CHAPTER XII.
"FERRISS-GRANT."
On the fourth day after Charles Brierly's untimely death, his body wastaken to the city and laid beside his parents in the beautiful cemeterywhere love and grief had already prepared for him and his, a place offinal rest.
News of the burial had been sent ahead, and a crowd of friends hadassembled at the home of their father's oldest friend and family lawyer,where the body was received as that of a son, and the last rites ofaffection and respect were performed by the venerable rector who hadseen the brothers grow from boys to men.
Doctor Barnes and Hilda Grant, with Mrs. Marcy as chaperone, accompaniedthe sad-hearted brother upon this journey, and they were somewhatsurprised when Ferrars, whom they had thought must go with them in hischaracter of sole relative to the young lady, explained that hispresence in Glenville just then was essential to the success of the workhe had been called there to do.
"There are so many little things which I want to learn," he said. "Infact, I must know Glenville much better before I can go far in mysearch, and during your absence I can find the time for making many newacquaintances, and I mean to begin by cultivating your friend Doran,doctor."
They were gone three days, and when they returned they were but a partyof three. "Poor Charlie Brierly," as his friends in the city had alreadybegun to call the dead, lay in his last, quiet earthly home, and Roberthad remained in the city.
"To settle up his brother's affairs, and put the matter of his deathinto the hands of the detectives." At least this is what Mr. Doraninformed one of the loungers who, seeing the return of the doctor andthe two ladies, had remarked upon Brierly's absence.
"Of course he'll have to come back here," Doran had further added. "Heain't touched the things in his brother's rooms yet, they say. Butthey'll wait better than the other business."
"Umph!" the villager sniffed. "He's let three days slip by withoutmakin' much of a stir. Why on earth ain't they had one o' them fellersdown here long before this? They ain't seemed to hurry much."
"Well, you see, at first 'twas more than half believed that the shootingmust have been by accident; and then, this is just between you and me,Jones; didn't you ever think that even after that jury's verdict, andthe doctor's testimony, they, Doc. and the brother, might have wanted tomake sure, by a sort of private and more thorough investigation of thewound, eh?"
"By crackey! Now that you speak of it, I heard Mason say't they was upan' movin' round at the doctor's that livelong night! Yes, sir, I reckonyou've hit it!"
"My!" mused Samuel Doran as he moved away from the gossip. "They bite atmy yarns like babies on a teethin' ring. Doc. knows his fellow critters,sure enough, and my work's laid out for me, I guess."
For Doran, after due consultation, and upon the doctor's voucher, hadbeen taken a little way into the confidence of the three men, andFerrars began to foresee in him a reliable helper.
The above brief conversation took place between Doran and Mr. Jones,professional depot-lounger and occasional worker at odd jobs, while thedoctor was putting Hilda and Mrs. Marcy into a waiting carriage, andwhen he had seen it drive away up town, Doran came forward andaddressed him in a tone quite audible to the bystanders.
"You see, I didn't forget the carriage, Doc. Hope Miss Grant ain't nonethe worse for her sad sort of journey." And then as the two walked awayfrom the platform together, and he saw the doctor's eyes glancing fromside to side, Doran went on. "Looking for Mr. Grant, Doc.? Well, I guessyou won't see him; not before supper-time, anyhow. Fact is, I guess he'ssort of fancy struck on that pretty-faced widow down at the GlenvilleHouse, and he's taken her out behind my greys this afternoon. I don'tknow as I blame him any; she is a dainty little wid."
The doctor stared at him in amazement at his first words, and then brokeinto a hearty laugh over the last.
"Upon my word, Doran, you will be able to write a new dictionary ofabbreviations some day! Doran's Original! A dainty wid. is very good inits way; only, is she a 'wid.'?"
"That's what they say at the Glenville. Widow and rich."
At the next corner Doran halted. "Have to tear myself away," he said,amiably. "See you later," and the two men separated.
"Well, old man, how have you fared during the lull in your business?"asked Doctor Barnes, as his man came to meet him. "You don't lookoverworked."
"I ain't been, neither, sah. Your Mr. Grant or Ferrars, I ain't rightlygot his name, I guess, sir, he 'pears ter like the cooks down to theGlenville better than me. I ain't had no bother with him since you left,sir, 'cept to make up his bed."
"I know. He has found some friends there, I fancy, Jude. Any news ormessages?" and the doctor became at once absorbed in his neglectedbusiness.
Ferrars made his appearance at "supper time" as Doran had described theevening meal, and the two men had much to discuss. When Jude had placedthe last dishes and retired, the detective, who thus far had beenlistening to the doctor's account of the journey and the sad funeralobsequies, looked up and said: "I suppose you have heard of mywanderings, doctor, and how I have forsaken poor Jude? The fact is, Ihave found plenty of leisure, and Mrs. Jamieson, when one comes to knowher a little, is a very ab--interesting woman. The sort of woman, infact, whose society I now and then enjoy. I have not neglected my duty,however, but there is absolutely nothing new. And, by the bye, I mustsee Miss Grant this evening; after that, if you are at liberty, we musthave a talk. I have decided upon a change of plan, of which you mustknow."
He had left a note for Miss Grant, which advised her of his intendedcall as soon as she should have become rested and refreshed. He was gladto find her so strong and so composed, and he came at once to thebusiness in hand.
"Miss Grant," he began, "as I said in my note, I have something topropose to you which has presented itself to me as the best courseduring your absence; and, to begin, let me ask, have you still fullconfidence in me as a detective, and as a man whom you may trust?"
She lifted her fine clear eyes to his face and kept them there while shereplied.
"I felt that I could trust you, Mr. Ferrars, when we first met. Therehas been no change in that feeling unless it may be the change to alarger measure of trust and confidence."
"Thank you." And now the cool detective flushed like a schoolboy. "Ishall try hard to deserve your good opinion, and it encourages me tobroach my singular proposal. I believe it will enable me to get oneasier and with more rapidity if you will permit me to continue for anindefinite time in the role which I did not at first choose for myself,and I ask you if I may still remain, in the eyes of Glenville, as now,in the character of your cousin."
"To remain--in Glenville?"
"When Doctor Barnes sent for me, advising me that I might arrive in thecharacter of your cousin, it was, of course, with the idea that thismasquerade would be a brief one, and it was undertaken because thedoctor knew how it would hamper if not really balk, my attempts tounravel this mystery if I were known as a detective. I cannot explainnow, but I ask you to believe that, being here, I am now convinced thatin laying aside this character I should put out of my hands my bestweapon, the most direct means of following up and ferreting out a crimewhich I fully believe will prove to have been--that is, if we succeed infinding out the truth--a crime with a far-reaching plot behind it, andthe cause of which most of us have not even remotely dreamed of."
"You have said enough. All is in your hands. Be what you will and must,the better to prove to the world that Charles Brierly, my husband in thesight of heaven, died as he lived, an upright gentleman and martyr, andnot the suicide or the victim of a righteous vengeance that most peoplewould for ever declare him if the truth is not made known."
"Understand," he urged, "that if you consent to this, you, as well asmyself, will have a part to play, and an active part, perhaps, in thedrama we are about to begin. Remember, you will have to keep up thedeception for weeks, possibly months; and to go and come at my desire."
"Do you mean," she asked, breathlessly, "that you ma
y need my help?"
"I do need your help!"
"Oh!" she cried, letting go her splendid self-restraint for the moment."You don't know what you are doing for me! To be active, to dosomething, instead of sitting still and eating my heart out in suspense.It will save me from madness perhaps. What could a true relative do forme more than you are doing and will do. You are my cousin!" And she putout her two hands to him with a new look of energy and resolve in herface. As he took the two slim hands in both his own and looked in hereyes, suddenly so aroused and purposeful, he saw for the first time, thefull strength and force of will and nature behind that fair face andgentle bearing, the high spirit and courage animating the slender frame.
"Thank you," he said, simply, as he released her hands. "I feel that Ican indeed rely upon you at need. You have the strength; can you havethe patience as well? At present I can tell you very little. You willhave to take much upon trust."
"I have anticipated that."
"For example, it is my inflexible rule never to reveal the name of asuspected person until I have at least partial proof of guilt, enough towarrant an arrest. But you have a right to such confidence as I cangive, and so, if you have a question to ask, and I think you have, letme answer it if I can."
"Oh, I thank you." She came a step nearer. "I ask myself one question,over and over; that there was no guilty secret in my poor boy's life anddeath, I know. Where, then, can be the motive?"
"The motive, ah! When we know that, we shall be at the beginning of theend of the matter. Sit down, Miss Grant, and I will put the case beforeyou as I now see it."
She sank into the nearest seat without a word.
"As to the manner of the murder," he went on, "this is my conclusion.Some one, an enemy who hated or feared him, has informed himself of Mr.Charles Brierly's habits, and made himself familiar with the woods alongthe lake shore. Your friend, I learn, has practised target-shooting forsome time. Have you ever thought that he might have had a reason for sodoing?"
"Good heavens! No!"
"Well, that is only a suggestion. But this much is certain, the deed waspremeditated, and carefully planned. I have satisfied myself that theassassin, approaching from the south, made almost the circuit of thatlong mound, after making sure that no one was near, in order to reachthe point, scarcely twelve feet from the place where the body was found,from which to fire the fatal shot."
"My God!"
"It was a bold venture, but not so dangerous as might at first appear. Ifind that from a point half way to the top of the mound one might bequite concealed from any one down by the lake shore while taking a longlook up and down the road. And, in case of approach, there is at thesouth end of the mound a clump of bushes and young trees, where onecould easily remain concealed while awaiting the victim or the passingof an interloper. From the town to a point not far south of the knoll ormound, as your people call it, the ground between the road and lake hasbeen partially cleared of undergrowth for the comfort of picnickers andfishing parties, I am told."
"Yes." She sighed wonderingly. "But beyond that, a person wishing to beunseen from the lake or road could easily hide among the brush andtrees. I believe all this was carefully studied and carried out, andthat, five minutes after the shots were fired, the slayer was on his waysouthward to some point where a confederate waited, with some means ofconveying themselves to a safe distance."
"Ah!" she whispered. "The boat?"
"Yes, the boat. It was a part of the plot, and rowed to that point bythe confederate, I believe, for the purpose of misleading justice.Doran, who is an able helper, learned this morning that a farm hand, whowas driving his stock across the road to drink at the lake, saw a man ina boat rowing up towards Glenville at half-past seven that morning."
"Oh! And can you follow them? Is the trail strong enough?"
"I think so. And there are other clues. There is much to be done here inGlenville first of all. At the inquest the testimony was purposely leftvague and uncertain at some points."
"And why?"
"Because, somewhere, not far away, there is a person who is watchingdevelopments, and who may leave some track unsevered if he can be madeto think we are off the scent. I mean to know my Glenville very wellbefore I leave it, and some of its people too. And here you can help meas soon as you are strong enough."
"I am strong enough now. What more can I do?"
"You remember the foolish boy and his fright when questioned?"
"Of course."
"Well, as his teacher, can you not win his confidence until his fear isovercome? That boy has not told all he knows."
"He is very dull, I fear. He said he saw a ghost."
"Well, we must know the nature of that ghost, and why it has closed hislips so effectually. Seriously I hope much from that lad."
"Then be sure I will do my best."
"You see, I am taking you at your word. And there's one more thing. Ihave been told that strangers go oftenest to the Glenville when in town.Now it behoves me to know the latest comers, and the newcomers there,and chance having given me opportunity to break the ice by being politeto Mrs. Jamieson, I have improved the moments. I don't mean that I amstudying the lady for any sinister purpose, but one can see that she isquite a social leader in the house, and through her I have already cometo know several of the other inmates. Mrs. Jamieson very much desires toknow you, and if you will allow her to call, as under the circumstancesshe desires to do, and if you will return that call--in short, putyourself upon the footing of an acquaintance--it will really help megreatly."
For a long moment Hilda did not speak, then "I will do as you wish, ofcourse," she said, but the note of eager readiness had gone out of hervoice. "But I cannot even think of that woman without living over againour first meeting and the awful blow her news dealt me. Will I everoutlive the hurt of it?"
"It hurt her, too; I am sure of that. She is a keenly sensitive woman.She went from your schoolroom really ill, so her friend has told me."
"I can well believe that. She looked ill when she came to me. And whocan wonder?" her tone softening. "Mrs. Jamieson is certainly kind, andwhy should we not be friends? She is a lady, refined and charming. Don'tthink me unreasonable, Mr. Ferrars. I shall be pleased to receive her,of course."
"Thank you. And remember, that for the present Francis Ferrars becomesFerriss, Ferriss-Grant. You'll not forget your part!"
"I will not forget," she answered. And when he was gone she smiled a sadlittle womanly smile. "After all, a detective is but a man, and thatpetite, soft-spoken, dainty blonde woman is just the sort to fascinate abig-hearted, strong man like Francis Ferrars."
The Last Stroke: A Detective Story Page 12