indeed. We'vegot to _be_ conundrums as well as guess them, Ruth Young."
They arrived at their destination, not by the train, but in the littlecountry stage which came from the south. The witnesses from Timloesvillepresent at the trial had been persons connected with the hotel. In orderthat Anne should not come under their observation, they took lodgings ata farm-house at some distance from the village, and on the opposite sideof the valley. Anne was not to enter the village; but of themeadow-paths and woods she would have free range, as the inhabitants ofTimloesville, like most country people, had not a high opinion ofpedestrian exercise. Anne was not to enter the town at all; but MissLois was to examine "its every inch."
The first day passed safely, and the second and third. Anne was nowsufficiently accustomed to her new name not to start when she wasaddressed, and sufficiently instructed in her "headaches" not torepudiate them when inquiries were made; Miss Lois announced, therefore,that the search could begin. She classified the probabilities under fiveheads.
First. The man must be left-handed.
Second. He must say "gold" for "cold."
Third. As Timloesville was a secluded village to which few strangerscame, and as it had been expressly stated at the trial that no strangerswere noticed in its vicinity either before or after the murder, the deedhad evidently been committed, not as the prosecution mole-blindedlyaverred, by the one stranger who _was_ there, but by no stranger atall--by a resident in the village itself or its neighborhood.
Fourth. As the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Heathcote was unexpected, thecrime must have been one of impulse: there had not been time for a plan.
Fifth. The motive was robbery: the murder was probably a second thought,occasioned, perhaps, by Helen's stirring.
Miss Lois did not waste time. Within a few days she was widely known inTimloesville--"the widow Young, from Washington, staying at FarmerBlackwell's, with her niece, who is out of health, poor thing, and heraunt so anxious about her." The widow was very affable, very talkative;she was considered an almost excitingly agreeable person. But it wasstrange that she should not have heard of their event, their ownparticular and now celebrated crime. Mrs. Strain, wife of J. Strain,Esq., felt that this ignorance was lamentable. She therefore proposed tothe widow that she should in person go to the Timloe Hotel, and see withher own eyes "the very spot."
"The effect, Mrs. Young, is curdling," she declared.
Mrs. Young was willing to be curdled, if Mrs. Strain would support herin the experience. On the next afternoon, therefore, they went to theTimloe Hotel, and were shown over "the very floor" which had beenpressed by the footsteps of the murderer, his beautiful wife, and herhighly respectable and observing (one might almost say _providentially_observing) maid. The landlord himself, Mr. Graub, did not disdain toaccompany them. Mr. Graub had attended the trial in person, and he hadhardly ceased since to admire himself for his own perspicuous clevernessin owning the house where such a very distinguished crime had beencommitted. There might be localities where a like deed would haveinjured the patronage of an inn; but the neighborhood of Timloesvillewas not one of them. The people slowly took in and appreciated theirevent, as an anaconda is said slowly to take in and appreciate hisdinner; they digested it at their leisure. Farmers coming in to town onSaturdays, instead of bringing luncheon in a tin pail, as usual, wentto the expense of dining at the hotel, with their wives and daughters,in order to see the room, the blind, and the outside stairway. Mr.Graub, in this position of affairs, was willing to repeat the tale, evento a non-diner. For Mrs. Young was a stranger from Washington, and whoknew but that Washington itself might be stirred to a dining interest inthe scene of the tragedy, especially as the second trial was still tocome?
The impression on the blind was displayed; it was very faint, butclearly that of a left hand.
"And here is the cloth that covered the bureau," continued the landlord,taking it from a paper and spreading it on the old-fashioned chest ofdrawers. "It is not the identical cloth, for that was required at thetrial, together with a fac-simile of the blind; but I can assure youthat this one is just like the original, blue-bordered and fringedprecisely the same, and we traced the spots on it exactly similar beforewe let the other go. For we knew that folks would naturally beinterested in such a memento."
"It is indeed
deeply absorbing," said Mrs. Young. "I wonder, now, whatthe size of that hand might be? Not yours, Mr. Graub; yours is a verysmall hand. Let me compare. Suppose I place my fingers so (I will nottouch it). Yes, a large hand, without doubt, and a left hand. Do youknow of any left-handed persons about here?"
"Why, the man himself was left-handed," answered the landlord and Mrs.Strain together--"Captain Heathcote himself."
"He had been wounded, and carried his right arm in a sling," added Mr.Graub.
"Ah, yes," said the widow; "I remember now. Was this impressionmeasured?"
"Yes; I have the exact figures," replied the landlord, taking out anote-book, and reading the items aloud in a slow, important voice.
"Did you measure it yourself?" asked the widow. "Because if _you_ didit, I shall feel sure the figures are correct."
"I did not measure it myself," answered Mr. Graub, not unimpressed bythis confidence. "I can, however, re-measure it in a moment if it wouldbe any gratification to you."
"It would be--immense," said the widow. Whereupon he went down stairsfor a measure.
"I am subject to dizziness myself, but I _must_ hear some one come upthat outside stairway," said Mrs. Young to Mrs. Strain during hisabsence. "_Would_ you do it for me? I want to _imagine_ the _whole_."
Mrs. J. Strain, though stout, consented; and when her highly decoratedbonnet was out of sight, the visitor swiftly drew from her pocket thepaper outline of Heathcote's hand which Anne had given her, and comparedit with the impression. The outlines seemed different; the hand whichhad touched the cloth appeared to have been shorter and wider thanHeathcote's, the finger-tips broader, as though cushioned with fleshunderneath. Mrs. Strain's substantial step was now heard on the outsidestairway. But the pattern was already safely returned to the deep pocketof Mrs. Young.
"I have been picturing the entire scene," she said, in an impressivewhisper when the bonnet re-appeared, "and I assure you that when I heardyour footsteps on those stairs, goose-flesh rose and ran like lightningdown my spine." And Mrs. Strain, though out of breath, considered thather services had been well repaid.
Mr. Graub now returned, and measured the prints with the nicestaccuracy. Owing to the widow's compliment to his hands, he had stoppedto wash them, in order to give a finer effect to the operation. Mrs.Young requested that the figures be written down for her on a slip ofpaper, "as a memorial"; and then, with one more exhaustive look at theroom, the stairway, and the garden, she went away, accompanied by herfriend, leaving Mr. Graub more than ever convinced that he was a veryunusual man.
Mrs. Strain was easily induced to finish the afternoon's dissipations bygoing through the grass meadow by the side of the track made by themurderer on his way to the river. They walked "by the side," becausethe track itself was railed off. So many persons had visited the meadowthat Mr. Graub had been obliged to protect his relic in order topreserve its identity, and even existence. The little trail was nowconspicuous by the fringing of tall grass which still stood erect oneach side of it, the remainder of the meadow having been trodden flat.
"It ends at the river," said Mrs. Young, reflectively.
"Yes, where he came to wash his hands, after the deed was done,"responded Mrs. Strain. "And what his visions and inward thoughts musthave been at sech a moment I leave you, Mrs. Young, solemnly toconsider."
Mrs. Young then returned homeward, after thanking her Timloesvillefriend for a "most impressive day."
"The outlines are too indistinct to be really of much use, Ruth," shesaid, as she removed her bonnet. "I believe it was so stated at thetrial, wasn't it? But if I have eyes, they do _not_ fit."
"Of course not, since it is the hand of another person," replied Anne."But did you notice, or rather could you see, what the variations were?"
"A broader palm, I should say, and the fingers shorter. The only point,however, which I could make out with certainty was the thick cushion offlesh at the ends of the fingers; that seemed clear enough."
At sunset they went across the fields together to the point on theriver-bank where the meadow trail ended.
"The river knows all," said Anne, looking wistfully at the smooth water.
"_They_ think so too, for they've dragged it a number of times,"responded Miss Lois. "All the boys in the neighborhood have been divinghere ever since, I am told; they fancy the purse, watch, and rings arein the mud at the bottom. But they're safe enough in somebody's_pocket_, you may be sure."
"Miss Lois," said the girl, suddenly, "perhaps he went away in a boat!"
"My name is Deborah--Aunt Deborah; and I do wish, Ruth, you would notforget it so constantly. In a boat? Well, perhaps he did. But I don'tsee how that helps it. To-morrow is market-day, and I must go in to thevillage and look out for left-handed men; they won't escape me thoughthey fairly dance jigs on their right!"
"He went away in a boat," repeated Anne, as they walked homeward throughthe dusky fields.
But the man was no nearer or plainer because she had taken him from themain road and placed him on the river; he seemed, indeed, more distantand shadowy than before.
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