CHAPTER LIII.
THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON.
When Amos Royson's senses returned to him he was standing in the middleof a room in the county jail. The whirl in his head, wherein had mingledthe faces of men, trees, buildings and patches of sky illumined withflashes of intensest light and vocal with a multitude of cries--these,the rush of thoughts and the pressure upon his arteries, had ceased. Helooked about him in wonder. Was it all a dream? From the rear of thebuilding, where in their cage the negro prisoners were confined came amighty chorus, "Swing low, sweet chariot," making more intense thesilence of his own room. That was not of a dream, nor were the barewalls, nor the barred windows. His hands nervously clutching his lapelstouched something cold and wet. He lifted them to the light; they werebloody! He made no outcry when he saw this, but stood a long minutegazing upon them, his face wearing in that half shadow a confession ofguilt. And in that minute all the facts of the day stood forth, clearcut and distinct, and his situation unfolded itself. He was a murderer,a perjurer and a conspirator. Not a human being in all that city woulddare to call him friend.
The life of this man had been secretly bad; he had deluded himself withmaxims and rules of gentility. He was, in fact, no worse at that momentin jail than he had been at heart for years. But now he had beensuddenly exposed; the causes he had set in motion had produced a naturalbut unexpected climax, and it is a fact that in all the world there wasno man more surprised to find that Amos Royson was a villain than Roysonhimself. He was stunned at first; then came rage; a blind, increasingrebellion of spirit unused to defeat. He threw himself against the factsthat hemmed him in as a wild animal against its cage, but he could notshake them. They were still facts. He was doomed by them. Then a tide ofgrief overwhelmed him; his heart opened back into childhood; he plungedface down upon his bed; silent, oblivious to time, and to the jailer'soffer of food returning no reply. Despair had received him! A weapon athand then would have ended the career of Amos Royson.
Time passed. No human being from the outer world called upon him.Counsel came at last, in answer to his request, and a line of defensehad been agreed upon. Temporary insanity would be set up in the murdercase, but even if this were successful, trials for perjury andconspiracy must follow. The chances were against his acquittal in any,and the most hopeful view he could take was imprisonment for life.
For life! How often, as solicitor, he had heard the sentence descendupon the poor wretches he prosecuted. And not one was as guilty as he.This was the deliberate verdict of the fairest judge known to man--theconvicting instincts of the soul that tries its baser self.
At the hands of the jailer Royson received the best possible treatment.He was given the commodious front room and allowed every reasonablefreedom. This officer was the sheriff's deputy, and both offices werepolitical plums. The prisoner had largely shaped local politics and hadprocured for him the the sheriff's bondsmen. Officeholders are notungrateful--when the office is elective.
The front room meant much to a prisoner; it gave him glimpses into thefree, busy world outside, with its seemingly happy men and women, withits voices of school children and musical cries of street vendors.
This spot, the window of his room, became Royson's life. He stood therehour after hour, only withdrawing in shame when he saw a familiar faceupon the street. And standing there one afternoon, just before dark, hebeheld Annie's little vehicle stop in front of the jail. She descended,and as she came doubtfully forward she caught sight of his face. She wasdressed in deep black and wore a heavy crepe veil. There was a fewminutes' delay, then the room door opened and Annie was coming slowlytoward him, her veil thrown back, her face pale and her hand doubtfullyextended. He looked upon her coldly without changing his position.
"Are you satisfied?" he said, at length, when she stood silent beforehim.
Whatever had been the emotion of the woman, it, too, passed with thesound of his sentence.
"I would not quarrel with you, Amos, and I might do so if I answeredthat question as it deserves. I have but a few minutes to stop here andwill not waste them upon the past. The question is now as to the future.Have you any plan?"
"None," he replied, with a sneer. "I am beyond plans. Life is not worthliving if I were out, and the game is now not worth the candle." Thewoman stood silent.
"What are your chances for acquittal?" she asked, after a long silence.
"Acquittal! Absolutely none! Life itself may by a hard struggle besaved. After that, it is the asylum or the mines."
"And then?"
"And then? Well, then I shall again ask my loving cousin to bring me apowder. I will remind her once more that no Royson ever wore chains or ahalter, however much they may have deserved them. And for the sake ofher children she will consent." She walked to the corridor door andlistened and then came back to him. He smiled and stretched out hishand.
"Amos," she whispered, hurriedly; "God forgive me, but I have broughtit. I am going to New York to-morrow, and the chance may not come again.Remember, it is at your request." She was fumbling nervously at thebosom of her dress. "The morphine I could not get without attractingattention, but the chloroform I had. I give it to you for use only whenlife--" He had taken the bottle and was quietly looking upon the whiteliquid.
"I thank you, cousin," he said, quietly, with a ghastly little laugh. "Ihave no doubt but that I can be spared from the family gatherings andthat in days to come perhaps some one will occasionally say 'poor Amos,'when my fate is recalled. Thanks, a thousand thanks! Strange, but thethought of death actually gives me new life." He looked upon hercritically a moment and then a new smile dawned upon his face.
"Ah," he said, "your note about Morgan; it will be unfortunate if thatever comes to light. You were not smart, Annie. You could have boughtthat with this bottle." She flushed in turn and bit her lip. The oldAnnie was still dominant.
"It would have been better since Mr. Morgan is to be my brother-in-law.Still if there is no love between us it will not matter greatly. Maryseems to be willing to furnish all the affection he will need."
"Where is he?" he asked, hoarsely, not attempting to disguise hissuffering. She was now relentless.
"Oh, at Ilexhurst, I suppose. The general is to care for the old Germanuntil the household is arranged again and everything made ready for thebride."
"Is the marriage certain?"
She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, yes. It is to take place soon, and then theyare going to Europe for a year." And then as, white with rage, hesteadied himself against the window, she said: "Mary insisted uponwriting a line to you; there it is. If you can get any comfort from it,you are welcome."
He took the note and thrust it in his pocket, never removing his eyesfrom her face. A ray had fallen into the blackness of his despair. Itgrew and brightened until it lighted his soul with a splendor that shonefrom his eyes and trembled upon every lineament of his face. Not a wordhad indicated its presence. It was the silent expression of a hope and adesperate resolve. The woman saw it and drew back in alarm. A suspicionthat he was really insane came upon her mind, and she was alone,helpless and shut in with a maniac. A wild desire to scream and fleeoverwhelmed her; she turned toward the door and in a minute would havebeen gone.
But the man had read her correctly. He seized her, clapped his hand overher mouth, lifted her as he would a child and thrust her backward on thebed. Before she could tear the grip from her mouth, he had drawn thecork with his teeth and drenched the pillow-case with chloroform. Therewas one faint cry as he moved his hand, but the next instant the drugwas in her nostrils and lungs. She struggled frantically, then faintly,and then lay powerless at the mercy of the man bending over her.
Hardly more than two minutes had passed, but in that time Amos Roysonwas transformed. He had a chance for life and that makes men of cowards.He stripped away the outer garments of the woman and arrayed himself inthem, adding the bonnet and heavy veil, and then turned to go. He wascool now and careful. He went to the bed and drew the cover over theprostrat
e form. He had occupied the same place in the same attitude forhours. The jailer would come, offer supper from the door and go away. Hewould, if he got out, have the whole night for flight. And he would needit. The morn might bring no waking to the silent form. The thoughtchilled his blood, but it also added speed to his movements. He drew offthe pillow-case, rolled it into a ball and dropped it out of the window.He had seen the woman approach with veil down and handkerchief to herface. It was his cue. He bent his head, pressed his handkerchief to hiseyes beneath the veil and went below. The jailer let the bent,sob-shaken figure in and then out of the office. The higher class seldomcame there. He stood bareheaded until the visitor climbed into thevehicle and drove away.
It was with the greatest difficulty only that Royson restrained himselfand suffered the little mare to keep a moderate pace. Fifteen minutesago a hopeless prisoner, and now free! Life is full of surprises. Butwhere? Positively the situation had shaped itself so rapidly he had notthe slightest plan in mind. He was free and hurrying into the countrywithout a hat and dressed in a woman's garb!
The twilight had deepened into gloom. How long would it be beforepursuit began? And should he keep on the disguise? He slipped out of itto be ready for rapid flight, and then upon a second thought put it onagain. He might be met and recognized. His whole manner had undergone achange; he was now nervous and excited, and the horse unconsciouslyurged along, was running at full speed. A half-hour at that rate wouldbear him to The Hall. Cursing his imprudence, he checked the animal anddrove on more moderately and finally stopped. He could not thinkintelligently. Should he go on to The Hall and throw himself upon themercy of his connections? They would be bound to save him. Mary! Ah,Mary! And then the note thrust itself in mind. With feverish haste hesearched for and drew it out. He tore off the envelope and helped by aflickering match he read:
"You must have suffered before you could have sinned so, and I am sorry for you. Believe me, however others may judge you, there is no resentment but only forgiveness for you in the heart of
"Mary."
Then the tumult within him died away. No man can say what that littlenote did for Amos Royson that night. He would go to her, to thisgenerous girl, and ask her aid. But Annie! What if that forced sleepshould deepen into death! Who could extricate her? How would Maryarrange that? She would get Morgan. He could not refuse her anything. Hecould not falter when the family name and family honor were at stake. Hecould not let his wife--his wife! A cry burst from the lips of thedesperate man. His wife! Yes, he would go to him, but not for help. AmosRoyson might die or escape--but the triumph of this man should beshort-lived.
The mare began running again; he drew rein with a violence that broughtthe animal's front feet high in air and almost threw her to the ground.A new idea had been born; he almost shouted over it. He tore off thewoman's garb, dropped it in the buggy, sprang out and let the animal go.In an instant the vehicle was out of sight in the dark woods, and Roysonwas running the other way. For the idea born in his mind was this:
"Of all the places in the world for me the safest is Ilexhurst--if--" Hepressed his hand to his breast. The bottle was still safe! And Annie!The horse returning would lead to her release.
Amos Royson had a general knowledge of the situation at Ilexhurst. At 12o'clock he entered through the glass-room and made his way to the bodyof the house. He was familiar with the lower floor. The upper he couldguess at. He must first find the occupied room, and so, taking off hisshoes, he noiselessly ascended the stairway. He passed first into theboy's room and tried the door to that known as the mother's, but it waslocked. He listened there long and intently, but heard no sound exceptthe thumping of his own heart. Then he crossed the hall and there, upona bed in the front room, dimly visible in the starlight, was the man hesought.
The discovery of his victim, helpless and completely within his power,marked a crisis in the mental progress of Royson. He broke down andtrembled violently, not from conscience, but from a realization of thefact that his escape was now an accomplished fact. This man before himdisposed of, Ilexhurst was his for an indefinite length of time. Here hecould rest and prepare for a distant flight. No one, probably, wouldcome, but should anyone come, why, the house was unoccupied. The moodpassed; he went back to the hall, drew out his handkerchief andsaturated it with liquid from the bottle in his pocket. A distanttapping alarmed him, and he drew deeper into the shadow. Some one seemedknocking at a rear door. Or was it a rat with a nut in the wall? All oldhouses have them. No; it was the tapping of a friendly tree upon theweather boards, or a ventilator in the garret. So he reasoned. Therecame a strange sensation upon his brain, a sweet, sickening taste in hismouth and dizziness. He cast the cloth far away and rushed to the stair,his heart beating violently. He had almost chloroformed himself whilelistening to his coward fears.
* * * * *
The dizziness passed away, but left him unnerved. He dared not walk now.He crawled to the cloth and thence into the room. Near the bed he liftedhis head a little and saw the white face of the sleeper turned to him.He raised the cloth and held it ready; there would be a struggle, and itwould be desperate. Would he fail? Was he not already weakened? He letit fall gently in front of the sleeper's face, and then inch by inchpushed it nearer. Over his own senses he felt the languor stealing; howwas it with the other? The long regular inspirations ceased, the manslept profoundly and noiselessly--the first stage of unconsciousness.The man on the floor crawled to the window and laid his pale cheek uponthe sill.
How long Royson knelt he never knew. He stood up at last with throbbingtemples, but steadier. He went up to the sleeper and shook him--gentlyat first, then violently. The drug had done its work.
Then came the search for more matches and then light. And there upon theside table, leaning against the wall, was the picture that Gerald haddrawn; the face of Mary, severe and noble, the fine eyes gazing straightinto his.
He had not thought out his plans. It is true that the house was his fordays, if he wished it, but how about the figure upon the bed? Could heoccupy that building with such a tenant? It seemed to him the sleepermoved. Quickly wetting the handkerchief again he laid it upon the coldlips, with a towel over it to lessen evaporation. And as he turned, theeyes of the picture followed him. He must have money to assist hisescape; the sleeper's clothing was there. He lifted the garments. Anirresistible power drew his attention to the little table, and there,still fixed upon him, were the calm, proud eyes of the girl. Angrily hecast aside the clothing. The eyes still held him in their power, and nowthey were scornful. They seemed to measure and weigh him: Amos Royson,murderer, perjurer, conspirator--thief! The words were spoken somewhere;they became vocal in that still room. Terrified, he looked to the manupon the bed and there he saw the eyes, half-open, fixed upon him andthe towel moving above the contemptuous lips. With one bound he passedfrom the room, down the steps, toward the door. Anywhere to be out ofthat room, that house!