CHAPTER XXX
WHEN CHURCHYARDS YAWN
It was on Wednesday Riggs told us the story of his connection with someincidents that had been previously unexplained. Halsey had been gonesince the Friday night before, and with the passage of each day I feltthat his chances were lessening. I knew well enough that he might becarried thousands of miles in the box-car, locked in, perhaps, withoutwater or food. I had read of cases where bodies had been found lockedin cars on isolated sidings in the west, and my spirits went down withevery hour.
His recovery was destined to be almost as sudden as his disappearance,and was due directly to the tramp Alex had brought to Sunnyside. Itseems the man was grateful for his release, and when he learned something of Halsey's whereabouts from another member of hisfraternity--for it is a fraternity--he was prompt in letting us know.
On Wednesday evening Mr. Jamieson, who had been down at the Armstronghouse trying to see Louise--and failing--was met near the gate atSunnyside by an individual precisely as repulsive and unkempt as theone Alex had captured. The man knew the detective, and he gave him apiece of dirty paper, on which was scrawled the words--"He's at CityHospital, Johnsville." The tramp who brought the paper pretended toknow nothing, except this: the paper had been passed along from a"hobo" in Johnsville, who seemed to know the information would bevaluable to us.
Again the long distance telephone came into requisition. Mr. Jamiesoncalled the hospital, while we crowded around him. And when there wasno longer any doubt that it was Halsey, and that he would probablyrecover, we all laughed and cried together. I am sure I kissed Liddy,and I have had terrible moments since when I seem to remember kissingMr. Jamieson, too, in the excitement.
Anyhow, by eleven o'clock that night Gertrude was on her way toJohnsville, three hundred and eighty miles away, accompanied by Rosie.The domestic force was now down to Mary Anne and Liddy, with theunder-gardener's wife coming every day to help out. Fortunately, Warnerand the detectives were keeping bachelor hall in the lodge. Out ofdeference to Liddy they washed their dishes once a day, and theyconcocted queer messes, according to their several abilities. They hadone triumph that they ate regularly for breakfast, and that clung totheir clothes and their hair the rest of the day. It was bacon,hardtack and onions, fried together. They were almost patheticallygrateful, however, I noticed, for an occasional broiled tenderloin.
It was not until Gertrude and Rosie had gone and Sunnyside had settleddown for the night, with Winters at the foot of the staircase, that Mr.Jamieson broached a subject he had evidently planned before he came.
"Miss Innes," he said, stopping me as I was about to go to my roomup-stairs, "how are your nerves tonight?"
"I have none," I said happily. "With Halsey found, my troubles havegone."
"I mean," he persisted, "do you feel as though you could go throughwith something rather unusual?"
"The most unusual thing I can think of would be a peaceful night. Butif anything is going to occur, don't dare to let me miss it."
"Something is going to occur," he said. "And you're the only woman Ican think of that I can take along." He looked at his watch. "Don'task me any questions, Miss Innes. Put on heavy shoes, and some olddark clothes, and make up your mind not to be surprised at anything."
Liddy was sleeping the sleep of the just when I went up-stairs, and Ihunted out my things cautiously. The detective was waiting in thehall, and I was astonished to see Doctor Stewart with him.
They were talking confidentially together, but when I came down theyceased. There were a few preparations to be made: the locks to be goneover, Winters to be instructed as to renewed vigilance, and then, afterextinguishing the hall light, we crept, in the darkness, through thefront door, and into the night.
I asked no questions. I felt that they were doing me honor in makingme one of the party, and I would show them I could be as silent asthey. We went across the fields, passing through the woods thatreached almost to the ruins of the stable, going over stiles now andthen, and sometimes stepping over low fences. Once only somebody spoke,and then it was an emphatic bit of profanity from Doctor Stewart whenhe ran into a wire fence.
We were joined at the end of five minutes by another man, who fell intostep with the doctor silently. He carried something over his shoulderwhich I could not make out. In this way we walked for perhaps twentyminutes. I had lost all sense of direction: I merely stumbled along insilence, allowing Mr. Jamieson to guide me this way or that as the pathdemanded. I hardly know what I expected. Once, when through amiscalculation I jumped a little short over a ditch and landed above myshoe-tops in the water and ooze, I remember wondering if this werereally I, and if I had ever tasted life until that summer. I walkedalong with the water sloshing in my boots, and I was actually cheerful.I remember whispering to Mr. Jamieson that I had never seen the starsso lovely, and that it was a mistake, when the Lord had made the nightso beautiful, to sleep through it!
The doctor was puffing somewhat when we finally came to a halt. Iconfess that just at that minute even Sunnyside seemed a cheerful spot.We had paused at the edge of a level cleared place, bordered all aroundwith primly trimmed evergreen trees. Between them I caught a glimpseof starlight shining down on rows of white headstones and an occasionalmore imposing monument, or towering shaft. In spite of myself, I drewmy breath in sharply. We were on the edge of the Casanova churchyard.
I saw now both the man who had joined the party and the implements hecarried. It was Alex, armed with two long-handled spades. After thefirst shock of surprise, I flatter myself I was both cool and quiet.We went in single file between the rows of headstones, and although,when I found myself last, I had an instinctive desire to keep lookingback over my shoulder, I found that, the first uneasiness past, acemetery at night is much the same as any other country place, filledwith vague shadows and unexpected noises. Once, indeed--but Mr.Jamieson said it was an owl, and I tried to believe him.
In the shadow of the Armstrong granite shaft we stopped. I think thedoctor wanted to send me back.
"It's no place for a woman," I heard him protesting angrily. But thedetective said something about witnesses, and the doctor only came overand felt my pulse.
"Anyhow, I don't believe you're any worse off here than you would be inthat nightmare of a house," he said finally, and put his coat on thesteps of the shaft for me to sit on.
There is an air of finality about a grave: one watches the earth thrownin, with the feeling that this is the end. Whatever has gone before,whatever is to come in eternity, that particular temple of the soul hasbeen given back to the elements from which it came. Thus, there is asense of desecration, of a reversal of the everlasting fitness ofthings, in resurrecting a body from its mother clay. And yet thatnight, in the Casanova churchyard, I sat quietly by, and watched Alexand Mr. Jamieson steaming over their work, without a single qualm,except the fear of detection.
The doctor kept a keen lookout, but no one appeared. Once in a whilehe came over to me, and gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"I never expected to come to this," he said once. "There's one thingsure--I'll not be suspected of complicity. A doctor is generallysupposed to be handier at burying folks than at digging them up."
The uncanny moment came when Alex and Jamieson tossed the spades on thegrass, and I confess I hid my face. There was a period of stress, Ithink, while the heavy coffin was being raised. I felt that mycomposure was going, and, for fear I would shriek, I tried to think ofsomething else--what time Gertrude would reach Halsey--anything but thegrisly reality that lay just beyond me on the grass.
And then I heard a low exclamation from the detective and I felt thepressure of the doctor's fingers on my arm.
"Now, Miss Innes," he said gently. "If you will come over--"
I held on to him frantically, and somehow I got there and looked down.The lid of the casket had been raised and a silver plate on it provedwe had made no mistake. But the face that showed in the light of t
helantern was a face I had never seen before. The man who lay before uswas not Paul Armstrong!
The Circular Staircase Page 30
