CHAPTER VII.
RENUNCIATION.
Ferrars had predicted that nothing would be gained by the inquest, andthe result proved him a prophet.
Peter Kramer, the poor half-wit who had given the first clue to thewhereabouts of the murdered man, was found, and his confidence won bymuch coaxing, and more sweets and shining pennies, the only coin whichPeter would ever recognise as such. But the result was small. Asked hadhe seen the teacher, the reply was, "Yep." Asked where, "Most by Injunhill." Asked what doing, "Settin' down."
"Had he heard the pistol fired?" asked the doctor.
"Un! Uh! Heard nawthin."
"And whom did you see, Peter, besides the teacher?"
Again the look of affright in the dull eyes, the arm lifted as inself-protection, and the only word they could coax from his lips was,"Ghost!" uttered in evident fear and trembling.
And this was repeated at the inquest. This, and no more, from Peter.
Mrs. Fry, Charles Brierly's landlady, told how the dead man had appearedat breakfast, and her testimony did not accord with the statement of herlittle daughter.
"Miss Grant has told me of my little girl's mistake," she said. "Mr.Brierly was down-stairs unusually early that morning, and he did notlook quite as well as usual. He looked worried, in fact, and ate little.He was always a small eater, and I said something about his eating evenless than usual, I can't recall the exact words. Nellie of course, didnot observe his worried look, as I did, and quoted me wrong. Mr. Brierlyleft the house at once after leaving the table. I did not think of it atfirst, but it came to me this morning that as he did not carry any bookswith him, he must of course have meant to come back for them, and----"She paused.
"And, of course," suggested the coroner, "he must have had his pistolupon his person when he came down to breakfast? Is that your meaning?"
"Yes, sir."
The weapon, found near the dead man's hand as it had doubtless fallenfrom it, was there in evidence, as it had been picked up with two of thechambers empty.
That it was not a case of murder for plunder was proven, or so theythought, by the fact that the dead man's watch was found upon hisperson; his pockets containing a small sum of money, pencils, knives,note book, a small picture case, closed with a spring, and containingHilda Grant's picture, and a letter from his brother.
Hilda Grant's brief testimony did not agree with that of Mrs. Fry.
"She saw her lover, alive, for the last time on the evening before hisdeath. He was in good spirits, and if there was anything troubling himhe gave no sign of it. He was by nature quiet and rather reserved," shesaid.
"Yes, she knew his habit of sometimes going to the lake shore beyond thetown to practice at target-shooting, but when he did not appear at hispost at nine o'clock, she never thought to send to the lake shore atfirst, because he usually returned from his morning exercise before nineo'clock; and so her first thought had been to send to Mrs. Fry's."
When the doctor and Robert were about to leave the scene of the murder,among other instructions given to Doran had been this:
"Don't say anything in town about Mr. Brierly's arrival; you know howcurious our people are, and we would have a lot of our curiosity lovershovering around my place to see and hear and ask questions. Just cautionthe others, will you?"
Doran held an acknowledged leadership over the men with whom heconsorted, and the group willingly preserved silence. Later, when DoctorBarnes explained to Ferrars how he had kept the curious away from hisdoor, and from Brierly, he thought the detective's gratification becauseof this rather strange, just at first, and in excess of the cause.
"You couldn't have done a better thing," Ferrars had declared. "It'smore than I had ventured to hope. Keep Brierly's identity as close aspossible until the inquest is called, and then hold it back, and do notput him on the stand until the last."
After Mrs. Fry, the boy Peter and Hilda Grant had been questioned,Samuel Doran took the witness chair, telling of his summons from MissGrant, of the separation of the group at the Indian Mound, of hismeeting with Mrs. Jamieson, of the discovery made by his two companionsand of all that followed. And then Mrs. Jamieson was called.
She had entered the place accompanied by an acquaintance from theGlenville, and they had taken, from choice, as it seemed to them, seatsin the rear of the jury, and somewhat aloof from the place where HildaGrant, Mrs. Marcy, and Mrs. Fry sat. Robert Brierly would have taken hisplace beside Hilda, but the detective interposed.
"Owing to the precautions of the doctor and Mr. Doran, the fact of yourrelationship has not leaked out. It appears that Mrs. Fry was notinformed of your coming until the evening before, or Thursday evening,and she seems to be a very discreet woman. After the inquest you will befree to devote yourself to Miss Grant. Until then, it is my whim, if youlike, to keep you incog."
Of course Brierly acquiesced, but more than once he found himselfwondering why this should seem to Ferrars needful.
Mrs. Jamieson came quietly to the witnesses' chair, and took her place.There was a little stir as she came forward, for, while she had been forsome weeks in Glenville, and had driven much about its pretty countryroads and lanes, she had gone, for the most part, more or less closelyveiled in fleecy gauzes of black or white. Afoot she was seldom seenbeyond the grounds about the family hotel.
To-day, however, the lady had chosen to wear a Parisian looking gown ofdull black silk and a tiny capote of the same material rested upon herblonde and abundant hair, while only the filmiest of white illusionveiled, but did not hide, the pretty face from which the blue eyeslooked out and about her, gravely but with perfect self-possession.
She told of her morning drive, and while so doing, Ferrars, sitting alittle in the rear of the coroner, slipped into his palm a small cardclosely written upon both sides. Upon one side was written, "Use theseas random shots."
And when she spoke of the man whom she had seen going into the wood nearthe mound, the doctor interposed his first question.
"Can you describe the person at all? His dress, his bearing?"
"Not distinctly," she replied. "He was going from me and his face, ofcourse, I could not see. In fact, as I have before stated, my pony wasfresh, and required my attention. Besides, there was really no reasonwhy I should look a second time at the back of a strange person whom Ipassed at some little distance. As I seem to recall the figure now, itwas that of a rather tall, fair-haired man. I can say no more."
"And at what hour was this?"
"It must have been nearing eight o'clock, I fancy, although being outfor pleasure I took little notice of the hour."
No further interruptions were made until she had finished the story ofthe morning's experience, of her meeting with Doran and the others, ofthe drive to the village, and of her message to Miss Grant.
"Did you know Miss Grant?"
"Only as I had seen her at church, and upon the street or in theschool-yard. We had never met, prior to that morning."
"And Charles Brierly? Did you know him?"
"Only by sight. I know few people in Glenville outside of my ho--of theGlenville House."
Both the doctor and Ferrars noted the unfinished word broken off at thefirst syllable. To the one it was a riddle; to the other it toldsomething which he might find useful later on.
"Mrs. Jamieson," resumed the coroner, after consulting the detective'scard, "how far did you drive yesterday before you turned about upon thewood road?"
For a moment the lady seemed to be questioning her memory. Then shereplied.
"The distance in miles, or fractions of miles, I could not give. Iturned the pony about, I remember, at the place where the road curvestoward the lake, at the old mill, near the opening of the wood."
"Ah, then you could see, of course, for some distance up and down thelake shore?"
"I could!"
There was a hint of surprise in her coldly courteous reply.
"And at that point did you see anything, any one in the wood, or alongthe lake?"
br /> "I certainly saw no person. But--yes, I do remember that there was aboat at the water's edge, not far from the place where I turnedhomeward. It was a little beyond, or north of me."
"Did you observe whether there were oars in the boat?"
"I saw none, I am quite sure," the lady replied, and this ended her partin the inquiry.
But now there were some youthful, eager and valuable new witnesses, andtheir combined testimony amounted to this:
When the body of their beloved teacher had been brought home and thefirst hour of excitement had passed, three boys, who had been amongCharles Brierly's brightest and most mischief loving and adventurouspupils, had set out, a full hour in advance of the elder exploringparty, and had followed the lake shore and the wood road, one closelyskirting the lake shore, another running through the sparse timber andundergrowth about half way up the shallow slope, and the third trottingdown the road beyond; the three keeping pretty nearly parallel, untilthe discovery, by the lad upon the shore, of the boat drawn out of thewater, and in the shade of a tree. This had brought the others down tothe lake and then caused them to go hastily back. Meeting the party ofmen, who were not far behind them, the boys had turned back with them,and now there was a crowd of witnesses to corroborate the story of theboat.
It stood, they all affirmed, in the shade of a spreading tree, so asthat no sun rays had beaten upon it, and its sides were still damp fromrecent contact with the water, while it stood entirely upon the land.Two oars, also showing signs of contact with the lake, were in thelittle boat, blade ends down, and it was evident that its late occupanthad disembarked in haste, for, while the stake by which the boat hadbeen secured, stood scarcely three feet away, and the chain and padlocklay over the edge of the little craft, there had been no effort tosecure it, and the oars had the look of having been hastily shipped andleft thus without further care.
When the matter of the boat had been fully investigated, the coroner andFerrars conferred together for some moments, and during these momentsMrs. Jamieson and her companion exchanged some whispered words.
Through some mistake, it would seem, these two had been given placeswhich, while aloof from the strange men, and almost in the rear of thejurors, brought them facing the open door of the inner room, where, infull view, the shrouded body of the murdered man lay, and from the firstthe eyes of the two seemed held and fascinated by the sight of the long,still figure outlined under the white covering.
"Is it possible," whispered the lady witness, "that we must sit hereuntil the end, face to face with that!" She was trembling slightly, asshe spoke. "It is making me nervous."
"And no wonder," murmured her friend. "But it must be almost over. I--Iconfess to some curiosity. This is such a new and unusual sensation, tobe here, you know."
"Ugh!"
Mrs. Jamieson turned away, for the coroner was speaking.
"There is one point," he said, "upon which our witnesses differ, andthat is the mental condition of the deceased during the twenty-fourhours preceding his death. Another witness will now speak upon thismatter. Mr. Robert Brierly, the brother of Charles Brierly, will nowtestify."
As Robert Brierly came out from the rather secluded place he hadheretofore occupied, at the suggestion of the detective, all eyes werefixed upon him. There could be no doubt of his relationship to thedeceased. It was the same face, but darker and stronger; the same tallform, but broader and more athletic. The eyes of this man were darkerand more resolute than those of his dead brother; his hair was browner,too, and where the face of the one had been full of kindliness andgentle dignity, that of this other was strong, spirited and resolute.But, beyond a doubt, these two were brothers.
There was a stir as Brierly made his way forward, paused before thecoroner and faced the jury; and then, as his eyes fell upon the twofigures in the rear of that body he made a sudden step forward.
"Doctor!" he called quickly, "you are needed here! A lady has fainted!"
For a moment all was forgotten, save the white face that had fallen backupon her friend's shoulder, and that seemed even whiter because of theblack garments, and beneath the halo of fair blonde hair.
"It was that," explained the friend, who proved to be a Mrs. Arthur,pointing toward the shrouded figure in the inner room. "She has beengrowing more and more nervous for some time."
Robert Brierly was the first at her side, but, as the doctor took hisplace and he drew back a pace, a hand touched his arm.
"Step aside," whispered Ferrars, "where she cannot see you." And withoutcomprehending but answering a look in the detective's eye, he obeyed.
Mrs. Jamieson did not at once recover, and the doctor and Ferrarscarried her across the hall and into the room lately occupied byBrierly. As Mrs. Arthur followed them, it seemed to her that thedetective, whom of course she did not know as such, was assuming theleadership, and that half a dozen quick words were spoken by him to thedoctor, across her friend's drooping head.
"She must be removed immediately," said the doctor a moment after. "Letsome one find a carriage or phaeton at once." Then, as Ferrars did notmove from his place beside the bed where they had placed the unconsciouswoman, he strode to the chamber door, said a word or two to Doran, whohad followed them as far as the door, and came back to his place besidethe bed.
Before Mrs. Jamieson had opened her eyes a low wagonette was at thedoor, and when the lady became conscious and had been raised and given astimulating draught, she was lifted again by Ferrars and Doctor Barnesand carried to the waiting vehicle, followed by Mrs. Arthur.
"Kindly take the place beside the driver, madam," directed the doctor."My friend will go with the lady and assist her; it will be best. It ispossible that she may faint again." And so they drove away, Mrs. Arthurbeside Doran, the driver; and Mrs. Jamieson, still pallid and tremulous,leaning upon the supporting shoulder of Ferrars, silent and with closedeyes.
As he lifted her from the wagonette, and assisted her up the steps andwithin the door, however, the lady seemed to recover herself with aneffort. She had crossed the threshold supported by Ferrars on the oneside, and leaning upon her friend's arm upon the other, and at the doorof the reception room she turned, saying faintly:
"Let me rest here first. Before we go upstairs, I mean." Then,withdrawing her hand from her friend's arm, she seemed to steadyherself, and standing more erect, turned to Ferrars.
"I must not trouble you longer, now, sir. You have been most kind." Hervoice faltered, she paused a moment, and then held out her hand. "Ishould like very much to hear the outcome," she hesitated.
"With your permission," the detective replied quickly, "I will call toask after your welfare, and to inform you if I can." He turned to go,but she made a movement toward him.
"That poor girl," she said, "I pity her so. Do you know her well, sir?"She was quite herself now, but her voice was still weak and tremulous.
"You have not heard, I see, that she is my cousin."
"No. I would like to call upon her. Will you ask her if I may?" Henodded and she added quickly, "And call, if you please, to-morrow."
Robert Brierly told his story almost without interruption; all that heknew of his brother's life in the village; of his own; of his comingearlier than he was expected, and of his firm belief that his brotherhad been made the victim of foul play. Possibly killed by mistake,because of some fancied resemblance; for his life, which had been likean open book to all his friends, held no secrets, no "episodes," andenemies he never had one. In short, he could throw no light upon themystery of his brother's death. Rather, his story made that death seemmore mysterious than at first because of the possibilities that itrendered at least probable.
But this evidence had its effect upon a somewhat bucolic jury. ThatCharles Brierly had been shot by another hand than his own had been veryclearly demonstrated, for his brother would have no doubt whatever leftupon this point; while he little knew how much the judicious whispersand hints uttered in the right places, and with apparent intent ofconfidence and secrecy,
had to do with the shaping of the verdict, whichwas as follows:
"We, the jury, find that the deceased, Charles Brierly, died from a bullet wound, fired, according to our belief, by mistake or accident, and at the hands of some person unknown."
And now came the question of proof.
"It must be cleared up," said Robert Brierly to the detective. "I amnot a rich man, Mr. Ferrars, but all that I have shall be spent at needto bring the truth to light. For I can never rest until I have learnedit. It is my duty to my dead brother, father, mother--all."
And late that night, alone in his room he looked out upon the stars hunglow upon the eastern horizon and murmured--
"Ah, Ruth, Ruth, we were far enough asunder before, and now--Ah, it waswell to have left you your freedom, for now the gulf is widening; it maysoon, it will soon be impassable." And he sighed heavily, as a strongman sighs when the tears are very near his eyes and the pain close tohis heart.