XI. THE SUMMONS
“The pink of courtesy.” Romeo and Juliet.
THE morning papers contained a more detailed account of the murder thanthose of the evening before; but, to my great relief, in none of themwas Eleanore’s name mentioned in the connection I most dreaded.
The final paragraph in the _Times_ ran thus: “The detectives are uponthe track of the missing girl, Hannah.” And in the _Herald_ I read thefollowing notice:
“_A Liberal Reward_ will be given by the relatives of HoratioLeavenworth, Esq., deceased, for any news of the whereabouts of oneHannah Chester, disappeared from the house -------- Fifth Avenue sincethe evening of March 4. Said girl was of Irish extraction; in age abouttwenty-five, and may be known by the following characteristics. Formtall and slender; hair dark brown with a tinge of red; complexion fresh;features delicate and well made; hands small, but with the fingers muchpricked by the use of the needle; feet large, and of a coarser type thanthe hands. She had on when last seen a checked gingham dress, brownand white, and was supposed to have wrapped herself in a red and greenblanket shawl, very old. Beside the above distinctive marks, she hadupon her right hand wrist the scar of a large burn; also a pit or two ofsmallpox upon the left temple.”
This paragraph turned my thoughts in a new direction. Oddly enough, Ihad expended very little thought upon this girl; and yet how apparentit was that she was the one person upon whose testimony, if given,the whole case in reality hinged, I could not agree with those whoconsidered her as personally implicated in the murder. An accomplice,conscious of what was before her, would have hid in her pockets whatevermoney she possessed. But the roll of bills found in Hannah’s trunkproved her _to_ have left too hurriedly for this precaution. On theother hand, if this girl had come unexpectedly upon the assassin at hiswork, how could she have been hustled from the house without creatinga disturbance loud enough to have been heard by the ladies, one ofwhom had her door open? An innocent girl’s first impulse upon such anoccasion would have been to scream; and yet no scream was heard; shesimply disappeared. What were we to think then? That the person seenby her was one both known and trusted? I would not consider such apossibility; so laying down the paper, I endeavored to put away allfurther consideration of the affair till I had acquired more factsupon which to base the theory. But who can control his thoughts whenover-excited upon any one theme? All the morning I found myself turningthe case over in my mind, arriving ever at one of two conclusions.Hannah Chester must be found, or Eleanore Leavenworth must explain whenand by what means the key of the library door came into her possession.
At two o’clock I started from my office to attend the inquest; but,being delayed on the way, missed arriving at the house until after thedelivery of the verdict. This was a disappointment to me, especially asby these means I lost the opportunity of seeing Eleanore Leavenworth,she having retired to her room immediately upon the dismissal of thejury. But Mr. Harwell was visible, and from him I heard what the verdicthad been.
“Death by means of a pistol shot from the hand of some person unknown.”
The result of the inquest was a great relief to me. I had feared worse.Nor could I help seeing that, for all his studied self-command, thepale-faced secretary shared in my satisfaction.
What was less of a relief to me was the fact, soon communicated, thatMr. Gryce and his subordinates had left the premises immediately uponthe delivery of the verdict. Mr. Gryce was not the man to forsake anaffair like this while anything of importance connected with it remainedunexplained. Could it be he meditated any decisive action? Somewhatalarmed, I was about to hurry from the house for the purpose of learningwhat his intentions were, when a sudden movement in the front lowerwindow of the house on the opposite side of the way arrested myattention, and, looking closer, I detected the face of Mr. Fobbs peeringout from behind the curtain. The sight assured me I was not wrong in myestimate of Mr. Gryce; and, struck with pity for the desolate girl leftto meet the exigencies of a fate to which this watch upon her movementswas but the evident precursor, I stepped back and sent her a note, inwhich, as Mr. Veeley’s representative, I proffered my services in caseof any sudden emergency, saying I was always to be found in my roomsbetween the hours of six and eight. This done, I proceeded to the housein Thirty-seventh Street where I had left Miss Mary Leavenworth the daybefore.
Ushered into the long and narrow drawing-room which of late yearshas been so fashionable in our uptown houses, I found myself almostimmediately in the presence of Miss Leavenworth.
“Oh,” she cried, with an eloquent gesture of welcome, “I had begun tothink I was forsaken!” and advancing impulsively, she held out her hand.“What is the news from home?”
“A verdict of murder, Miss Leavenworth.”
Her eyes did not lose their question.
“Perpetrated by party or parties unknown.”
A look of relief broke softly across her features.
“And they are all gone?” she exclaimed.
“I found no one in the house who did not belong there.”
“Oh! then we can breathe easily again.”
I glanced hastily up and down the room.
“There is no one here,” said she.
And still I hesitated. At length, in an awkward way enough, I turnedtowards her and said:
“I do not wish either to offend or alarm you, but I must say that Iconsider it your duty to return to your own home to-night.”
“Why?” she stammered. “Is there any particular reason for my doing so?Have you not perceived the impossibility of my remaining in the samehouse with Eleanore?”
“Miss Leavenworth, I cannot recognize any so-called impossibility ofthis nature. Eleanore is your cousin; has been brought up to regard youas a sister; it is not worthy of you to desert her at the time of hernecessity. You will see this as I do, if you will allow yourself amoment’s dispassionate thought.”
“Dispassionate thought is hardly possible under the circumstances,” shereturned, with a smile of bitter irony.
But before I could reply to this, she softened, and asked if I was veryanxious to have her return; and when I replied, “More than I can say,” she trembled and looked for a moment as if she were half inclined toyield; but suddenly broke into tears, crying it was impossible, and thatI was cruel to ask it.
I drew back, baffled and sore. “Pardon me,” said I, “I have indeedtransgressed the bounds allotted to me. I will not do so again; you havedoubtless many friends; let some of them advise you.”
She turned upon me all fire. “The friends you speak of are flatterers.You alone have the courage to command me to do what is right.”
“Excuse me, I do not command; I only entreat.”
She made no reply, but began pacing the room, her eyes fixed, her handsworking convulsively. “You little know what you ask,” said she. “I feelas though the very atmosphere of that house would destroy me; but--whycannot Eleanore come here?” she impulsively inquired. “I know Mrs.Gilbert will be quite willing, and I could keep my room, and we need notmeet.”
“You forget that there is another call at home, besides the one I havealready mentioned. To-morrow afternoon your uncle is to be buried.”
“O yes; poor, poor uncle!”
“You are the head of the household,” I now ventured, “and the properone to attend to the final offices towards one who has done so much foryou.”
There was something strange in the look which she gave me. “It is true,” she assented. Then, with a grand turn of her body, and a quick air ofdetermination: “I am desirous of being worthy of your good opinion. Iwill go back to my cousin, Mr. Raymond.”
I felt my spirits rise a little; I took her by the hand. “May thatcousin have no need of the comfort which I am now sure you will be readyto give her.”
Her hand dropped from mine. “I mean to do my duty,” was her coldresponse.
As I descended the stoop, I met a certain thin and fashionably dressedyoung man, who gave me a very sharp loo
k as he passed. As he wore hisclothes a little too conspicuously for the perfect gentleman, and as Ihad some remembrance of having seen him at the inquest, I set him downfor a man in Mr. Gryce’s employ, and hasted on towards the avenue; whenwhat was my surprise to find on the corner another person, who,while pretending to be on the look out for a car, cast upon me, as Iapproached, a furtive glance of intense inquiry. As this latter was,without question, a gentleman, I felt some annoyance, and, walkingquietly up to him, asked if he found my countenance familiar, that hescrutinized it so closely.
“I find it a very agreeable one,” was his unexpected reply, as he turnedfrom me and walked down the avenue.
Nettled, and in no small degree mortified, at the disadvantage in whichhis courtesy had placed me, I stood watching him as he disappeared,asking myself who and what he was. For he was not only a gentleman, buta marked one; possessing features of unusual symmetry as well as a formof peculiar elegance. Not so very young--he might well be forty--therewere yet evident on his face the impress of youth’s strongest emotions,not a curve of his chin nor a glance of his eye betraying in any way theslightest leaning towards _ennui,_ though face and figure were of thattype which seems most to invite and cherish it.
“He can have no connection with the police force,” thought I; “nor is itby any means certain that he knows me, or is interested in my affairs;but I shall not soon forget him, for all that.”
The summons from Eleanore Leavenworth came about eight o’clock in theevening. It was brought by Thomas, and read as follows:
“Come, Oh, come! I--” there breaking off in a tremble, as if the pen hadfallen from a nerveless hand.
It did not take me long to find my way to her home.
The Leavenworth Case Page 11