Page 9 of Room Number 3, and Other Detective Stories

  THE HOUSE IN THE MIST

  (Copyright, 1905, by The Bobbs-Merrill Company Used by specialpermission of the publishers)

  I

  AN OPEN DOOR

  It was a night to drive any man indoors. Not only was the darknessimpenetrable, but the raw mist enveloping hill and valley made the openroad anything but desirable to a belated wayfarer like myself.

  Being young, untrammelled, and naturally indifferent to danger, I wasnot averse to adventure; and having my fortune to make, was always onthe lookout for El Dorado, which to ardent souls lies ever beyond thenext turning. Consequently, when I saw a light shimmering through themist at my right, I resolved to make for it and the shelter it soopportunely offered.

  But I did not realise then, as I do now, that shelter does notnecessarily imply refuge, or I might not have undertaken this adventurewith so light a heart. Yet who knows? The impulses of an unfetteredspirit lean toward daring, and youth, as I have said, seeks the strange,the unknown, and sometimes the terrible.

  My path towards this light was by no means an easy one. After confusedwanderings through tangled hedges, and a struggle with obstacles ofwhose nature I received the most curious impression in the surroundingmurk, I arrived in front of a long, low building, which, to myastonishment, I found standing with doors and windows open to thepervading mist, save for one square casement, through which the lightshone from a row of candles placed on a long mahogany table.

  The quiet and seeming emptiness of this odd and picturesque buildingmade me pause. I am not much affected by visible danger, but this silentroom, with its air of sinister expectancy, struck me most unpleasantly,and I was about to reconsider my first impulse and withdraw again to theroad, when a second look thrown back upon the comfortable interior I wasleaving convinced me of my folly, and sent me straight toward the doorwhich stood so invitingly open.

  But half-way up the path my progress was again stayed by the sight of aman issuing from the house I had so rashly looked upon as devoid of allhuman presence. He seemed in haste, and at the moment my eye first fellon him was engaged in replacing his watch in his pocket.

  But he did not shut the door behind him, which I thought odd, especiallyas his final glance had been a backward one, and seemed to take in allthe appointments of the place he was so hurriedly leaving.

  As we met he raised his hat. This likewise struck me as peculiar, forthe deference he displayed was more marked than that usually bestowed onstrangers, while his lack of surprise at an encounter more or lessstartling in such a mist, was calculated to puzzle an ordinary man likemyself. Indeed, he was so little impressed by my presence there that hewas for passing me without a word or any other hint of good-fellowshipsave the bow of which I have spoken. But this did not suit me. I washungry, cold, and eager for creature comforts, and the house before megave forth, not only heat, but a savoury odour which in itself was aninvitation hard to ignore. I therefore accosted the man.

  "Will bed and supper be provided for me here?" I asked. "I am tired outwith a long tramp over the hills, and hungry enough to pay anything inreason----"

  I stopped, for the man had disappeared. He had not paused at my appeal,and the mist had swallowed him. But at the break in my sentence hisvoice came back in good-natured tones, and I heard:

  "Supper will be ready at nine, and there are beds for all. Enter, sir;you are the first to arrive, but the others cannot be far behind."

  A queer greeting certainly. But when I strove to question him as to itsmeaning, his voice returned to me from such a distance that I doubted ifmy words had reached him any more than his answer had reached me.

  "Well," thought I, "it isn't as if a lodging had been denied me. Heinvited me to enter, and enter I will."

  The house, to which I now naturally directed a glance of much morecareful scrutiny than before, was no ordinary farm-building, but arambling old mansion, made conspicuously larger here and there byjutting porches and more than one convenient lean-to. Though furnished,warmed, and lighted with candles, as I have previously described, it hadabout it an air of disuse which made me feel myself an intruder, inspite of the welcome I had received. But I was not in a position tostand upon ceremony, and ere long I found myself inside the great roomand before the blazing logs whose glow had lighted up the doorway andadded its own attraction to the other allurements of the inviting place.

  Though the open door made a draught which was anything but pleasant, Idid not feel like closing it, and was astonished to observe the effectof the mist through the square thus left open to the night. It was notan agreeable one, and, instinctively turning my back upon that quarterof the room, I let my eyes roam over the wainscoted walls and the oddpieces of furniture which gave such an air of old-fashioned richness tothe place. As nothing of the kind had ever fallen under my eyes before,I would have thoroughly enjoyed this opportunity of gratifying my tastefor the curious and the beautiful, if the quaint old chairs I sawstanding about me on every side had not all been empty. But the solitudeof the place, so much more oppressive than the solitude of the road Ihad left, struck cold to my heart, and I missed the cheer rightfullybelonging to such attractive surroundings. Suddenly I bethought me ofthe many other apartments likely to be found in so spacious a dwelling,and, going to the nearest door, I opened it and called out for themaster of the house. But only an echo came back, and returning to thefire, I sat down before the cheering blaze, in quiet acceptance of asituation too lonely for comfort, yet not without a certain piquantinterest for a man of free mind and adventurous disposition like myself.

  After all, if supper was to be served at nine, some one must be expectedto eat it; I should surely not be left much longer without companions.

  Meanwhile ample amusement awaited me in the contemplation of a picturewhich, next to the large fireplace, was the most prominent object in theroom. This picture was a portrait, and a remarkable one. The countenanceit portrayed was both characteristic and forcible, and so interested methat in studying it I quite forgot both hunger and weariness. Indeed itseffect upon me was such that, after gazing at it uninterruptedly for afew minutes, I discovered that its various features--the narrow eyes inwhich a hint of craft gave a strange gleam to their native intelligence;the steadfast chin, strong as the rock of the hills I had wearilytramped all day; the cunning wrinkles which yet did not interfere with alatent great-heartedness that made the face as attractive as it waspuzzling--had so established themselves in my mind that I continued tosee them before me whichever way I turned, and even found it impossibleto shake off their influence after I had resolutely set my mind inanother direction by endeavouring to recall what I knew of the towninto which I had strayed.

  I had come from Scranton, and was now, according to my best judgment, inone of those rural districts of Western Pennsylvania which breed suchstrange and sturdy characters. But of this special neighbourhood, itsinhabitants, and its industries, I knew nothing, nor was I likely tobecome acquainted with it so long as I remained in the solitude I havedescribed.

  But these impressions and these thoughts--if thoughts theywere--presently received a check. A loud "Halloo!" rose from somewherein the mist, followed by a string of muttered imprecations, whichconvinced me that the person now attempting to approach the house wasencountering some of the many difficulties which had beset me in thesame undertaking a few minutes before.

  I therefore raised my voice and shouted out, "Here! This way!" afterwhich I sat still and awaited developments.

  There was a huge clock in one of the corners, whose loud tick filled upevery interval of silence. By this clock it was just ten minutes toeight when two gentlemen--I should say men, and coarse men atthat--crossed the open threshold and entered the house.

  Their appearance was more or less noteworthy--unpleasantly so, I amobliged to add. One was red-faced and obese; the other was tall, thin,and wiry, and showed as many seams in his face as a blighted apple.Neither of the two had anything to recommend him either in appearance oraddress, save a certain veneer of pol
ite assumption as transparent as itwas offensive. As I listened to the forced sallies of the one and thehollow laugh of the other, I was glad that I was large of frame andstrong of arm, and used to all kinds of men and--brutes.

  As these two newcomers seemed no more astonished at my presence than theman I had met at the gate, I checked the question which instinctivelyrose to my lips, and with a simple bow--responded to by a more or lessfamiliar nod from either--accepted the situation with all the_sang-froid_ the occasion seemed to demand. Perhaps this was wise,perhaps it was not; there was little opportunity to judge, for the startthey both gave as they encountered the eyes of the picture beforementioned drew my attention to a consideration of the different ways inwhich men, however similar in other respects, express sudden andunlooked-for emotion. The big man simply allowed his astonishment,dread, or whatever the feeling was which moved him, to ooze forth in acold and deathly perspiration which robbed his cheeks of colour, andcast a bluish shadow over his narrow and retreating temples; while thethin and waspish man, caught in the same trap (for trap I saw it was),shouted aloud in his ill-timed mirth, the false and cruel character ofwhich would have made me shudder, if all expression of feeling on mypart had not been held in check by the interest I immediatelyexperienced in the display of open bravado with which, in anothermoment, these two tried to carry off their mutual embarrassment.

  "Good likeness, eh?" laughed the seamy-faced man. "Quite an idea that!Makes him one of us again! Well, he's welcome--in oils. Can't say muchto us from canvas, eh?" And the rafters above him vibrated, as hisviolent efforts at joviality went up in loud and louder assertion fromhis thin throat.

  A nudge from the other's elbow stopped him, and I saw them both casthalf-lowering, half-inquisitive glances in my direction.

  "One of the Witherspoon boys?" queried one.

  "Perhaps," snarled the other. "I never saw but one of them. There arefive, aren't there? Eustace believed in marrying off his gals young."

  "Damn him, yes! And he'd have married them off younger if he had knownhow numbers were going to count some day among the Westonhaughs." And helaughed again in a way I should certainly have felt it my business toresent if my indignation, as well as the ill-timed allusions which hadcalled it forth, had not been put to an end by a fresh arrival throughthe veiling mist which hung like a shroud at the doorway.

  This time it was for me to experience a shock of something like fear.Yet the personage who called up this unlooked-for sensation in mynaturally hardy nature was old, and to all appearance harmless fromdisability, if not from good-will. His form was bent over upon itselflike a bow; and only from the glances he shot from his upturned eyeswas the fact made evident that a redoubtable nature, full of force andmalignity, had just brought its quota of evil into a room alreadyoverflowing with dangerous and menacing passions.

  As this old wretch, either from the feebleness of age or from theinfirmity I have mentioned, had great difficulty in walking, he hadbrought with him a small boy, whose business it was to direct histottering steps as best he could.

  But once settled in his chair, he drove away this boy with his pointedoak stick, and with some harsh words about caring for the horse andbeing in time in the morning, he sent him out into the mist. As thislittle shivering and pathetic figure vanished, the old man drew withgasp and haw a number of deep breaths, which shook his bent back, anddid their share, no doubt, in restoring his own disturbed circulation.Then, with a sinister twist which brought his pointed chin and twinklingeyes again into view, he remarked:

  "Haven't ye a word for kinsman Luke, you two? It isn't often I get outamong ye. Shakee, nephew! Shakee, Hector! And now, who's the boy in thewindow? My eyes aren't what they used to be, but he don't seem to favourthe Westonhaughs overmuch. One of Salmon's four grandchildren, think 'e?Or a shoot from Eustace's gnarled old trunk? His gals all marriedAmericans, and one of them, I've been told, was a yellow-haired giantlike this fellow."

  At this description, pointed directly toward me, I was about to venturea response on my own account, when my attention, as well as theirs, wasfreshly attracted by a loud "Whoa!" at the gate, followed by the hastybut assured entrance of a dapper, wizen, but perfectly preserved littleold gentleman with a bag in his hand.

  Looking askance with eyes that were like two beads, first at the twomen, who were now elbowing each other for the best place before thefire, and next at the revolting figure in the chair, he bestowed hisgreeting, which consisted of an elaborate bow, not on them, but upon thepicture hanging so conspicuously on the open wall before him; and then,taking me within the scope of his quick, circling glance, cried out withan assumption of great cordiality:

  "Good-evening, gentlemen; good-evening one, good-evening all. Nothinglike being on the tick. I'm sorry the night has turned out so badly.Some may find it too thick for travel. That would be bad, eh? verybad--for _them_."

  As none of the men he openly addressed saw fit to answer, save by thehitch of a shoulder or a leer quickly suppressed, I kept silent also.But this reticence, marked as it was, did not seem to offend thenewcomer. Shaking the wet from the umbrella he held, he stood thedripping article up in a corner, and then came and placed his feet onthe fender. To do this he had to crowd between the two men alreadyoccupying the best part of the hearth. But he showed no concern atincommoding them, and bore their cross looks and threatening gestureswith professional equanimity.

  "You know me?" he now unexpectedly snapped, bestowing another look overhis shoulder at that oppressive figure in the chair. (Did I say that Ihad risen when the latter sat?) "I'm no Westonhaugh, I; nor yet aWitherspoon nor a Clapsaddle. I'm only Smead, the lawyer--Mr. AnthonyWestonhaugh's lawyer," he repeated, with another glance of recognitionin the direction of the picture. "I drew up his last will and testament,and, until all of his wishes have been duly carried out, am entitled bythe terms of that will to be regarded both legally and socially as hisrepresentative. This you all know, but it is my way to make everythingclear as I proceed. A lawyer's trick, no doubt. I do not pretend to beentirely exempt from such."

  A grumble from the large man, who seemed to have been disturbed in someabsorbing calculation he was carrying on, mingled with a few mutteredwords of forced acknowledgment from the restless old sinner in thechair, made it unnecessary for me to reply, even if the last comer hadgiven me the opportunity.

  "It's getting late!" he cried, with an easy garrulity rather amusingunder the circumstances. "Two more trains came in as I left the depot.If old Phil was on hand with his waggon, several more members of thisinteresting family may be here before the clock strikes; if not, theassemblage is like to be small. Too small," I heard him grumble aminute after, under his breath.

  "I wish it were a matter of one," spoke up the big man, striking hisbreast in a way to make it perfectly apparent whom he meant by that word_one_. And having (if I may judge by the mingled laugh and growl of hiscompanions) thus shown his hand both figuratively and literally, herelapsed into the calculation which seemed to absorb all of hisunoccupied moments.

  "Generous, very!" commented the lawyer in a murmur which was more thanaudible. "Pity that sentiments of such broad benevolence should gounrewarded."

  This, because at that very instant wheels were heard in front, also ajangle of voices, in some controversy about fares, which promisedanything but a pleasing addition to the already none too desirablecompany.

  "I suppose that's Sister Janet," snarled out the one addressed asHector. There was no love in his voice, despite the relationship hintedat, and I awaited the entrance of this woman with some curiosity.

  But her appearance, heralded by many a puff and pant which the damp airexaggerated in a prodigious way, did not seem to warrant the interest Ihad shown in it. As she stepped into the room I saw only a big frowsywoman, who had attempted to make a show with a new silk dress and a hatin the latest fashion, but who had lamentably failed owing to theslouchiness of her figure and some misadventure, by which her hat hadbeen set awry on her head and her usual complacency
destroyed. Later, Inoted that her down-looking eyes had a false twinkle in them, and that,commonplace as she looked, she was one to steer clear of in times ofnecessity and distress.

  She, too, evidently expected to find the door open and people assembled,but she had not anticipated being confronted by the portrait on thewall, and cringed in an unpleasant way as she stumbled by it into one ofthe ill-lighted corners.

  The old man, who had doubtless caught the rustle of her dress as shepassed him, emitted one short sentence.

  "Almost late," said he.

  Her answer was a sputter of words.

  "It's the fault of that driver," she complained. "If he had taken onedrop more at the half-way house I might really not have got here at all.That would not have inconvenienced _you_. But oh! what a grudge I wouldhave owed that skinflint brother of ours"--here she shook her fist atthe picture--"for making our good luck depend upon our arrival withintwo short strokes of the clock!"

  "There are several to come yet," blandly observed the lawyer. But beforethe words were well out of his mouth we all became aware of a newpresence--a woman, whose sombre grace and quiet bearing gave distinctionto her unobtrusive entrance, and caused a feeling of something like aweto follow the first sight of her cold features and deep,heavily-fringed eyes. But this soon passed in the more human sentimentawakened by the soft pleading which infused her gaze with a touchingfemininity. She wore a long loose garment, which fell without a foldfrom chin to foot, and in her arms she seemed to carry something.

  Never before had I seen so beautiful a woman. As I was contemplatingher, with respect but yet with a masculine intentness I could not quitesuppress, two or three other persons came in. And now I began to noticethat the eyes of all these people turned mainly one way, and that wastoward the clock. Another small circumstance likewise drew my attention.Whenever any one entered--and there were one or two additional arrivalsduring the five minutes preceding the striking of the hour--a frownsettled for an instant on every brow, giving to each and all a similarlook, for the interpretation of which I lacked the key. Yet not on everybrow either. There was one which remained undisturbed, and showed only agrand patience.

  As the hands of the big clock neared the point of eight a furtive smileappeared on more than one face; and when the hour rang out a sigh ofsatisfaction swept through the room, to which the little old lawyerresponded with a worldly-wise grunt as he moved from his place andproceeded to the door.

  This he had scarcely shut when a chorus of voices rose from without.Three or four lingerers had pushed their way as far as the gate, onlyto see the door of the house shut in their faces.

  "Too late!" growled old man Luke from between the locks of his longbeard.

  "Too late!" shrieked the woman who had come so near being late herself.

  "Too late!" smoothly acquiesced the lawyer, locking and bolting the doorwith a deft and assured hand.

  But the four or five persons who thus found themselves barred out didnot accept without a struggle the decision of the more fortunate onesassembled within. More than one hand began pounding on the door, and wecould hear cries of: "The train was behind time!" "Your clock is fast!""You are cheating us; you want it all for yourselves!" "We will have thelaw on you!" and other bitter adjurations unintelligible to me from myignorance of the circumstances which called them forth.

  But the wary old lawyer simply shook his head and answered nothing;whereat a murmur of gratification rose from within, and a howl of almostfrenzied dismay from without, which latter presently received point froma startling vision which now appeared at the casement where the lightsburned. A man's face looked in, and behind it, that of a woman, so wildand maddened by some sort of heart-break that I found my sympathiesaroused in spite of the glare of evil passions which made both of thesecountenances something less than human.

  But the lawyer met the stare of these four eyes with a quiet chuckle,which found its echo in the ill-advised mirth of those about him; andmoving over to the window where they still peered in, he drew togetherthe two heavy shutters which hitherto had stood back against the wall,and, fastening them with a bar, shut out the sight of this despair, ifhe could not shut out the protests which ever and anon were shoutedthrough the keyhole.

  Meanwhile, one form had sat through this whole incident without agesture; and on the quiet brow, from which I could not keep my eyes, noshadows appeared save the perpetual one of native melancholy, which wasat once the source of its attraction and the secret of its power.

  Into what sort of gathering had I stumbled? And why did I prefer toawait developments rather than ask the simplest question of any oneabout me?

  Meantime the lawyer had proceeded to make certain preparations. With thehelp of one or two willing hands he had drawn the great table into themiddle of the room, and, having seen the candles restored to theirplaces, began to open his small bag and take from it a roll of paper andseveral flat documents. Laying the latter in the centre of the table andslowly unrolling the former, he consulted, with his foxy eyes, the facessurrounding him, and smiled with secret malevolence, as he noted thatevery chair and every form was turned away from the picture before whichhe had bent with such obvious courtesy on entering. I alone stooderect, and this possibly was why a gleam of curiosity was noticeable inhis glance, as he ended his scrutiny of my countenance and bent his gazeagain upon the paper he held.

  "Heavens!" thought I. "What shall I answer this man if he asks me why Icontinued to remain in a spot where I have so little business?"

  The impulse came to go. But such was the effect of this strangeconvocation of persons, at night and in a mist which was itself anightmare, that I failed to take action and remained riveted to myplace, while Mr. Smead consulted his roll and finally asked in abusiness-like tone, quite unlike his previous sarcastic speech, thenames of those whom he had the pleasure of seeing before him.

  The old man in the chair spoke up first.

  "Luke Westonhaugh," he announced.

  "Very good!" responded the lawyer.

  "Hector Westonhaugh," came from the thin man.

  A nod and a look toward the next.

  "John Westonhaugh."

  "Nephew?" asked the lawyer.

  "Yes."

  "Go on, and be quick; supper will be ready at nine."

  "Eunice Westonhaugh," spoke up a soft voice.

  I felt my heart bound as if some inner echo responded to that name.

  "Daughter of whom?"

  "Hudson Westonhaugh," she gently faltered. "My father is dead--died lastnight. I am his only heir."

  A grumble of dissatisfaction and a glint of unrelieved hate came fromthe doubled-up figure, whose malevolence had so revolted me.

  But the lawyer was not to be shaken.

  "Very good! It is fortunate you trusted your feet rather than the train.And now you? What is your name?"

  He was looking, not at me, as I had at first feared, but at the man nextto me, a slim but slippery youth, whose small red eyes made me shudder.

  "William Witherspoon."

  "Barbara's son?"

  "Yes."

  "Where are your brothers?"

  "One of them, I think, is outside"--here he laughed--"the otheris--_sick_."

  The way he uttered this word made me set him down as one to beespecially wary of when he smiled. But then, I had already passedjudgment on him at my first view.

  "And you, madam?"--this to the large, dowdy woman with the uncertaineye, a contrast to the young and melancholy Eunice.

  "Janet Clapsaddle," she replied, waddling hungrily forward and gettingunpleasantly near the speaker, for he moved off as she approached, andtook his stand in the clear space at the head of the table.

  "Very well, Mistress Clapsaddle. You were a Westonhaugh, I believe?"

  "You _believe_, sneak-faced hypocrite that you are!" she blurted out. "Idon't understand your lawyer ways. I like plain speaking myself. Don'tyou know me, and Luke and Hector, and--and most of us, indeed, exceptthat puny, white-faced girl yonder, w
hom, having been brought up on theother side of the Ridge, we have none of us seen since she was ascreaming baby in Hildegarde's arms. And the young gentleman overthere"--here she indicated me--"who shows so little likeness to the restof the family, he will have to make his connection to us pretty plainbefore we shall feel like acknowledging him, either as the son of one ofEustace's girls, or a chip from Brother Salmon's hard old block."

  As this caused all eyes to turn upon me, even _hers_, I smiled as Istepped forward. The lawyer did not return that smile.

  "What is your name?" he asked shortly and sharply, as if he distrustedme.

  "Hugh Austin," was my quiet reply.

  "There is no such name on the list," snapped old Smead, with anauthoritative gesture toward those who seemed anxious to enter aprotest.

  "Probably not," I returned, "for I am not a Witherspoon, a Westonhaugh,nor yet a Clapsaddle. I am merely a chance wayfarer passing through thetown on my way West. I thought this house was a tavern, or at least aplace I could lodge in. The man I met in the doorway told me as much,and so I am here. If my company is not agreeable, or if you wish thisroom to yourselves, let me go into the kitchen. I promise not to meddlewith the supper, hungry as I am. Or perhaps you wish me to join thecrowd outside; it seems to be increasing."

  "No, no," came from all parts of the room. "Don't let the door beopened. Nothing could keep Lemuel and his crowd out if they once gotfoot over the threshold."

  The lawyer rubbed his chin. He seemed to be in some sort of quandary.First he scrutinised me from under his shaggy brows with a sharp gleamof suspicion; then his features softened, and, with a side-glance at theyoung woman who called herself Eunice (perhaps, because she was worthlooking at, perhaps because she had partly risen at my words), heslipped toward a door I had before observed in the wainscoting on theleft of the mantelpiece, and softly opened it upon what looked like anarrow staircase.

  "We cannot let you go out," said he; "and we cannot let you have afinger in our viands before the hour comes for serving them; so if youwill be so good as to follow this staircase to the top, you will find itends in a room comfortable enough for the wayfarer you call yourself. Inthat room you can rest till the way is clear for you to continue yourtravels. Better we cannot do for you. This house is not a tavern, butthe somewhat valuable property of----" He turned with a bow and smile,as every one there drew a deep breath; but no one ventured to end thatsentence.

  I would have given all my future prospects (which, by the way, were notvery great) to remain in that room. The oddity of the situation; themystery of the occurrence; the suspense I saw in every face; theeagerness of the cries I heard redoubled from time to time outside; themalevolence but poorly disguised in the old lawyer's countenance; and,above all, the presence of that noble-looking woman, which was the oneoff-set to the general tone of villainy with which the room was charged,filled me with curiosity, if I might call it by no other name, that mademy acquiescence in the demand thus made upon me positively heroic. Butthere seemed no other course for me to follow, and with a last lingeringglance at the genial fire and a quick look about me, which, happily,encountered hers, I stooped my head to suit the low and narrow doorwayopened for my accommodation, and instantly found myself in darkness. Thedoor had been immediately closed by the lawyer's impatient hand.

  II

  WITH MY EAR TO THE WAINSCOTING

  No move more unwise could have been made by the old lawyer--that is, ifhis intention had been to rid himself of an unwelcome witness. For,finding myself thrust thus suddenly from the scene, I naturally stoodstill instead of mounting the stairs, and, by standing still, discoveredthat though shut from sight, I was not from sound. Distinctly throughthe panel of the door, which was much thinner, no doubt, than the oldfox imagined, I heard one of the men present shout out:

  "Well, that makes the number less by _one_!"

  The murmur which followed this remark came plainly to my ears, and,greatly rejoicing over what I considered my good luck, I settled myselfon the lowest step of the stairs in the hope of catching some word whichwould reveal to me the mystery of this scene.

  It was not long in coming. Old Smead had now his audience before him ingood shape, and his next words were of a character to make evident thepurpose of this meeting.

  "Heirs of Anthony Westonhaugh, deceased," he began in a sing-song voicestrangely unmusical, "I congratulate you upon your good fortune at beingat this especial moment on the inner rather than outer side of youramiable relative's front-door. His will, which you have assembled tohear read, is well known to you. By it his whole property--not so largeas some of you might wish, but yet a goodly property for farmers likeyourselves--is to be divided this night, share and share alike, amongsuch of his relatives as have found it convenient to be present herebetween the strokes of half-past seven and eight. If some of our friendshave failed us through sloth, sickness, or the misfortune of mistakingthe road, they have our sympathy, but _they cannot have his dollars_."

  "Cannot have his dollars!" echoed a rasping voice which from itssmothered sound probably came from the bearded lips of the old reprobatein the chair.

  The lawyer waited for one or two other repetitions of this phrase (aphrase which, for some unimaginable reason, seemed to give him an oddsort of pleasure), then he went on with greater distinctness and acertain sly emphasis, chilling in effect, but very professional:

  "Ladies and gentlemen, shall I read this will?"

  "No, no! The division! the division! Tell us what we are to have!" rosein a shout about him.

  There was a pause. I could imagine the sharp eyes of the lawyertravelling from face to face as each thus gave voice to his cupidity,and the thin curl of his lips as he remarked in a low, tantalising way:

  "There was more in the old man's clutches than you think."

  A gasp of greed shook the partition against which my ear was pressed.Some one must have backed up against the wainscoting since my departurefrom the room. I found myself wondering which of them it was. Meantimeold Smead was having his say, with the smoothness of a man who perfectlyunderstands what is required of him.

  "Mr. Westonhaugh would not have put you to so much trouble or had youwait so long if he had not expected to reward you amply. There areshares in this bag which are worth thousands instead of hundreds. Now,now stop that! Hands off! hands off! There are calculations to makefirst. How many of you are there? Count yourselves up."

  "Nine!" called out a voice with such rapacious eagerness that the wordwas almost unintelligible.

  "Nine." How slowly the old knave spoke! What pleasure he seemed to takein the suspense he purposely made as exasperating as possible!

  "Well, if each one gets his share, he may count himself richer by twohundred thousand dollars than when he came in here to-night."

  Two hundred thousand dollars! They had expected no more than thirty.Surprise made them speechless--that is, for a moment; then a pandemoniumof hurrahs, shrieks, and loud-voiced enthusiasm made the room ring tillwonder seized them again, and a sudden silence fell, through which Icaught a far-off wail of grief from the disappointed ones without,which, heard in the dark and narrow place in which I was confined, had apeculiarly weird and desolate effect.

  Perhaps it likewise was heard by some of the fortunate ones within!Perhaps one head, to mark which, in this moment of universal elation, Iwould have given a year from my life, turned toward the dark without, inrecognition of the despair thus piteously voiced; but if so, no token ofthe same came to me, and I could but hope that she had shown by somesuch movement the natural sympathy of her sex.

  Meanwhile the lawyer was addressing the company in his smoothest andmost sarcastic tones.

  "Mr. Westonhaugh was a wise man--a very wise man," he droned. "Heforesaw what your pleasure would be, and left a letter for you. Butbefore I read it, before I invite you to the board he ordered to bespread for you in honour of this happy occasion, there is one appeal hebade me make to those I should find assembled here. As you know, he wasnot personall
y acquainted with all the children and grandchildren of hismany brothers and sisters. Salmon's sons, for instance, were perfectstrangers to him, and all those boys and girls of the Evans's branchhave never been long enough this side of the mountains for him to knowtheir names, much less their temper or their lives. Yet his heirs--orsuch was his wish, his great wish--must be honest men, righteous intheir dealings, and of stainless lives. If, therefore, any one among youfeels that, for reasons he need not state, he has no right to accept hisshare of Anthony Westonhaugh's bounty, then that person is requested towithdraw before this letter to his heirs is read."

  Withdraw? Was the man a fool? _Withdraw?_ These cormorants! thesesuckers of blood! these harpies and vultures! I laughed as I imaginedsneaking Hector, malicious Luke, or brutal John responding to this naiveappeal, and then found myself wondering why no echo of my mirth camefrom the men themselves. They must have seen much more plainly than Idid the ludicrousness of their weak old kinsman's demand; yet Luke wasstill, Hector was still, and even John and the three or four others Ihave mentioned gave forth no audible token of disdain or surprise. I wasasking myself what sentiment of awe or fear restrained these selfishsouls, when I became conscious of a movement within, which presentlyresolved itself into a departing footstep.

  Some conscience there had been awakened. Some one was crossing the floortoward the door. Who? I waited in anxious expectancy for the word whichwas to enlighten me. Happily it came soon, and from the old lawyer'slips.

  "You do not feel yourself worthy?" he queried, in tones I had not heardfrom him before. "Why? What have you done that you should forego aninheritance to which these others feel themselves honestly entitled?"

  The voice which answered gave both my mind and heart a shock. It was_she_ who had risen at this call--_she_, the only true-faced personthere!

  Anxiously I listened for her reply. Alas! it was one of action ratherthan speech. As I afterwards heard, she simply opened her long cloak andshowed a little infant slumbering in her arms.

  "This is my reason," said she. "I have sinned in the eyes of the world,therefore I cannot take my share of Uncle Anthony's money. I did notknow he exacted an unblemished record from those he expected to enrich,or I would not have come."

  The sob which followed these last words showed at what a cost she thusrenounced a fortune of which she, of all present, perhaps, stood in thegreatest need; but there was no lingering in her step, and to me, whounderstood her fault only through the faint sound of infantile wailingwhich accompanied her departure, there was a nobility in her actionwhich raised her in an instant to an almost ideal height of unselfishvirtue.

  Perhaps they felt this, too. Perhaps even these hardened men and themore than hardened woman whose presence was in itself a blight,recognised heroism when they saw it; for when the lawyer, with a certainobvious reluctance, laid his hand on the bolts of the door with theremark, "This is not my work, you know; I am but following outinstructions very minutely given me," the smothered growls and gruntswhich rose in reply lacked the venom which had been infused into alltheir previous comments.

  "I think our friends out there are far enough withdrawn by this time forus to hazard the opening of the door," the lawyer now remarked. "Madam,I hope you will speedily find your way to some comfortable shelter."

  Then the door opened, and after a moment closed again in a silence whichat least was respectful. Yet I warrant there was not a soul remainingwho had not already figured in his mind to what extent his own fortunehad been increased by the failure of one of their number to inherit.

  As for me, my whole interest in the affair was at an end, and I was onlyanxious to find my way to where this desolate woman faced the mist withher unfed baby in her arms.

  III

  A LIFE DRAMA

  But, to reach this wanderer, it was first necessary for me to escapefrom the house. This proved simple enough. The upstairs room towardwhich I rushed had a window overlooking one of the many lean-tos alreadymentioned. The window was fastened, but I had little difficulty inunlocking it or in finding my way to the ground from the top of thelean-to. But once again on _terra-firma_, I discovered that the mist wasnow so thick that it had all the effect of a fog at sea. It was icy coldas well, and clung to me so closely that I presently began to shuddermost violently, and, strong man though I was, wish myself back in thelittle attic bedroom from which I had climbed in search of one in moreunhappy case than myself.

  But these feelings did not cause me to return. If I found the nightcold, she must find it biting. If desolation oppressed my naturallyhopeful spirit, must it not be more overwhelming yet to one whosememories were sad and whose future was doubtful? And the child! Whatinfant could live in an air like this? Edging away from the house, Icalled out her name, but no answer came back. The persons whom we hadheard flitting in restless longing about the house a few moments beforehad left in rage, and she, possibly, with them. Yet I could not imagineher joining herself to people of their stamp. There had been asolitariness in her aspect which seemed to forbid any suchcompanionship. Whatever her story, at least she had nothing in commonwith the two ill-favoured persons whose faces I had seen looking in atthe casement. No; I should find her alone, but where? Certainly the ringof mist, surrounding me at that moment, offered me little prospect offinding her anywhere, either easily or soon.

  Again I raised my voice, and again I failed to meet with response. Then,fearing to leave the house lest I should be quite lost amid the fencesand brush lying between it and the road, I began to feel my way alongthe walls, calling softly now, instead of loudly, so anxious was I notto miss any chance of carrying comfort, if not succour, to the woman Iwas seeking. But the night gave back no sound, and when I came to theopen door of a shed I welcomed the refuge it offered, and stepped in. Iwas, of course, confronted by darkness--a different darkness from thatwithout, blanket-like and impenetrable. But when after a moment ofintense listening I heard a soft sound as of weariful breathing, I wasseized anew by hope, and, feeling in my pocket for my matchbox, I made alight and looked around.

  My intuitions had not deceived me: she was there. Sitting on the floorwith her cheek pressed against the wall, she revealed to my eagerscrutiny only the outlines of her pure, pale profile; but in thoseoutlines and on those pure, pale features I saw such an abandonment ofhope, mingled with such quiet endurance, that my whole soul meltedbefore it, and it was with difficulty I managed to say:

  "Pardon! I do not wish to intrude; but I am shut out of the house also,and the night is raw and cold. Can I do nothing for your comfort orfor--for the child's?"

  She turned toward me, and I saw the faintest gleam of pleasure tremblein the sombre stillness of her face, and then the match went out in myhand, and we were again in complete darkness. But the little wail, whichat the same instant rose from between her arms, filled up the pause asher sweet "Hush!" filled my heart.

  "I am used to the cold," came in another moment from the place where shecrouched. "It is the child--she is hungry; and I--I walkedhere--feeling, hoping that, as my father's heir, I might partake in someslight measure of Uncle Anthony's money. Though my father cast me outbefore he died, and I have neither home nor money, I do not complain. Iforfeited all when----" Another wail, another gentle "Hush!" thensilence.

  I lit another match. "Look in my face!" I prayed. "I am a stranger, andyou would be showing only proper prudence not to trust me. But Ioverheard your words when you withdrew from the room where your fortunelay; and I honour you, madam. If food can be got for your little one, Iwill get it."

  I caught sight of the convulsive clasp with which she drew to her breastthe tiny bundle she held; then darkness fell again.

  "A little bread," she entreated; "a little milk--ah, baby, baby, hush!"

  "But where can I get it?" I cried. "They are at table inside. I hearthem shouting over their good cheer. But perhaps there are neighboursnear by. Do you know?"

  "There are no neighbours," she replied. "What is got must be got here. Iknow a way to the kitchen;
I used to visit Uncle Anthony when a littlechild. If you have the courage----"

  I laughed. This token of confidence seemed to reassure her. I heard hermove; possibly she stood up.

  "In the further corner of this shed," said she, "there used to be atrap, connecting this floor with an underground passage-way. A ladderstood against the trap, and the small cellar at the foot communicated bymeans of an iron-bound door with the large one under the house. Eighteenyears ago the wood of that door was old; now it should be rotten. If youhave the strength----"

  "I will make the effort and see," said I. "But when I am in the cellar,what then?"

  "Follow the wall to the right; you will come to a stone staircase. Asthis staircase has no railing, be careful in ascending it. At the topyou will find a door; it leads into a pantry adjoining the kitchen. Someone will be in that pantry. Some one will give you a bite for the child,and when she is quieted and the sun has risen I will go away. It is myduty to do so. My uncle was always upright, if cold. He was perfectlyjustified in exacting rectitude in his heirs."

  I might have rejoined by asking if she detected rectitude in the facesof the greedy throng she had left behind her with the guardian of thisestate, but I did not; I was too intent upon following out herdirections. Lighting another match, I sought the trap. Alas! it wasburdened with a pile of sticks and rubbish which looked as if they hadlain there for years. As these had to be removed in total darkness, ittook me some time. But once this debris had been scattered and thrownaside, I had no difficulty in finding the trap, and, as the ladder wasstill there, I was soon on the cellar-bottom. When, by the reassuringshout I gave, she knew that I had advanced thus far, she spoke, and hervoice had a soft and thrilling sound.

  "Don't forget your own needs," she said. "We two are not so hungry thatwe cannot wait for you to take a mouthful. I will sing to the baby.Good-bye."

  These ten minutes we had spent together had made us friends. The warmth,the strength which this discovery brought, gave to my arm a force thatmade that old oak door go down before me in three vigorous pushes.

  Had the eight fortunate ones above not been indulging in a noisycelebration of their good luck, they must have heard the clatter of thisdoor when it fell. But good eating, good drink, and the prospect of animmediate fortune far beyond their wildest dreams, made all ears deaf,and no pause occurred in the shouts of laughter and the hum ofgood-fellowship which sifted down between the beams supporting the houseabove my head. Consequently, little or no courage was required for thecompletion of my adventure; and before long I came upon the staircaseand the door leading from its top into the pantry. The next minute I wasin front of that door.

  But here a surprise awaited me. The noise, which had hitherto been loud,now became deafening, and I realised that, contrary to EuniceWestonhaugh's expectation, the supper had been spread in the kitchen,and that I was likely to run amuck of the whole despicable crowd in anyeffort I might make to get a bite for the famished baby.

  I therefore naturally hesitated to push open the door, fearing to drawattention to myself; and when I did succeed in lifting the latch andmaking a small crack, I was so astonished by the sudden lull in thegeneral babble that I drew hastily back and was for descending thestairs in sudden retreat.

  But I was prevented from carrying out this cowardly impulse by catchingthe sound of the lawyer's voice, addressing the assembled guests.

  "You have eaten and you have drunk," he was saying; "you are thereforeready for the final toast. Brothers, nephews--heirs all of AnthonyWestonhaugh, I rise to propose the name of your generous benefactor,who, if spirits walk this earth, must certainly be with us to-night."

  A grumble from more than one throat and an uneasy hitch from suchshoulders as I could see through my narrow vantage-hole testified to therather doubtful pleasure with which this suggestion was received. Butthe lawyer's tones lost none of their animation, as he went on to say:

  "The bottle, from which your glasses are to be replenished for thisfinal draught, he has himself provided. So anxious was he that it shouldbe of the very best and altogether worthy of the occasion it is tocelebrate, that he gave into my charge, almost with his dying breath,this key, telling me that it would unlock a cupboard here in which hehad placed a bottle of wine of the very rarest vintage. This is the key,and yonder, if I do not mistake, is the cupboard."

  They had already quaffed a dozen toasts. Perhaps this was why theyaccepted this proposition in a sort of panting silence, which remainedunbroken while the lawyer crossed the floor, unlocked the cupboard, andbrought out before them a bottle which he held up before their eyes witha simulated glee almost saturnine.

  "Isn't that a bottle to make your eyes dance? The very cobwebs on it areeloquent. And see! look at this label. Tokay, friends--real Tokay! Mowmany of you ever had the opportunity of drinking real Tokay before?"

  A long deep sigh from a half-dozen throats, in which some strong buthitherto repressed passion, totally incomprehensible to me, found suddenvent, rose in one simultaneous sound from about that table, and I heardone jocular voice sing out:

  "Pass it around, Smead! I'll drink to Uncle Anthony out of that bottletill there isn't a drop left to tell what was in it!"

  But the lawyer was in no hurry.

  "You have forgotten the letter, for the hearing of which you are calledtogether. Mr. Anthony Westonhaugh left behind him a letter. The time isnow come for reading it."

  As I heard these words, and realised that the final toast was to bedelayed, and that some few moments must yet elapse before the room wouldbe cleared and an opportunity given me for obtaining what I needed forthe famishing mother and child, I felt such impatience with the fact,and so much anxiety as to the condition of those I had left behind me,that I questioned whether it would not be better for me to return tothem empty-handed than to leave them so long without the comfort of mypresence, when the fascination of the scene again seized me, and I foundmyself lingering to mark its conclusion with an avidity which can onlybe explained by my sudden and intense consciousness of what it all mightmean to her whose witness I had thus inadvertently become.

  The careful lawyer began by quoting the injunction with which thisletter had been put in his hands. "'When they are warm with food andwine, but not too warm'--thus his adjuration ran--'then let them hear myfirst and only words to them.' I know you are eager for these words.Folk so honest, so convinced of their own purity and uprightness thatthey can stand unmoved while the youngest and most helpless among themwithdraws her claim to wealth and independence rather than share anunmerited bounty--such folk, I say, must be eager, must be anxious, toknow why they have been made the legatees of so great a fortune underthe easy conditions and amid such slight restrictions as have beenimposed upon them by their munificent kinsman."

  "I had rather go on drinking toasts," babbled one thick voice.

  "I had rather finish my figuring," growled another, in whose gratingtones no echo remained of Hector Westonhaugh's formerly honeyed voice."I am making out a list of stock----"

  "Blast your stock--that is, if you mean horses and cows!" screamed athird. "I'm going in for city life. With less money than we have got,Andreas Amsberger got to be Alderman----"

  "Alderman!" sneered the whole pack; and the tumult became general. "Ifmore of us had been sick," called out one, "or if Uncle Luke, say, hadtripped into the ditch instead of on the edge of it, the fellows whocame safe through might have had anything they wanted, even to thegovernorship of the State, or--or----"

  "Silence!" came in commanding tones from the lawyer, who had begun tolet his disgust appear, perhaps because he held under his thumb thebottle upon which all eyes were now lovingly centred--so lovingly,indeed, that I ventured to increase in the smallest perceptible degreethe crack by means of which I was myself an interested, if unseen,participator in this scene.

  A sight of Smead, and a partial glimpse of old Luke's covetous profile,rewarded this small act of daring on my part. The lawyer was standing;all the rest were sitting. Perhaps
he alone retained sufficientsteadiness to stand, for I observed by the control he exercised overthis herd of self-seekers that he had not touched the cup which had sofreely gone about among the others. The woman was hidden from me, butthe change in her voice, when by any chance I heard it, convinced methat she had not disdained the toasts drunk by her brothers and nephews.

  "Silence!" the lawyer reiterated, "or I will smash this bottle on thehearth!" He raised it in one threatening hand, and every man thereseemed to tremble, while old Luke put out his long fingers with anentreaty that ill became them. "You want to hear the letter?" old Smeadcalled out. "I thought so."

  Putting the bottle down again, but still keeping one hand upon it, hedrew a folded paper from his breast. "This," said he, "contains thefinal injunctions of Anthony Westonhaugh. You will listen, all ofyou--listen till I am done--or I will not only smash this bottle beforeyour eyes, but I will keep forever buried in my breast the whereaboutsof certain drafts and bonds in which, as his heirs, you possess thegreatest interest. Nobody but myself knows where these papers can befound."

  Whether this was so, or whether the threat was an empty one, thrown outby this subtle old schemer for the purpose of safeguarding his life fromtheir possible hate and impatience, it answered his end with thesesemi-intoxicated men, and secured him the silence he demanded. Breakingopen the seal of the envelope he held, he showed them the folded sheetwhich it contained with the remark:

  "I have had nothing to do with the writing of this letter. It is in Mr.Westonhaugh's own hand, and he was not even so good as to communicate tome the nature of its contents. I was bidden to read it to such as shouldbe here assembled under the provisos mentioned in his will; and as youare now in a condition to listen, I will proceed with my task asrequired."

  This was my time for leaving, but a certain brooding terror, latent inthe air, held me chained to the spot, listening with my ears, butreceiving the full sense of what was read from the expression of oldLuke's face, which was probably more plainly visible to me than to thosewho sat beside him. For, being bent almost into a bow, as I have said,his forehead came within an inch of touching his plate, and one had tolook under his arms, as I did, to catch the workings of his evil mouth,as old Smead gave forth, in his professional sing-song, the followingwords from his departed client:

  "'Brothers, nephews, and heirs! Though the earth has lain upon my breasta month, I am with you here to-night.'"

  A snort from old Luke's snarling lips, and a stir--not a comfortableone--in the jostling crowd, whose shaking arms and clawing hands I couldsee projecting here and there over the board.

  "'My presence at this feast--a presence which, if unseen, cannot beunfelt, may bring you more pain than pleasure. But if so, it matterslittle. You are my natural heirs, and I have left you my money. Why,when so little love has characterised our intercourse, must be evidentto such of my brothers as can recall their youth and the promise ourfather exacted from us on the day we set foot in this new land.

  "'There were nine of us in those days--Luke, Salmon, Barbara, Hector,Eustace, Janet, Hudson, William, and myself--and all save one werepromising, in appearance at least. But our father knew his offspring,and when we stood, an alien and miserable band in front of CastleGarden, at the foot of the great city whose immensity struck terror toour hearts, he drew all our hands together and made us swear by the soulof our mother, whose body we had left in the sea, that we would keep thebond of brotherhood intact, and share with mutual confidence whatevergood fortune this untried country might hold in store for us. You werestrong, and your voices rang out loudly. Mine was faint, for I wasweak--so weak that my hand had to be held in place by my sister Barbara.But my oath has never lost its hold upon my heart, while yours--answerhow you have kept it, Luke; or you, Janet; or you, Hector, of the smoothtongue and vicious heart; or you, or you, who, from one stock, recognisebut one law--the law of cold-blooded selfishness, which seeks its own inface of all oaths and at the cost of another man's heart-break.

  "'This I say to such as know my story. But lest there be one amongst youwho has not heard from parent or uncle the true tale of him who hasbrought you all under one roof to-night, I will repeat it here in words,that no man may fail to understand why I remembered my oath through lifeand beyond death, yet stand above you an accusing spirit while you quaffme toasts and count the gains my justice divides among you.

  "'I, as you all remember, was the weak one--the ne'er-do-weel. When allof you were grown and had homes of your own, I still remained under thefamily roof-tree, fed by our father's bounty and looking to our father'sjustice for that share of his savings which he had promised to allalike. When he died it came to me as it came to you; but I had marriedbefore that day--married, not, like the rest of you, for what a wifecould bring, but for sentiment and true passion. This, in my case, meanta loving wife, but a frail one; and while we lived a little while on thepatrimony left us, it was far too small to support us long without someaid from our own hands; and our hands were feeble and could not work.And so we fell into debt for rent and, ere long, for the commonestnecessities of life. In vain I struggled to redeem myself; the time ofmy prosperity had not come, and I only sank deeper and deeper into debt,and finally into indigence. A baby came. Our landlord was kind, andallowed us to stay for two weeks under the roof for whose protection wecould not pay; but at the end of that time we were asked to leave, and Ifound myself on the road with a dying wife, a wailing infant, no moneyin my purse, and no power in my arm to earn any. Then, when heart andhope were both failing, I recalled that ancient oath and the sixprosperous homes scattered up and down the very highway on which Istood. I could not leave my wife; the fever was in her veins, and shecould not bear me out of her sight; so I put her on a horse, which akind old neighbour was willing to lend me, and holding her up with onehand, guided the horse with the other to the home of my brother Luke.He was a straight enough fellow in those days--physically, I mean--andhe looked able and strong that morning, as he stood in the open doorwayof his house, gazing down at us as we halted before him in the roadway.But his temper had grown greedy with the accumulation of a few dollars,and he shook his head as he closed his door, saying he remembered nooath, and that spenders must expect to be beggars.

  "'Struck to the heart by a rebuff which meant prolongation of thesuffering I saw in my dear wife's eyes, I stretched up and kissed herwhere she sat half fainting on the horse; then I moved on. I came toBarbara's home next. She had been a little mother to me once--that is,she had fed and dressed me, and doled out blows and caresses, and taughtme to read and sing. But Barbara in her father's home and withoutfortune was not the Barbara I saw on the threshold of the little cottageshe called her own. She heard my story; looked in the face of my wife,and turned her back. She had no place for idle folk in her little house;if we would work she would feed us; but we must earn our supper or gohungry to bed. I felt the trembling of my wife's frame where she leanedagainst my arm, and kissing her again, led her on to Salmon's. Luke,Hector, Janet, have you heard him tell of that vision at his gateway,twenty-five years ago? He is not amongst you. For twelve years he haslain beside our father in the churchyard, but his sons may be here, forthey were ever alert when gold was in sight or a full glass to bedrained. Ask _them_, ask John, whom I saw skulking behind his cousins atthe garden fence that day, what it was they saw as I drew rein under thegreat tree which shadowed their father's doorstep.

  "'The sunshine had been pitiless that morning, and the head, for whoserest in some loving shelter I would have bartered soul and body, hadfallen sidewise till it lay on my arm. Pressed to her breast was ourinfant, whose little wail struck in pitifully as Salmon called out,"What's to do here to-day?" Do you remember it, lads? Or how you alllaughed, little and great, when I asked for a few weeks' stay under mybrother's roof till we could all get well and go about our tasks again?_I_ remember. I, who am writing these words from the very mouth of thetomb, _I_ remember; but I did not curse you. I only rode on to the next.The way ran uphill now; and the sun whic
h, since our last stop, had beenunder a cloud, came out and blistered my wife's cheeks, already burningred with fever. But I pressed my lips upon them, and led her on. Witheach rebuff I gave her a kiss; and her smile, as her head pressed harderand harder upon my arm, now exerting all its strength to support her,grew almost divine. But it vanished at my nephew Lemuel's.

  "'He was shearing sheep, and could give no time to company; and whenlate in the day I drew rein at Janet's, and she said she was going tohave a dance, and could not look after sick folk, the pallid lips failedto return my despairing embrace; and in the terror which this broughtme I went down in the gathering twilight into the deep valley whereWilliam raised his sheep, and reckoned day by day the increase among hispigs. Oh, the chill of that descent! Oh, the gloom of the gatheringshadows! As we neared the bottom, and I heard a far-off voice shout outa hoarse command, some instinct made me reach up for the last time andbestow that faithful kiss, which was at once her consolation and myprayer. My lips were cold with the terror of my soul, but they were notso cold as the cheek they touched, and, shrieking in my misery and need,I fell before William where he halted by the horse-trough and----He wasalways a hard man, was William, and it was a shock to him, no doubt, tosee us standing in our anguish and necessity before him; but he raisedthe whip in his hand, and when it fell my arm fell with it, and sheslipped from my grasp to the ground and lay in a heap in the roadway.

  "'He was ashamed next minute, and pointed to the house nearby. But I didnot carry her in, and she died in the roadway. Do you remember it, Luke?Do you remember it, Lemuel?

  "'But it is not of this that I complain at this hour, nor is it for thisI ask you to drink the toast I have prepared for you.'"

  The looks, the writhings of old Luke and such others as I could now seethrough the widening crack my hands unconsciously made in the doorway,told me that the rack was at work in this room so lately given up torevelry. Yet the mutterings, which from time to time came to my earsfrom one sullen lip or another, did not rise into frightened imprecationor even into any assertion of sorrow or contrition. It seemed as if somesuspense common to all held them speechless, if not dumbly apprehensive;and while the lawyer said nothing in recognition of this, he could nothave been quite blind to it, for he bestowed one curious glance aroundthe table before he proceeded with old Anthony's words.

  Those words had now become short, sharp, and accusatory.

  "'My child lived, and what remained to me of human passion and longingcentred in his frail existence. I managed to earn enough for his eatingand housing, and in time I was almost happy again. This was while ourexistence was a struggle; but when, with the discovery of latent powersin my own mind, I began to find my place in the world and to earn money,then your sudden interest in my boy taught me a new lesson in humanselfishness, but not as yet new fears. My nature was not one to graspideas of evil, and the remembrance of that oath still remained to makeme lenient toward you.

  "'I let him see you; not much, not often, but yet often enough for himto realise that he had uncles and cousins, or, if you like it better,kindred. And how did you repay this confidence on my part? What hand hadye in the removal of this small barrier to the fortune my own poorhealth warranted you in looking upon even in those early days as yourown? To others' eyes it may appear none; to mine, ye are one and allhis murderers as certainly as all of you were the murderers of the goodphysician hastening to his aid. For his illness was not a mortal one. Hewould have been saved if the doctor had reached him; but a precipiceswallowed that good Samaritan, and only I of all who looked upon thefootprints which harrowed up the road at this dangerous point knew whoseshoes would fit those marks. God's providence, it was called, and I letit pass for such; but it was a providence which cost me my boy and made_you_ my heirs.'"

  Silence, as sullen in character as the men who found themselves thusopenly impeached, had for some minutes now replaced the mutteredcomplaints which had accompanied the first portion of this denunciatoryletter. As the lawyer stopped to cast them another of those strangelooks, a gleam from old Luke's sidewise eyes startled the man next him,who, shrugging a shoulder, passed the underhanded look on, till it hadcircled the board and stopped with the man sitting opposite the crookedsinner who had started it.

  I began to have a wholesome dread of them all, and was astonished to seethe lawyer drop his hand from the bottle, which to some degree offereditself as a possible weapon. But he knew his audience better than I did.Though the bottle was now free for any man's taking, not a hand trembledtoward it, nor was a single glass held out.

  The lawyer, with an evil smile, went on with his relentless client'sstory.

  "'Ye had killed my wife; ye had killed my son; but this was not enough.Being lonesome in my great house, which was as much too large for me asmy fortune was, I had taken a child to replace the boy I had lost.Remembering the cold blood running in the veins of those nearest me, Ichose a boy from alien stock, and for a while knew contentment again.But as he developed and my affections strengthened, the possibility ofall my money going his way roused my brothers and sisters from thecomplacency they had enjoyed since their road to fortune had beensecured by my son's death, and one day--can you recall it, Hudson? Canyou recall it, Lemuel?--the boy was brought in from the mill, and laidat my feet dead! He had stumbled amongst the great belts, but whose wasthe voice which, with the loud "Halloo!" had startled him? Can you say,Luke? Can you say, John? I can say, in whose ear it was whispered thatthree, if not more of you were seen moving among the machinery thatfatal morning.

  "'Again God's providence was said to have visited my house; and again_ye_ were my heirs.'"

  "Stop there!" broke in the harsh voice of Luke, who was graduallygrowing livid under his long grey locks.

  "Lies! lies!" shrieked Hector, gathering courage from his brother.

  "Cut it all and give us the drink!" snarled one of the younger men, whowas less under the effect of liquor than the rest.

  But a trembling voice muttered "Hush!" and the lawyer, whose eye hadgrown steely under these comments, took advantage of the sudden silencewhich had followed this last objurgation, and went steadily on:

  "'Some men would have made a will and denounced you. I made a will, butdid not denounce you. _I_ am no breaker of oaths. More than this, Ilearned a new trick. I, who hated all subtlety, and looked upon craft asthe favourite weapon of the devil, learned to smile with my lips whilemy heart was burning with hatred. Perhaps this was why you all began tosmile, too, and joke me about certain losses I had sustained, by whichyou meant the gains which had come to me. That these gains were manytimes greater than you realised added to the sting of thisgood-fellowship, but I held my peace, and you began to have confidencein a good-nature which nothing could shake. You even gave me a supper.'"

  _A supper!_

  What was there in these words to cause every man there to stop inwhatever movement he was making, and stare with wide-open eyes intentlyat the reader? He had spoken quietly; he had not even looked up; but thesilence which for some minutes back had begun to reign over thattumultuous gathering now became breathless, and the seams in Hector'scheeks deepened to a bluish criss-cross.

  "'_You remember that supper?_'"

  As the word rang out again I threw wide the door. I might have stalkedopenly into their circle; not a man there would have noticed me.

  "'It was a memorable occasion,'" the lawyer read on, with stoicalimpassiveness. "'There was not a brother lacking. Luke, and Hudson, andWilliam, and Hector, and Eustace's boys, as well as Eustace himself;Janet too, and Salmon's Lemuel, and Barbara's son, who, even if hismother had gone the way of all flesh, had so trained her black brood inthe love of the things of this world that I scarcely missed her when Ilooked about among you all for the eight sturdy brothers and sisters whohad joined in one clasp and one oath under the eye of a true-heartedimmigrant, our father. What I did miss was one true eye lifted to myglance; but I did not show that I missed it. And so our peace was made,and we separated, you to wait for your inherit
ance, and I for the deathwhich was to secure it to you. For when the cup passed round that nightyou each dropped into it a tear of repentance, and tears make bitterdrinking. I sickened as I quaffed, and was never myself again, as youknow. Do you understand me, you cruel, crafty ones?'"

  Did they not! Heads quaking, throats gasping, teeth chattering--nolonger sitting--all risen, all looking with wild eyes for the door--wasit not apparent that they understood, and only waited for one more wordto break away and flee the accursed house?

  But that word lingered. Old Smead had now grown pale himself, and readwith difficulty the lines which were to end this frightful scene. As Isaw the red gleam of terror shine out from his small eyes, I wondered ifhe had been but the blind tool of his implacable client, and was asignorant as those before him of what was to follow this heavyarraignment. The dread with which he finally proceeded was too markedfor me to doubt the truth of this surmise. This is what he found himselfforced to read:

  "'There was a bottle reserved for me. It had a green label on it----'"

  A shriek from every one there and a hurried look up and down at thebottles standing on the table.

  "'A green label,'" the lawyer repeated, "'and it made a goodlyappearance as it was set down before me. But you had no liking for winewith a green label on the bottle. One by one you refused it, and when Irose to quaff my final glass alone, every eye before me fell and did notlift again until the glass was drained. I did not notice this then, butI see it all now, just as I hear again the excuses you gave for notfilling your glasses as the bottle went round. One had drunk enough; onesuffered from qualms brought on by an unaccustomed indulgence inoysters; one felt that wine good enough for me was too good for him, andso on, and so on. Not one to show frank eyes and drink with me as I wasready to drink with him! Why? Because one and all of you knew what wasin that cup, and would not risk an inheritance so nearly within yourgrasp.'"

  "Lies! lies!" again shrieked the raucous voice of Luke, smothered byterror; while oaths, shouts, imprecations, rang out in horrid tumultfrom one end of the table to the other, till the lawyer's face, overwhich a startling change was rapidly passing, drew the whole crowdforward again in awful fascination, till they clung, speechless, arm inarm, shoulder propping shoulder, while he gasped out in dismay equal totheir own these last fatal words:

  "'That was at your board, my brothers; now you are at mine. You haveeaten my viands, drunk of my cup; and now, through the mouth of the oneman who has been true to me because therein lies his advantage, I offeryou a final glass. Will you drink it? I drank yours. By that old-timeoath which binds us to share each other's fortune, I ask you to sharethis cup with me. _You will not?_'"

  "No, no, no!" shouted one after another.

  "'Then,'" the inexorable voice went on, a voice which to these miserablesouls was no longer that of the lawyer, but an issue from the grave theyhad themselves dug for Anthony Westonhaugh, "'know that your abstinencecomes too late; that you have already drunk the toast destined to endyour lives. The bottle which you must have missed from that board ofyours has been offered you again. A label is easily changed, and--Luke,John, Hector, I know you all so well--that bottle has been greedilyemptied by you; and while I, who sipped sparingly, lived three weeks,you, who have drunk deep, _have not three hours before you, possibly notthree minutes_.'"

  Oh, the wail of those lost souls as this last sentence issuedin a final pant of horror from the lawyer's quaking lips!Shrieks--howls--prayers for mercy--groans deep enough to make the hairrise--and curses, at sound of which I shut my ears in horror, only toopen them again in dread, as, with one simultaneous impulse, they flungthemselves upon the lawyer, who, foreseeing this rush, had backed upagainst the wall.

  He tried to stem the tide.

  "I knew nothing of the poisoning," he protested. "That was not my reasonfor declining to drink. I wished to preserve my senses--to carry out myclient's wishes. As God lives, I did not know he meant to carry hisrevenge so far. Mercy! mer----"

  But the hands which clutched him were the hands of murderers, and thelawyer's puny figure could not stand up against the avalanche of humanterror, relentless fury, and mad vengeance which now rolled in upon it.As I bounded to his relief he turned his ghastly face upon me. But theway between us was blocked, and I was preparing myself to see him sinkbefore my eyes when an unearthly shriek rose from behind us, and everyliving soul in that mass of struggling humanity paused, set and staring,with stiffened limbs and eyes fixed, not on him, not on me, but on oneof their own number--the only woman amongst them, Janet Clapsaddle--who,with clutching hands clawing her breast, was reeling in solitary agonyin her place beside the board. As they looked she fell, and lay withupturned face and staring eyes, in whose glassy depths the ill-fatedones who watched her could see mirrored their own impending doom.

  It was an awful moment. A groan, in which was concentrated the despairof seven miserable souls, rose from that petrified band; then, man byman, they separated and fell back, showing on each weak or wicked facethe particular passion which had driven them into crime and made themthe victims of this wholesale revenge. There had been some sort of bondbetween them till the vision of death rose before each shrinking soul.Shoulder to shoulder in crime, they fell apart as their doom approached,and rushing, shrieking, each man for himself, they one and all sought toescape by doors, windows, or any outlet which promised release from thisfatal spot. One rushed by me--I do not know which one--and I felt as ifa flame from hell had licked me, his breath was so hot and the moans heuttered so like the curses we imagine to blister the lips of the lost.None of them saw me; they did not even detect the sliding form of thelawyer crawling away before them to some place of egress of which theyhad no knowledge; and, convinced that in this scene of death I couldplay no part worthy of her who awaited me, I too rushed away, and,seeking my old path through the cellar, sought her side, where she stillcrouched in patient waiting against the dismal wall.

  IV

  THE FINAL SHOCK

  Her baby had fallen asleep. I knew this by the faint, low sweetness ofher croon; and, shuddering with the horrors I had witnessed--horrorswhich acquired a double force from the contrast presented by the peaceof this quiet spot and the hallowing influence of the sleeping infant--Ithrew myself down in the darkness at her feet, gasping out:

  "Oh, thank God and your uncle's seeming harshness that you have escapedthe doom which has overtaken those others! You and your babe are stillalive; while they----"

  "What of them? What has happened to them? You are breathless, trembling;you have brought no bread----"

  "No, no. Food in this house means death. Your relatives gave food andwine to your uncle at a supper; he, though now in his grave, hasreturned the same to them. There was a bottle----"

  I stopped, appalled. A shriek, muffled by distance but quivering withthe same note of death I had heard before, had gone up again from theother side of the wall against which we were leaning.

  "Oh!" she gasped, "and my father was at that supper! my father, who diedlast night cursing the day he was born! We are an accursed race! I haveknown it all my life. Perhaps that was why I mistook passion for love.And my baby--O God, have mercy! God, have mercy!"

  The plaintiveness of that cry, the awesomeness of what I had seen--ofwhat was going on at that moment almost within the reach of ourarms--the darkness, the desolation of our two souls, affected me as Ihad never been affected in my whole life before. In the concentratedexperience of the last two hours I seemed to have lived years under thiswoman's eyes; to know her as I did my own heart; to love her as I did myown soul. No growth of feeling ever brought the ecstasy of that moment'sinspiration. With no sense of doing anything strange, with no fear ofbeing misunderstood, I reached out my hand, and, touching hers where itlay clasped about her infant, I said:

  "We are two poor wayfarers. A rough road loses half its difficultieswhen trodden by two. Shall we, then, fare on together--you, I, and thelittle child?"

  She gave a sob; there was sorrow, longing, gri
ef, hope in its thrilling,low sound. As I recognised the latter emotion I drew her to my breast.The child did not separate us.

  "We shall be happy," I murmured, and her sigh seemed to answer adelicious "Yes," when suddenly there came a shock to the partitionagainst which we leaned, and, starting from my clasp, she cried:

  "Our duty is in there. Shall we think of ourselves, or even of eachother, while these men, all relatives of mine, are dying on the otherside of this wall?"

  Seizing my hand, she dragged me to the trap; but here I took the leadand helped her down the ladder. When I had her safely on the floor atthe foot she passed in front of me again; but once up the steps and infront of the kitchen door I thrust her behind me, for one glance intothe room beyond had convinced me it was no place for her.

  But she would not be held back. She crowded forward beside me, andtogether we looked upon the wreck within. It was a never-to-be-forgottenscene. The demon that was in those men had driven them to demolishfurniture, dishes, everything. In one heap lay what, an hour before, hadbeen an inviting board surrounded by rollicking and greedy guests. Butit was not upon this overthrow we stopped to look. It was upon somethingthat mingled with it, dominated it, and made of this chaos only asetting to awful death. Janet's face, in all its natural hideousness anddepravity, looked up from the floor beside this heap; and farther on,lay the twisted figure of him they called Hector, with something morethan the seams of greedy longing round his wide-staring eyes and icytemples. Two in this room! and on the threshold of the one beyond amoaning third, who sank into eternal silence as we approached; andbefore the fireplace in the great room a horrible crescent that had oncebeen aged Luke, upon whom we had no sooner turned our backs than wecaught glimpses here and there of other prostrate forms which movedonce under our eyes and then moved no more.

  One only still stood upright, and he was the man whose obtrusive figureand sordid expression had so revolted me in the beginning. There was nocolour now in his flabby and heavily fallen cheeks. The eyes, in whosefalse sheen I had seen so much of evil, were glazed now, and his big andburly frame shook the door it pressed against. He was staring at a smallslip of paper he held, and, from his anxious looks, appeared to misssomething which neither of us had power to supply. It was a spectacle tomake devils rejoice and mortals fly aghast. But Eunice had a spirit likean angel, and, drawing near him, she said:

  "Is there anything I can do for you, Cousin John?"

  He started, looked at her with the same blank gaze he had hitherto castat the wall, then some words formed on his working lips, and we heard:

  "I cannot reckon; I was never good at figures. But if Luke is gone, andWilliam, and Hector, and Barbara's boy, and Janet, _how much does thatleave for me_?"

  He was answered almost the moment he spoke, but it was by other tongues,and in another world than this. As his body fell forward I tore open thedoor before which he had been standing, and, lifting the almost faintingEunice in my arms, I carried her out into the night. As I did so Icaught a final glimpse of the pictured face I had found it so hard tounderstand a couple of hours before. I understood it now.

  A surprise awaited us as we turned toward the gate. The mist had lifted,and a keen but not unpleasant wind was driving from the north. Borne onit we heard voices. The village had emptied itself, probably at thealarm given by the lawyer, and it was these good men and women whoseapproach we heard. As we had nothing to fear from them we went forwardto meet them. As we did so three crouching figures rose from some busheswe passed and ran scurrying before us through the gateway. They were thelate-comers who had shown such despair at being shut out from this fatalhouse, and who probably were not yet acquainted with the doom they hadescaped.

  * * * * *

  There were lanterns in the hands of some of the men who now approached.As we stopped before them these lanterns were held up, and by the lightthey gave we saw, first, the lawyer's frightened face, then the visagesof two men who seemed to be persons of some authority.

  "What news?" faltered the lawyer, seeing by our faces that we knew theworst.

  "Bad," I returned; "the poison had lost none of its virulence by beingmixed so long with the wine."

  "How many?" asked the man on his right anxiously.

  "Eight," was my solemn reply.

  "There were but eight," faltered the lawyer; "that means, then, all?"

  "All," I repeated.

  A murmur of horror rose, swelled, then died out in tumult as the crowdswept on past us.

  For a moment we stood watching these people; saw them pause before thedoor we had left open behind us, then rush in, leaving a wail of terroron the shuddering midnight air. When all was quiet again, Eunice laidher hand upon my arm.

  "Where shall we go?" she asked despairingly. "I do not know of a housethat will open to me."

  The answer to her question came from other lips than mine.

  "I do not know one that will _not_," spoke up a voice behind our backs."Your withdrawal from the circle of heirs did not take from you yourrightful claim to an inheritance which, according to your uncle's will,could be forfeited only by a failure to arrive at the place ofdistribution within the hour set by the testator. As I see the matternow, this appeal to the honesty of the persons so collected was a testby which my unhappy client strove to save from the general fate suchmembers of his miserable family as fully recognised their sin and weretruly repentant."

  It was Lawyer Smead. He had lingered behind the others to tell her this.She was, then, no outcast, but rich, very rich; how rich I dared notacknowledge to myself, lest a remembrance of the man who was the last toperish in that house of death should return to make this calculationhateful. It was a blow which struck deep--deeper than any either of ushad sustained that night. As we came to realise it, I stepped slowlyback, leaving her standing erect and tall in the middle of the roadway,with her baby in her arms. But not for long; soon she was close at myside murmuring softly:

  "Two wayfarers still! Only, the road will be more difficult and the needof companionship greater. Shall we fare on together, you, I--and thelittle child?"

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