CHAPTER IV.
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.
Never have I felt such relief as when, upon my resuscitation, Iremembered that I had put upon paper all the events and all thesuspicions which had troubled me during that fatal night of January the28th, sixteen years before. With that in my possession, I could confrontany suspicion which might arise, and it was this thought which lent tomy bearing at this unhappy time a dignity and self-possession whichevidently surprised the two gentlemen.
"You seem more shocked than astonished," was Mr. Tamworth's firstremark, as, mistress once more of myself, I led the way out of thathorrible room into one breathing less of death and the charnel house.
"You are right," said I. "Mysteries which have troubled me for years arenow in the way of being explained by this discovery. I knew thatsomething either fearful or precious had been left in the keeping ofthis house or grounds; but I did not know what this something was, andleast of all did I suspect that its hiding place was between walls whoseturns and limitations I thought I knew as well as I do the paths of mygarden."
"You speak riddles," Dr. Kenyon now declared. "You knew that somethingfearful or precious had been left in your house--"
"Pardon me," I interrupted; "I said house or grounds. I thought it wasin the grounds, for how could I think that the house could, without myknowledge, hold anything of the nature I have just suggested?"
"You knew, then, that a person had been murdered?"
"No," I persisted, with a strange calmness, considering how agitated Iwas, both by my memories and the fears I could not but entertain for thefuture; "I know nothing; nor can I, even with the knowledge of thisdiscovery, understand or explain what took place in my house sixteenyears ago."
And in a few hurried words I related the story of the mysterious couplewho had occupied that room on the night of January 27, 1775.
They listened to me as if I were repeating a fairy tale, and as I notedthe sympathizing air with which Dr. Kenyon tried to hide his naturalincredulity, I again congratulated myself that I had been a weak enoughwoman to keep an account of the events which had so impressed me.
"You think I am drawing upon my imagination," I quietly remarked, assilence fell upon my narration.
"By no means," the doctor began, hurriedly; "but the details you giveare so open to question, and the conclusions you expect us to draw fromthem are so serious, that I wish, for your own sake, we had heardsomething of the Urquharts, and your doubts and suspicions in theirregard, before we had made the discovery which points to death andcrime. You see I speak plainly, Mrs. Truax."
"You cannot speak too plainly, Doctor Kenyon; and my opinion so entirelycoincides with yours that I am going to furnish you with what you ask."And without heeding their looks of astonishment, I rang the bell for oneof the girls, and sent her to a certain drawer in my desk for the foldedpaper which she would find there.
"Here!" I exclaimed, as the paper was brought, "read this, and you willsoon see how I felt about the Urquharts on the evening of the day theyleft us."
And I put into their hands the record I had made of that day'sexperience.
While they were reading it, I puzzled myself with questions. If thisbody which we had just found sepulchered in my house was, as theinitials in the ring seemed to declare, that of Honora Urquhart, who wasthe woman who passed for her at the time of the departure of thisaccused couple from my doors? I was with them, and saw the lady, andsupposed her to be the same I had entertained at my table the nightbefore. But then I chiefly noted her dress and height, and did not seeher face, which was hidden by her veil, and did not hear her voicebeyond the short and somewhat embarrassed laugh she gave at some littleincident which had occurred. But Hetty had seen her, and had evenreceived money from her hand; and Hetty could not have been deceived,nor was Hetty a girl to be bribed. How was I, then, to understand thematter? And where, in case another woman had taken Mrs. Urquhart'splace, had that woman come from?
I thought of the low window, and the ease with which any one could climbinto it; and then, with a flash of startled conviction, I thought of thehuge box.
"Great heavens!" I ejaculated, feeling the hair stir anew on myforehead. "Can it be that he brought her in that? That she was with themall the time, and that the almost hellish tragedy to which this ringpoints was the scheme of two vile and murderous lovers to suppress anunhappy wife that stood in the way of their desires?"
I could not think it. I could not believe that any man could be so voidof mercy, or any woman so lost to every instinct of decency, as to plan,and then coolly carry out to the end, a crime so unheard of in itsatrocity. There must be some other explanation of the facts before us.Why, the date in the ring is enough. If that speaks true, the marriagebetween Edwin Urquhart and the gentle Honora was but a day old, and eventhe worst of men take time to weary of their wives before they takemeasures against them. Yet, the look and manner of the man! Hisaffection for the box, and his manifest indifference for his wife! And,lastly, and most convincing of all, this awful token in the roombeyond! What should I, what could I think!
At this point in my surmises I grew so faint that I turned to Dr. Kenyonand Mr. Tamworth for relief. They had just finished my record of thepast, and were looking at each other in surprise and horror.
"It surpasses the most atrocious deeds of the middle ages," quoth Mr.Tamworth.
"In a country deemed civilized," finished the doctor.
"Then you think," I tremblingly began--
"That you have harbored two demons under your roof, Mrs. Truax. Thereseems to be no doubt that the woman who went away with Mr. Urquhart wasnot the woman who came with him. She lies here, while the other--"
He paused, and Mr. Tamworth took up the word.
"It seems to have been a strangely triumphant piece of villainy. Thewoman who profited by it must have had great self-control and force ofcharacter. Don't you think so, doctor?"
"Unquestionably," was the firm reply.
"You do not say how you account for her presence here," I nowreluctantly intimated.
"I think she was hidden in the great box. It was large enough for that,was it not, Mrs. Truax?"
I nodded, much agitated.
"His care of it, his call for a supper, the change in its weight, andthe fact that its contents were of a different character in going thancoming, all point to the fact of its having been used for the purpose weintimated. It strikes one as most horrible, but history furnishes uswith precedents of attempts equally daring, and if the box was wellfurnished with holes--did you notice any breathing places in it?"
"No," I returned; "but I did not cast two glances at the box. I wasjealous of it, for the young wife's sake, though, as God knows, I hadlittle idea of what it contained, and merely noticed that it was big andclumsy, and capable of holding many books."
"Yet you must have noticed, even in a cursory glance, whether its top orsides were broken by holes."
"They were not, but--"
"But what?"
"I do remember, now, that he flung his traveling-cloak across it just asthe men went to lift it from the wagon, and that the cloak remainedupon it all the time it was in their hands, and until after we had allleft the room. But it was taken away later, for when I went in thesecond time, I saw it lying across the chair."
"And the box?"
"Was hidden by the foot of the bed behind which he had dragged it."
"And the cloak? Was it over the box when it went out?"
"No; but I have thought since we have been talking, that the box mighthave been turned over after its occupant left it. The holes, if therewere any, would thus be on the bottom, and would escape our detection."
"Very possible, but the sand with which we supposed the box had beenfilled would have sifted through."
"Not if a good firm piece of stuff was laid in first, and there wereplenty of such in the secret chamber."
"That is true. But Burritt, you write, was listening at the door, andyet you mention no remarks of his c
oncerning any noises heard by himfrom within. And noise must have been made if this was done, as it musthave had to be done after the tragedy."
"I know I do not," was the hurried reply. "But Burritt probably did notremain at the door all the time. There is a window seat at the end ofthe corridor, and upon it he probably lolled during the few hours of hiswatch. Besides, you must remember that Burritt left his post some timebefore daylight. He had his duties to attend to, some of whichnecessitated his being in the stables by four o'clock, at least."
"I see; and so the affair prospered, as most very daring deeds do, andthey escaped without suspicion, or rather without suspicion pointedenough to lead to their being followed. I wonder where they escaped to,and if in all the years that have elapsed, they have for one momentimagined that they were happy."
"Happy!" was my horrified exclamation. "Oh, if I could find them! If Icould drag them both to this room and make them keep company with theirvictim for a week, I should feel it too slight a retribution for them."
"Heaven has had its eye upon them. We have been through fearful crisessince that day, and much unrighteous as well as righteous blood hasbeen shed in this land. They may both be dead."
"I do not believe it," I muttered. "Such wretches never die." Then, witha renewed remembrance of Hetty, I remarked: "Curses on the duties thatkept me out of this room on that fatal morning. Had I seen the woman'sface, this horrid crime would at least been spared its triumph. But Iwas obliged to send Hetty, and she saw nothing strange in the woman,though she received money from her hand, and--"
"Where is Hetty?" interrupted the doctor.
"She is married, and lives in the next town."
"So, so. Well, we must hunt her up to-morrow, and see what she has tosay about the matter now."
But we soon found ourselves too impatient to wait till the morrow, soafter we had eaten a good supper in a cheerful room, Dr. Kenyon mountedhis horse, and rode away to the farm house where Hetty lived. While hewas gone, Mr. Tamworth summoned up courage to re-enter that cave ofhorror, and bring out the contents of the oak chest we had seen there.These were mostly stuffs in a more or less good state of preservation,and all the assistance they lent to the understanding of the tragedythat mystified us was the fact that the chest contained nothing, nor theroom itself, of sufficient substance to help the wicked Urquhart ingiving weight to the box which he had emptied of its living freight.This is doubtless the reason he resorted to the garden for the sand andstone he found there.
Dr. Kenyon returned about midnight, and was met at the door by Mr.Tamworth and myself.
"Well?" I cried, in great excitement.
"Just as I supposed," he returned. "She did not see the lady's faceeither. The latter was in bed, and the girl took it for granted that thearm and hand which reached her out a silver piece from between the bedcurtains were those of Mrs. Urquhart."
"My house is cursed!" was my sudden exclamation. "It has not only lentitself to the success of the most demoniacal scheme that ever enteredinto the heart of man, but it has kept its secret so long that all hopeof explaining its details or reaching the guilty must be abandoned."
"Not so," quoth Mr. Tamworth. "Though an old man, I dedicate myself tothis task. You will hear again of the Urquharts."