CHAPTER XXXVI
"Sorry to disturb you so unceremoniously," said Hankey, "but it isnecessary. I bring you unexpected news of supreme moment. Please dress,and while you are dressing I will tell you of a very startlingdevelopment in the Russell affair."
"Is the news good or bad?"
"Good, I think; but time alone will disclose that. But please dress asquickly as you can, for you will have to go on a journey immediately. Ihave taken the liberty of ordering something for you to eat, and itshould be here in a minute or two. You have just half an hour in whichto catch the train you must travel by."
"What is the news?" asked Gilbert, going on dressing all the while.
"Well, last night, after I left you, I went to my office, late as itwas, and I found one of my subordinates waiting for me. It was the manwhose duty it was to shadow Russell. He reported that he had kept sightof him until he went into his own house. My man then hung about, andafter some time, a conveyance drove up, into which presently Russell,his wife and child got. He followed them to the railway depot, andfinally saw them depart in the Northern Pacific Express for Winnipeg."
"Gone!" exclaimed Gilbert; "and with a start of half-a-day! And JamesRussell leaves St. Paul the very day I arrive. That's curious. Had hegot warning? But how?"
"Perhaps he saw you in the streets yesterday--you were about a gooddeal, were you not?"
"Yes; that may be it."
"It does not matter much, anyhow; the fact remains that he went awaylast night."
"And I must go after him at once. That's what you mean?"
"That's part of it; but there is more to tell you, much more. For, thismorning, about forty minutes ago--oh, I lost no time, you willperceive--one of my men who has to be on duty all night at my office,came to my house and woke me up. He was aware Russell was on board theNorthern Pacific Express going to Winnipeg last night, and he had comehot-foot to show me an early edition of the _Pioneer Press_--that's ourleading paper--in which there is a long account of a dreadful accidentto this very express. It had collided with a freight train, both trainsbeing wrecked and smashed to pieces. Many of the passengers have beenkilled, and most of the survivors are badly injured."
"And Russell?" Gilbert inquired breathlessly.
"He is not in the list of the dead; his name appears amongst those whoseinjuries are probably fatal. This is why I am hurrying you up. If youwish to see him alive, you must catch the first train. Now, do you see?Was not my knocking you up in this way justified?"
"Yes, indeed. I am grateful to you for your zeal. How far up the linewas the accident?"
"A few miles south of Glyndon. You can be there in a comparatively shorttime."
"I think I should like you to come with me," said Gilbert, after a briefsilence; "that is, if you are disengaged."
"I can manage to come all right, and I should like to know the end;though it's possible the man may recover. On the other hand, if he knowshe is certain to die, there's just a chance he may be willing to own upand make restitution, if that's in his power."
"A death-bed confession! Now, I should say," remarked Gilbert, "Russellis the last man on earth to make one."
But now there appeared a waiter with a tray on which was some breakfast,and the conversation stopped.
Ten minutes later, Gilbert and Hankey were speeding northwards on theNorthern Pacific to the scene of the collision, where they arrived indue course. On the way up, every one was talking of the appallingdisaster. Many in the train were relatives of the victims, and the wholeatmosphere was charged with grief and sorrow. Gilbert Eversleigh was tooyoung and too sensitive not to sympathize with and share these feelings.They made such an impression on him that the vengeance he cherished, andthe hatred he felt for Silwood were decidedly modified, though he wasscarcely aware of it himself.
The express stopped some fifty yards away from the spot where thecollision had taken place. When Gilbert and the detective alighted, theysaw an enormous crowd had already gathered together, large numbershaving flocked in from the surrounding country. For the most part, itwas a quiet and silent crowd. The Shadow of Death lay heavy upon it;here and there, however, were little groups weeping and sobbing andwringing their hands. In the midst of one stood a woman, suddenlycrazed, who alternately screamed and laughed.
The scene was such, the circumstances were such, that they could notfail to make an ineffaceable impression on Gilbert's mind.
It was an unparalleled scene of destruction.
In the centre was the wreck of the two trains lying on the torn andtwisted rails. The engines were piled high in the middle, with theircolossal frames seamed, cracked, broken, burnt, and bent into queershapes. Some of the coaches and carriages of the ill-fated express hadbeen smashed into matchwood, others lay about in large pieces anddislocated sections, and the whole formed a confusion of wood, glass,and other materials, rendered more terrible from the fact that fire hadswept its destroying torch over a large part of it.
And it was whispered there were bodies, or what had once been bodies,lying somewhere in that chaos!
Gangs of railroad men were struggling to bring some sort of order intoit, but their progress was necessarily slow. Now and again a charred andblackened object, which had lost all semblance to anything human, wasdug up and carried away.
On one side of the wreck two large tents had been erected: one was usedas a mortuary, to which the dead were carried; the other served as ahospital for the injured and wounded, where they were tended by doctorsfrom the vicinity, who had volunteered their services.
It was to the hospital tent that Gilbert and Hankey directed theirsteps, but they experienced considerable difficulty in gainingadmission. However, at last they were allowed in, and a doctor, of whomthey inquired, told them James Russell was still alive, was indeedlikely to live for two days or perhaps longer, but that the nature ofthe injuries he had received made his recovery impossible. He was quiteconscious, and knew he was dying.
"He would be glad to see some one he knows," added the doctor.
"How are his wife and child?"
"Both are injured, but not seriously. I have not told them of Russell'scondition."
"Is there any objection, doctor," asked Gilbert, "to my speaking to himat once?"
"None at all, I think," replied the physician, and he led them to thepallet on which lay Russell, his head and shoulders swathed in bandages,and his face, where visible, extraordinarily pinched and white. Thefalse moustache which he had worn as part of his disguise was gone, thepaint had been washed from his cheeks, and Gilbert had no difficultywhatever in identifying Cooper Silwood in "James Russell."
"It is he," he whispered to Hankey.
Hankey peered into the face.
"He is now more like that photograph you showed me," said Hankey beneathhis breath to Gilbert.
Gilbert went and stood over Silwood, and looked him in the eyes. Thedying man evinced no surprise at seeing him, but returned Gilbert's gazecalmly. He was the first to speak.
"Gilbert Eversleigh," he said in a queer voice, that had no weakness init. "I expected you to come, but not so soon. How is it you are here soquickly? The telegram I sent by the doctor to you at the Merchants'Hotel was despatched only two hours ago."
"You sent me a telegram!" said Gilbert, astonished, but not so much soas not to note Silwood knew he had been stopping at the Merchants'. "Ihave not received it. The reason I am here is, I was aware you were onboard the express, and hearing of the accident, I came at once on thechance of speaking to you."
"You knew I was on the express?"
"Yes; your movements yesterday were observed."
"I see," said Silwood, thoughtfully. Then he added, "Well, it does notsignify now--nothing signifies any more to me!"
Silwood pronounced these words in a firm voice, though strongly tingedwith regret. Gilbert stood by in silence, many feelings working withinhim.
"Nothing matters any more to me personally," continued Silwood; "butthere are others of whom I must thin
k, for they are dear to me. It wasbecause of them, it was for their sakes, that I sent you the telegram. Iasked the doctor to tell me the truth, the whole truth, about my state;and when he told me that I should not last more than two or three days,I had to consider the best course to take. What helped me to make up mymind was the certainty you had made some discovery--otherwise, Ireasoned, you would not have been in St. Paul yesterday. Had thisaccident not occurred, and if I had been alone, I should have succeededin baffling you; even hampered by my wife and the boy, I believe I couldhave managed to escape pursuit. But now I am dying, and my wife andchild would soon have been hunted down when left to themselves.Therefore I resolved to ask you to come to me."
Silwood paused, his breath coming a little more quickly than before.
"But why?" asked Gilbert.
"I wished to make a bargain with you."
"To make a bargain!"
"Yes. I thought of offering to tell you the whole truth if you wouldconsent to make provision for my wife and child. She is an uneducatedwoman, and the boy is a cripple. They are two helpless creatures, andthey are absolutely innocent; they do not even know my real name. Theybelieve I am----"
"James Russell!"
"Yes! You know that! That is what I thought, else you would not havebeen in St. Paul. Will you consent to make some provision for them, if Ideclare everything without concealment or reserve? I do not know howmuch you do know?" he added inquiringly.
"I know a good deal, but not all. I know you did not lose the money onthe Stock Exchange, as you told my father, but that you--appropriated itto your own use, and still have it, I imagine. Is it not so?"
"Yes. That money shall be restored to you in trust for your father andthe firm, if you will accede to my suggestion about my wife and child.What more do you know?"
"I know you led a double life, and that you entered into a conspiracywith Ucelli, the Syndic of Camajore. But I do not know what passedbetween you and Morris Thornton the night he died."
"I will tell you the whole story," said Silwood, "if you will agree tosee my wife and child suitably provided for."
"And if I refuse?"
"Refuse! You will not refuse. Consider! In forty-eight or fifty hours Ishall be dead. Nothing can alter that. I shall be where the hand of thelaw cannot touch me. What can you do against a dead man? Personalvengeance on me is impossible. On the other hand, if you will do what Iwish, then I will tell you where the money is, so that you will have nodifficulty in obtaining it. You have much to gain and nothing to lose byfalling in with my desire."
"But I shall be able to get at the money in any case."
"No, that you never shall unless you get my help."
Gilbert thought for a while. The coolness of Silwood's propositionstartled him; yet there was much to recommend it.
"Let me consider for a few moments what you have said," he remarked toSilwood; "and I will tell you my decision."