In Jeopardy
Chapter XX
_The Blind Terror_
For three days I wandered in a phantasmagoric wilderness, my principalobsession making me identify myself with that pair of Hebrew spiesstaggering under the weight of those enormous grapes; would we neverlose sight of Rahab's scarlet cord, and be again in safety and quiet!Then the confusion in my head cleared away, and I saw that it was reallyBetty who sat by my bed and not "Black Jack" Thaneford.
* * * * *
Yes, John Thaneford lies quiet and still in S. Saviour'schurchyard--with his forefathers and mine--and enmity should end at theedge of the grave. God knows that each one of us needs forgiveness, bothhuman and divine, for the deeds done in the flesh.
* * * * *
This morning I am allowed to sit up. Betty is busy at her householdaccounts, and Little Hugh is playing on the floor with blocks and tinsoldiers. What a tremendous big chap he is! Perhaps a trifle shy of meat present, but time will soon put that to rights.
* * * * *
A beautiful day, and I am feeling almost if not quite myself. To-morrowI am to get up, and Chalmers Warriner is coming to dinner.
* * * * *
It is a long and well nigh incredible story to which I have beenlistening this evening. But it explains everything and clears upeverything, and the shadow that has hung over "Hildebrand Hundred" forso long has finally fled away; never, thank God! to return.
* * * * *
_Imprimis_, let me register full and frank confession of my unutterablefolly in ever doubting Betty; or, for that matter, my dear friendChalmers Warriner. And the explanation was so absurdly simple--thesecret engagement between Warriner and Hilda Powers. Of course, Bettyhad been Hilda's confidante and could not betray her even tore-establish a foolish husband's peace of mind. The ridiculous side ofthe affair lay in the fact that there had been no particular reason forkeeping the engagement under cover, outside of Hilda's whim to have theannouncement delayed until after the marriage of her elder sister Eva.Anyhow it _had_ been a secret and Betty had kept it loyally, even to herown hurt. Moreover, she may have detected other traces of the green-eyedmonster in my make-up, and had decided that I needed a salutary lesson.Let it go at that.
Of course, the mere statement of fact was enough to untangle the wholecoil; explained at once was the confidential understanding whichcertainly had existed between my wife and my friend; also Warriner'sappearance at Stockbridge (where Hilda was already Betty's guest), andall the other straws that seemed to show which way the wind blew, andyet were nothing but straws, hopelessly light-minded and whollyirresponsible. I made my amends humbly enough, and they were generouslyaccepted; we will say no more about it.
Dinner was over, and we were taking our coffee on the front portico. Itwas a perfect June night, the heavens a sable pall studded withinnumerable star-clusters, the little vagrant breezes redolent of newmown hay, a nightingale singing in a nearby boscage. An atmosphere ofheavenly peace and quiet that I must needs disturb with the bluntquestion:
"And now what was it that killed John Thaneford?"
Chalmers Warriner threw away the butt of his cigar. "What was it thatkilled all the Hildebrands throughout two generations?" he retorted."Yardley and Randall and Horace and Richard, and Francis Graeme? Theanswer to the one question is the answer to them all. And, finally,there was Eunice Trevor, who went voluntarily to meet the invisibleangel of death--a brave woman if there ever was one! Of course youremember the unfinished letter which she left behind her. There was aparticular paragraph in it that impressed me, and I copied it down in mynote-book." He pulled out the little volume and began to read:
... moreover, I believe that the heart of the Terror beats in this very place--the library of "Hildebrand Hundred." Something is in this room, something eternally menacing and eternally patient. It may be in one year or it may be in three and fifty years, but in the end it will surely claim its own. Yes, something is here, the something for which I myself am waiting; but, search as you will, you shall not find the Terror; you must await its coming. At least you may be certain that it will not fail to keep tryst.
"It must be evident," continued Chalmers, "that Eunice Trevor was awareof the very real danger attendant upon the occupation of the room wecall the library at 'Hildebrand Hundred.' But she did not know what wasthe nature of that danger; in the same breath she speaks of the peril asbeing eternally menacing and eternally patient--a contradiction interms. How could the Terror be always ready to strike, and yet, in onecase at least, wait half a century for the opportunity? This discrepancybothered me from the very first; but let me explain myself more exactly;I made some other notes at the time."
Warriner ruffled the leaves of his note-book, and began again:
"Eunice Trevor gives a list of the owners of the 'Hundred,' togetherwith the dates of their succession and death, running back to 1860, whenYardley Hildebrand succeeded his father, Oliver; Yardley himself dying ayear later under mysterious circumstances. At least I assume that theywere mysterious, for Effingham has assured me that he died alone andwhile engaged in looking over some papers in the then newly completedlibrary. The list continues with Randall and Horace and RichardHildebrand, and ends with Francis Graeme. Now for Miss Trevor'scomments:
"As we analyze these dates and periods we come upon some curious coincidences, and also upon some marked discrepancies. Yardley Hildebrand reigned for one brief year, and the same is true of Randall Hildebrand and of Francis Graeme. But Horace Hildebrand enjoyed three full years of sovereignty, while Richard was Hildebrand of the "Hundred" for no less a period than fifty-three years. Yet all five went to their death along an unfrequented road, and no man can say of a certainty what was the essential damnation of their taking-off. They died, and they died alone--here in this very room where I sit waiting, waiting."
Warriner lit a fresh cigar.
"Making due allowance for feminine hyperbole," he said judicially, "andfor the writer's excited state of mind, we arrive at certain definitefacts. Here are six deaths--seven if we include that of JohnThaneford--and all of them happening under apparently natural but reallyabnormal conditions. The constant factors in the series of equations arethe _locale_ and the general circumstances--an unattended death and novisible cause for dissolution. The period is a variable quantity--fromone to over fifty years. We therefore may conclude justifiably that MissTrevor was wrong in her assertion about something deadly and menacingbeing always in the room, ready to spring upon its prey. Under thathypothesis the apartment would quickly have become impossible for humanoccupancy. The alternative theory is that, granting certain conditions,the lethal agent might enter the room and accomplish its deadlypurpose, and then immediately withdraw. Finally, this agency might behuman or purely mechanical in character. You see what I'm driving at.From the first, I believed that the attack was delivered from without,while Betty and Eunice held that it was what the police call an insidejob."
"And neither theory was wholly right nor wholly wrong," observed Betty.
"Perfectly," rejoined Warriner. "As usual, the truth lay in the middledistance. Now you go on, Betty; this is your part of the story."
"My part of the story!" echoed Betty deprecatingly. "I'm not an author;I'm merely the amanuensis, the typist, if you please."
"Mock modesty," proclaimed Warriner. "Even now we would still bestanding before a closed door were it not for Betty and her master-key."
"Yes, my master-key," scoffed Betty. "Only it doesn't seem very cleverof me to have carried it all these months without ever thinking to useit."
"Perhaps you couldn't find your pocket," suggested Chalmers.
"Enough of this bush-beating and persiflage," I commanded severely."Will you go on and tell me, Betty?"
"Well," began my wife obediently, "we had been warned away from the'Hun
dred,' but you were obstinate and wouldn't budge; you had to besaved in spite of yourself.
"Of course I was right in going North immediately after the MidsummerNight's ball at 'Powersthorp.' Little Hugh really needed the change, andI wanted to be able to call at will on Chalmers for assistance inworking out my problem. I couldn't do so if I stayed on at the'Hundred,' even by means of correspondence. I don't suppose, Hugh, thatI need to particularize any further in this direction?"
I mumbled something unintelligible, and, to add to my discomfiture,Warriner actually laughed. Never mind; I deserved it all.
"I could feel reasonably easy in my mind," went on Betty, "since I knewthat the library had been dismantled and locked up. Besides, I had yoursolemn promise that you would not attempt to enter it for any purpose."
"I forgot," I murmured.
"That sounds like honest penitence, and I can forgive you--now. But Ishall never be able to forget the afternoon your letter came with itscalm announcement that you had been in the room to see about thedamaged window; yes, and would probably have to go again.
"That letter reached Stockbridge at ten o'clock in the morning ofThursday, the twenty-first. Fifteen minutes later an express train leftfor New York, and Chalmers and I were the passengers on it, leavingHilda to follow with the nurse and the baby. At the first opportunity Isent you a telegram. Did you receive it?"
My thoughts went back to the yellow telegraphic sheet clutched in JohnThaneford's black-knuckled hands, and held up before my helpless eyes."Yes, it came," I answered slowly, "but too late to be of any use."
"I was afraid of that," said Betty, "but we were leaving no stoneunturned. We were missing connections all the way down, and I knew thatthe trap was ready for springing. And someone else knew it, too--JohnThaneford."
"But," I objected, "Eunice expressly says that John Thaneford did notknow the secret; except perhaps in part."
"What did he mean then by stupefying you with whiskey, and placing you,bound and helpless, in the big swivel-chair?" put in Warriner.
I was silent.
"Finally," continued Warriner, "it seemed certain that something hadgone wrong with the working of the machinery, whatever it was. Whereuponhe started for you--you remember--with bare hands."
Ah, yes, I remembered.
"Unquestionably, Thaneford was carrying out a perfectly definite plan ofprocedure. He knew what ought to have happened."
"But it didn't happen," I protested. "I'm here and very much alive."
"It did, and it didn't," retorted Warriner. "John Thaneford is dead."
"You mean--you mean----" I boggled.
"Yes, the Terror had entered the room; don't you recall how close I keptto the wall when I was trying to reach you? But it had become a blindTerror, and John Thaneford got in its way."
"But how and why?" I asked helplessly.
"Betty, it's your turn again," said Warriner, settling back in hischair.