XXIX
THE QUIET HOUR
I would rather have been spared the pain of that moment. Mr. Gryce hadvirtually promised that I should not be present at Mr. Gillespie'sarrest, but I presume he forgot not only his promise but my veryexistence in the unexpected interest of this extraordinary situation.Mr. Gillespie, who at another time might have succumbed to the emotionof seeing himself singled out from his brothers on the charge whichhad hitherto involved them all, was already in a state of too muchagitation to make much demonstration over this fresh humiliation.Nevertheless it became evident, from the droop of his arms and thegeneral air of discouragement which crept into his whole bearing, thatthe iron had entered his soul and the climax of his many woes had beenreached.
"I hoped for other results when I entered upon my long and painfulstory," he remarked. "Certainly you have found me able to account formuch that has seemed anomalous in my relations to my father and theattitude I have been compelled to preserve towards society. I amsurprised that anyone should continue to regard me as having hadanything to do with my father's unhappy death. May I ask what specialevidence you imagine yourselves to have against me? I may be able torefute it with a word."
This was more than Mr. Gryce could grant, and he said so, though withless imperturbability of manner than usual. "I am under orders tobring you into the presence of the District Attorney," he explained,"who will use his own discretion in the matter of having you detained.Will you accompany me quietly, leaving the care of your wife to Mr.Outhwaite, who, I am sure, will follow your wishes in the choice ofsuch assistants as he may think necessary to employ?"
The look he received in return was eloquent in its appeal, but Mr.Gryce knew no relenting where his duty was concerned, and, recognisingthis, Mr. Gillespie took a fresh resolve and boldly said:
"You have discovered that I carried a bottle of prussic acid into myfather's house the day before he died. Shall I tell you where Iprocured it? From the hand of her who lies here. I found it tied abouther neck, when, after months of fruitless search, I was led toinvestigate Mother Merry's lodging-house. She was asleep when Idiscovered it; asleep in a way I always found it impossible to break,and the shock of finding her in quiet possession of what Iinstinctively knew to be poison maddened me to such an extent that Itore the phial away from her and put in its place a roll ofbank-notes. These were probably stolen from her, as no proof remainsof her having used them; but the bottle I carried away, havingimpulsively thrust it into my trousers' pocket at the first intimationI received of a raid being made upon the place by the police."
The explanation was so natural, and the manner in which it was madeso convincing, that the detective's look and mine crossed, and Ibecame assured that he as well as myself was beginning to givecredence to this man.
"I can give no information of the use which was made of this drugafter its introduction into my father's home, nor can I designate thehand which took it from my bureau where I placed it on emptying mypockets. My connection with it ended at the moment I speak of. I didnot even think of it again till I came in from the meeting where I hadvainly sought distraction, and found my father lying low and heard thecry of poison raised in the house."
"This would have been a welcome explanation at the time," commentedMr. Gryce. "Your delay has compromised you."
"So be it," was the short but proud reply which came from thissingular man. "When you reflect that by the time I was able to satisfymyself that this bottle was missing from the place where I had leftit, any attempt to exonerate myself would have been a virtualaccusation of one of my two brothers, you will realise why I hesitatedto speak then, and only bring myself to speak now under the compellingforce of an interest greater than family pride or affection. In mydesire to share the last offices which can be paid to my wife, Ipossibly show myself for the second time a coward."
Did he? Mr. Gryce did not seem to think so. The forehead of this ageddetective was clearing fast, and he actually looked younger by tenyears than when he entered this house. Yet his exactions remained thesame, and Mr. Gillespie prepared to accommodate himself to them.
Meanwhile the incessant hammering of the rain on the roof had becomeless noticeable, and the drip, drip, on the sill without, less wearilypersistent. There seemed, too, a diminution in the turbulence of thewind; the doors and windows did not rattle so loudly, and the worstnoises in the yards below had ceased. Anxious to see if the storm wasabating, I raised the window and looked out. Rushing clouds with greattorn edges met my eye, and, below, a chaos of towering wallssurrounding an abyss in which the imagination could picture nothingsave a collection of foul yards and reeking alleys. Recoiling from aprospect which the condition of my mind and heart made more thanusually gloomy, I turned back from the possible tragedies hiddenbehind those great walls to the actual one in which I had myself beenforced to take so ungracious a part. Mr. Gillespie was waiting tospeak to me.
"I am allowed to give you the names of such people as can best assistyou in the removal of my wife," he remarked. "Here they are, togetherwith the address in New Jersey where I wish her ultimately carried.Mr. Gryce will give you what further information you need----"
He placed a paper in my hand with a word of quiet thanks, to which Iresponded in the manner I felt would be most pleasing to Hope. Then hecast a glance at the detective.
"I have promised Mr. Gillespie the privilege of passing a moment inthis room unseen and alone," observed that official, stepping towardsthe door.
I bowed and withdrew, shutting Mr. Gillespie in and ourselves out.Instantly all the noises in the house crowded clamorously to our ears.Laughter, singing, brawling, the screaming of children and thescolding of their distracted mothers, made a sort of pandemonium,which little harmonised with the mood induced by the pathetic story wehad just heard. But it was not for us to be particular at such amoment, and I was glad that I had given no sign of my inwarddisturbance, when Mr. Gryce suddenly remarked:
"I am getting old." (His alert eye and attentive ear turned towardsthe room we had just left did not seem to indicate it.) "I find thatsuch scenes make a deeper impression upon me than formerly. I nolonger dwell on the skill it takes to bring them about, but rathermuse upon the mistakes and woes of poor humanity which make thempossible."
I wished to ask him what he thought of Mr. Gillespie's prospects, buthe gave me no encouragement to do so, and we remained silent till thedoor reopened and Mr. Gillespie came out.
"I am ready now," he quietly informed us. "Mr. Outhwaite, I can trustyou; and if Hope--" He stopped and looked the entreaty he dared notutter.
"I will tell her the whole story just as it has fallen from your lips.You wish me to?"
He signified his assent, but still looked wistful.
"When she has heard the true cause of the division which has takenplace between you and other members of your family, she will act asher own kind heart will prompt her," I added.
He would have pressed my hand, but remembering his position as aprisoner, refrained.
"Let us go," he now said, in natural recoil from the noises which justthen burst in renewed outcry from every quarter of the house.
Mr. Gryce gave a faint whistle. It was answered in the same guardedmanner from below. At which the old detective turned to me with a fewfinal directions, after which, with a promise to leave me wellguarded, he made a gesture which Mr. Gillespie could not fail tounderstand. They began to descend. When Mr. Gillespie was half-waydown, he gave one backward look at the door swaying between him andwhat he had loved best on earth; then he passed on, and I was leftstanding on that dingy landing, alone.
There was some clamour and no little jeering in the rooms below as thedetectives passed through them with their well-dressed prisoner; butthese tokens of class animosity speedily weakened to a sullen growl,amidst which I thought I heard the rattling of departing wheels.
With a heart as heavy as the silence which now filled the house, Iturned and went back into that room.
It was filled with moonli
ght. The candle from which the winding-sheethad long ago melted and run upon the table, had flickered out, but itsfitful flame was not missed. The clouds which had seemed soimpenetrable a short time before, had thinned out and parted till theyflecked, rather than covered, the white disk of the moon, nowrevealed for the first time in days.
That storm and that clearing have never left my memory. As the lastlingering shred of cloud drifted away, leaving the face of the moonquite clear, I found courage to look once more towards the bed.
There was a change there. She lay, not as before, with her featuresquite concealed, but with her face exposed save where the loose curlshad forced their way across her cheeks and forehead. The coverlet,drawn close under her chin, hung smooth and decent to the floor, andacross it lay stretched one white arm, upon the hand of which shonethe wedding-ring which Leighton Gillespie had taken from her neck andplaced there.