CHAPTER XXVIII.
Throughout the day there seemed an interminable passing the New Pikegate. Many stopped to condole with its inmates, a few through genuinesympathy, a greater number urged by a secret desire to see how thebride-elect bore up under the dire misfortune that had come almost withthe suddenness of the lightning's stroke. The curiosity of these wasbaffled, for the girl shut herself closely in her own room, and deniedherself to all.
When the news of the tragedy reached town the coroner came out to theSquire's place to hold an inquest, while numerous others followed in hiswake, drawn thither by the morbid interest that attracts many to thescene of similar crimes.
Mrs. Brown waited on the gate, eager to know all that was thought orsaid of the deplorable affair, and though her daughter asked not asingle word, the mother, who plied with voluble questioning almostevery soul that passed through the gate, told her from time to time ofthe rumors that were afloat. Thus the girl learned of the verdict on thecoroner's return--that Squire Bixler had met his death in his own roomthe night before, by a knife-thrust at the hand of some person orpersons unknown. The victim had evidently been dead several hours whenhis body was found by one of the servants who came to see why the Squirewas so tardy on his wedding morn.
Robbery may have been a cause, for the Squire's pocket-book was foundlying open and empty at his side, and a small drawer in the tall clockhad been pulled out and searched yet the victim's heavy gold watch hadnot been taken, and nothing else in the room seemed to have beendisturbed or molested.
The murderer had not broken into the house, evidently, for the frontdoor was found to be unlocked, and an entrance and exit had doubtlessbeen effected through that. Considering this fact, it seemed a highlyplausible theory that the murderer must have been admitted to the houseby the Squire himself, and that it was doubtless some one whom theSquire well knew, else the door had not been unlocked to this one in thelate hours of the night.
The Squire was dressed, with the exception of his coat and shoes, andhad evidently not gone to bed, therefore the murder must have beencommitted along in the early part of the night, before his usualbedtime. The body lay on the floor near a candle-stand before the fire.The candle had burned entirely down in its socket, and the melted tallowhad afterward hardened into a cake round the bowl of the stick. Amid theembers in the fireplace, under the charred end of a log that had burnedin two and fallen to one side, was found the remnant of a gray felt hat.
From the position and range of the cut in the body, the blow hadprobably been given while the victim was standing up facing hisassailant. His murderer had not stolen upon him unawares. The blow hadbeen a true one, and had gone straight to the heart. The one thrust hadbeen sufficient, and the victim had dropped at the feet of his slayer.
When all these various facts had been learned, active minds began tocast about for some clue as to the identity of the murderer, and forsome motive besides robbery.
While the Squire had never been a very popular man, in a general way, hewas not known to have a single enemy who would be likely to do sodastardly a deed. Neither was the Squire in the habit of keeping moneyabout the house, so that if the murderer knew the ways of his victim, hecould not hope to gain a rich reward, therefore some motive besidesrobbery must have actuated the crime. What this motive was, had yet tobe discovered, provided the adage came true that "murder will out."
Of those who were unfriendly to the Squire, none was so prominent tomind as his nephew, Milton Derr, no one would be more profited by theSquire's death than he, for he was next of kin, and, his uncle beingunmarried, the property would revert to him. This point was especiallyemphasized--the uncle being unmarried, and the fact was stronglycommented upon, that it was on the very eve of the Squire's marriagethat he was murdered. Could the motive have been jealousy? The cause ofthe open rupture between the two men was generally known--that a womanwas at the bottom of it and this woman was the one to whom the Squirewas to have been wedded. The whole story was told and retold with manyvariations.
The neighbors spoke of these things in guarded undertones and with graveshakings of the head, and although no outspoken accusations were made,there was an undercurrent of suspicion, deepening into belief, andgrowing hourly, like a stream that rapidly swells beyond its banks whenfed by countless minor tributaries. Public opinion was slowly and surelyfastening the deed on the nephew's shoulders.
These vague rumors and surmises were conveyed from time to time by Mrs.Brown to her daughter's ears, and while the girl steadfastly andpersistently asserted Milton Derr's innocence, there was, nevertheless,a horrible and slowly strengthening conviction at work in her own bosomwhich she could neither silence nor subdue--a conviction that warned hershe was building on false hopes, which might at any moment crumble atthe touch of circumstantial evidence, and reveal her lover not only tothe world, but to her own prejudiced eyes, as a murderer whose soul wasstained with a dark crime.
Closely allied to this harassing fear was a far different feeling thatshe could neither still nor repress, though it seemed a heartless andeven cruel one--a feeling of great thankfulness that the Squire'suntimely death had relieved her of a sacrifice that would have been buta living death to her.
How could she be sorry that he was no longer alive to claim thissacrifice? To pretend to a grief she did not feel was but basehypocrisy. Within her heart of hearts she was glad that she was free.Her only sorrow lay in the tragic manner of his death, and in the secretfear that Milton Derr, half crazed with a passionate jealousy, wasresponsible for it. Had it been possible to recall the Squire to lifeagain, and so blot out the fearful act of the past night, she would mostgladly have done so, and accepted her fate without a murmur, if itsreward had been Milton's safety and innocence.
Possibly she was the only one who knew of Derr's presence in theneighborhood the night before. If such was the case, and he hadsucceeded in getting away without being seen by others, she would keepthe dreadful secret securely locked in her own bosom, and no one shouldever suspect its presence. She centered all hope of his safety on thissupposition.
Along toward noon, some one passing the New Pike gate on the way fromtown, brought the latest news bearing on the tragedy.
As Mrs. Brown sought her daughter's presence, as soon as the informanthad gone, her tone was almost jubilant, as she said:
"Well, they've caught the murderer."
The girl looked up at her mother mutely, almost piteously, as if shewould be spared the unhappy tidings, of whose evil import some subtleintuition had already reached her brain.
"It's just as I expected," continued Mrs. Brown, full of the news shehad brought. "They caught Milt Derr as he was gettin' on the cars atGrigg's Station, fifteen miles from here. The sheriff had telephoned toall the places around to be on the lookout for him. He had sold hiswatch, and was about to buy a ticket somewheres out West when theyarrested him. They've brought him to town, an' he's safe in jail therenow, thank goodness! There'll soon be a first-class hanging in thisneighborhood. I hope," she added, with fervor.