CHAPTER XII
X-RAYS
On the morning following Scott's interview with Hobson, he awoke atan early hour, vaguely conscious of some disturbing influence,though unable to tell what had awakened him. He lay for a momentrecalling the events of the preceding day, then suddenly rememberedthat this was the day fixed for the funeral of Hugh Mainwaring.None of the servants were astir about the house, but Scott soonbecame conscious of the sound of stealthy movements and subduedvoices coming through the open window, and, rising, he looked out.At first he could see nothing unusual. It was just sunrise, and theriver, at a little distance shimmering in the golden light, heldhim entranced by its beauty. Then a slight rustling in theshrubbery near the lake attracted his attention. The golden shaftsof sunlight had not yet reached that small body of water, and itlay smooth and unbroken as the surface of a mirror, so clear atthat hour that one could easily look into its depths. Suddenly alight boat shot out from the side nearest the grove, breaking thesmooth surface into a thousand rippling waves of light. In the boatwere two men, one of whom Scott instantly recognized as thedetective; the other, who was rowing and had his back towards thehouse, seemed to be a stranger. Some one concealed in the shrubberycalled to the boatmen, whereupon they rowed across in that direction,stopping a few yards from shore. Here they rested a few momentstill the surface was again smooth, when, both men having carefullypeered into the depths of the little lake, the detective proceededto let down a drag into the water.
"By George!" Scott ejaculated, "the sly old fox is improving theopportunity, while every one is asleep, to drag the lake in searchof whatever the coachman threw in there. All right, my dear sir,go ahead! But I'm somewhat interested in this affair myself, andI don't intend that you shall monopolize all the facts in the case."
Keeping an eye on the boat, he dressed quickly and, letting himselfout at the front entrance, he hastened down the walk through thegrove to the edge of the lake, keeping himself concealed among thetrees. The boat was moving slowly back and forth, and was now insuch a position that Scott could see the face of the man rowing,who proved to be, as he had thought, a stranger. On the other side,seated under the flowering shrubs and trees bordering the lake, wasJoe, the stable-boy, watching proceedings with intense interest.With a smile, the young secretary followed his example, seatinghimself at the foot of an ancient elm whose branches drooped nearlyto the ground.
"All right, Mr. Detective!" he said, "I can stay as long as you.If you fail to make a success of your work this morning no one willbe the wiser, but in case you find anything I propose to knowsomething about it myself."
The sun was now shining brightly, but the hour was yet so early thatthere was little danger of any one else appearing on the scene,especially as it was Sunday morning.
For nearly an hour Mr. Merrick and his companion rowed slowly backand forth in constantly widening circles, meeting with no successand saying little. Suddenly, while Scott was watching the face ofthe stranger, wondering who he might be, he heard a low exclamationand saw that the drag had fastened itself upon some object at thebottom of the lake. He watched eagerly as they drew it to thesurface, and could scarcely restrain a cry of astonishment as hesaw what it was, but before either of the men could secure it, ithad slipped and fallen again into the water. With language moreforcible than elegant, the drag was again lowered, and the boatonce more began its slow trailing.
This time they had not so long to wait for success. The drag wasbrought to the surface, but carrying in its clutches an entirelydifferent object, and one with which the young secretary was totallyunfamiliar,--a somewhat rusty revolver.
Mr. Merrick's back was now towards Scott, but the latter saw himtake something from his pocket which he seemed to compare with therevolver, at the same time remarking to the stranger, who waswatching with an appearance of great interest,
"A pretty good find, Jim, pretty good! However, we'll have anothertry for that box, whatever it is. It may amount to something or itmay not, but it will do no harm to make a trial."
Having let down the drag once more, he glanced at the house, then athis watch, saying, "No signs of any one astir; we're all right foranother hour yet."
After a few more turns, Scott saw them suddenly pulling in theropes, and once more the box appeared, rusty and covered with slime,but still familiar. He at once sprang to his feet and saunteredcarelessly down the walk, humming a tune and watching the occupantsof the boat with an air of mild curiosity. The stranger was thefirst to see him, and with an expression of evident disgust gaveMerrick warning of his approach. If the detective felt anyannoyance he did not betray it as he turned and nodded to Scott inthe most nonchalant manner possible, as though dragging the lakewere an every-day occurrence.
"You've been fishing, I see," said Scott, pleasantly. "How did youmake out?"
"Well, I've made this find which you see here," answered Mr. Merrick,as the boat headed for shore. "I don't know yet what it is, but ithas not lain long in the water, and it may be worth looking into."
Scott made no reply until the detective had sprung ashore; then, asthe latter proceeded to examine the box, leaving his companion totake care of the boat and drag, he said, in a low tone,--
"That is likely to prove an important discovery, Mr. Merrick."
"You are familiar with it then?" queried the latter.
"I have seen it in Mr. Mainwaring's safe. That was the box in whichhe kept the old jewels that were stolen on the night of the murder."
Mr. Merrick whistled softly and studied the box anew. "Well, thereare no jewels in it now, but we will open it. There is no one upyet to let us into the house, so suppose we go to the stables; we'llbe safe there from intrusion."
They proceeded to the stables, and, arriving there, Scott was puzzledto see Merrick's companion at work and evidently perfectly at home.
"We are going to use your room a while, Matthews," said Merrick,carelessly. Then, noting the surprise on Scott's face, he added,"This is Matthews, the new coachman, Mr. Scott. I thought you knewof his coming."
"At your service, sir," said Matthews, respectfully lifting his capin response to Scott's greeting, while the latter inquired, as heand the detective passed up-stairs together,--
"When did he come?"
"Yesterday afternoon. He applied for the position, and, as hehappened to be an acquaintance of mine, Mr. Mainwaring hired himupon my recommendation. Now," as he locked the door of the roomthey had entered, "we will open this box as quickly as possible.I suppose there is no key to be found, and, if there were, thelock is too rusty to work."
With the aid of a file and chisel the box was soon opened. Thesatin linings were somewhat water-soaked and discolored, and thebox appeared to be empty, but on opening an inner compartment therewere exposed to view a pair of oddly shaped keys and a blood-stainedhandkerchief, the latter firmly knotted as though it had been usedto bandage a wound of some kind.
"Ah!" said the detective, with peculiar emphasis, examining thehandkerchief, which was of fine linen, with the initials "H. M."embroidered in one corner. "Did Mr. Mainwaring carry a handkerchiefof that style?"
"Yes; he carried that, or one precisely like it, the last day ofhis life."
"Very good!" was the only reply, as the detective carefully foldedand pocketed the article with an air that indicated that he wishedto say no more about it. "And these keys, do you recognize them?"
"They were Mr. Mainwaring's private keys to his library and thesouthern hall."
"The ones the valet said were missing?"
"The same."
Mr. Merrick, after studying them curiously for a moment, consignedthem to his pocket also, and then began a careful inspection of theinterior of the box. Scott watched him in silence, thinkingmeanwhile of the old document which he had found hidden away in itsdepths, and inwardly rejoicing that it had not been left to bediscovered by the detective. Nothing in Mr. Merrick's manner orexpression betrayed the nature of his thoughts, and, so long as
hechose to remain silent, Scott refrained from questioning him.
At length he closed the box, saying, indifferently, "Well, I don'tknow as there is any reason why I should detain you any longer, Mr.Scott. We have satisfied ourselves as to the contents of the box,and you have identified the articles. For the present, however, Iwould prefer that you say nothing of this."
"Certainly, Mr. Merrick. The discovery, whatever its import, isyour secret, and I shall make no mention of it whatever."
"I don't know that it is of any special importance," said thedetective, carelessly, as they prepared to descend the stairs; "butit only confirms the opinion that I have had all along."
"Don't you think that this tends to show that the murder and robberywere connected, notwithstanding Mr. Whitney's theories to thecontrary?" Scott inquired, as they were about to separate.
"Possibly," replied the other, gravely. Then added, with a smile,"Mr. Whitney has his own preconceived ideas of the case and triesto adapt the circumstances to suit them, when, in reality, one mustfirst ascertain whatever facts are available and adjust his theoriesaccordingly."
They parted company at the door of the stables, but Scott had notreached the house when the detective, with a peculiar smile,returned to the room up-stairs, and once more opening the box, drewforth from underneath the satin linings a folded paper, yellow withage and covered with closely written lines; which he read with greatinterest, after which he remained absorbed in thought until arousedby the entrance of his friend, the coachman.
Several hours later Scott stood alone beside the casket of themurdered man. The head had been turned slightly to one side and aspray of white blossoms, dropped with seeming carelessness withinthe casket, concealed all traces of the ghastly wound, their snowypetals scarcely whiter than the marble features of the dead.
It lacked more than an hour of the time set for the funeral. Noneof the few invited friends would arrive for some time yet. Thegentlemen of the house were still in the hands of their valets, andthe ladies engrossed with the details of their elegant mourningcostumes. Scott, knowing he would be secure from interruption, hadchosen this opportunity to take his farewell look at the face of hisemployer, desiring to be alone with his own thoughts beside the dead.
With strangely commingled emotions he gazed upon the face, sofamiliar, and yet upon which the death angel had already traced manyunfamiliar lines, and as he realized the utter loneliness of therich man, both in life and in death, a wave of intense pity sweptacross heart and brain, well-nigh obliterating all sense of personalwrong and injury.
"Unhappy man!" he murmured. "Unloved in life, unmourned in death!Not one of those whom you sought to enrich will look upon you to-daywith one-half the sorrow or the pity with which I do, whom you havewronged and defrauded from the day of my birth! But I forgive youthe wrong you have done me. It was slight compared with the fargreater wrong you did another,--your brother--your only brother!A wrong which no sums of money, however vast, could ever repair.What would I not give if I could once have stood by his side, evenas I stand by yours to-day, and looked once upon his face,--theface of your brother and of the father whom, because of your guilt,I have never seen or known, of whom I have not even a memory!Living, I could never have forgiven you; but here, to-day, in pityfor your loveless life and out of the great love I bear that fatherin his far-away ocean grave,--in his name and in my own,--Iforgive you, his brother, even that wrong!"
As Scott left the room, he passed Mr. Whitney in the hall, who,seeing in his face traces of recent emotion, looked after him withgreat surprise.
"That young man is a mystery!" he soliloquized. "A mystery! Iconfess I cannot understand him."
A little later the master of Fair Oaks passed for the last timedown the winding, oak-lined avenue, followed by the guests of theplace and by a small concourse of friends, whose sorrow, thoughunexpressed by outward signs of mourning, was, in reality, the moresincere.
Mrs. LaGrange, who, as housekeeper, had remained at Fair Oaks,seemed, as the last carriage disappeared from view, to be on theverge of collapse from nervous prostration. No one knew the mentalexcitement or the terrible nervous strain which she had undergoneduring those last few days. Many at the funeral had noted herextreme pallor, but no one dreamed of the tremendous will powerby which she had maintained her customary haughty bearing. Whenall had gone, she rose and attempted to go to her room, but in thehall she staggered helplessly and, with a low moan, sank unconsciousto the floor. The screams of the chambermaid, who had seen herfall, summoned to her assistance the other servants, who carriedher to her room, where she slowly regained consciousness, openingher eyes with an expression of terror, then closing them again witha shudder. Suddenly she seemed to recall her surroundings; with agreat effort she rallied and dismissed the servants, with theexception of the chambermaid, saying, "It was nothing, only a littlefaintness caused by the heat. The room was insufferably close. Saynothing of this to the others when they return."
With Katie's assistance, she exchanged her heavy dress for a lightwrapper of creamy silk, and soon seemed herself again except forher unusual pallor.
"That will do, Katie; I shall not need you further. By the way,did Walter go with the others, or did he remain at home?"
"Mr. Walter is in his room, ma'am; and I heard Hardy say that hewas packing up his clothes and things."
Mrs. LaGrange betrayed no surprise, no emotion of any kind. "Sayto him that I would like to see him in my room at once."
The girl disappeared, leaving Mrs. LaGrange to her own reflections,which seemed anything but pleasant. The look of terror returnedto her face; she clinched her hands until the jewels cut deeply intothe white fingers; then, springing to her feet, she paced the roomwildly until she heard the footsteps of her son approaching, whenshe instantly assumed her usual composure.
Walter LaGrange had left Fair Oaks immediately at the close of theinquest, and had not returned except to be present at the funeral,and even there his sullen appearance had caused general remark.Very little love had ever existed between mother and son, for neitherhad a nature capable of deep affection, but never until now had therebeen any open rupture between them. Though closely resembling eachother, he lacked her ability to plan and execute, and had hithertobeen content to follow her counsels. But, as he now entered hismother's room, a glance revealed to her that her authority andinfluence over him were past.
"You sent for me, I believe. What do you want?" he asked, as shelooked at him without speaking.
"Do you consider your conduct becoming towards a mother who isrisking everything for you and your interests?"
"Oh, my interests be hanged," he exclaimed, petulantly. "I don'tsee that you've accomplished much for my interests with all yourscheming. A week ago I could hold up my head with any of thefellows. I was supposed to be a relative of Hugh Mainwaring's,with good prospects, and that I would come in for a good roundsum whenever the old fellow made his will,--just as I did. Nowthat's gone, and everything's gone; I haven't even a name left!"
"Walter LaGrange, what do you mean? Do you dare insinuate to yourown mother-"
"Why don't you call me Walter Mainwaring?" he sneered. "As toinsinuations, I have to hear plenty of 'em. Last night I wasblack-balled at one of the clubs where my name had been presentedfor membership, and a lot of the fellows have cut me dead."
"Walter, listen to me. You are Hugh Mainwaring's son and I washis wife. I will yet compel people to recognize us as such; butyou must--"
"Tell me one thing," he demanded, interrupting her. "If I was HughMainwaring's son, why have I not borne his name? Why did he notrecognize me as such? I'll claim no man for my father who wouldnot acknowledge me as his son."
Then, before she could reply, he added, "If you were the wife ofHugh Mainwaring, what was the meaning of your proposal of marriageto him less than three months ago?"
She grew deathly pale; but he, seeming to enjoy the situation,repeated, sneeringly, "Less than three months ago, the n
ight onwhich he gave you the necklace which you commissioned me to sellthe other day! You urged your suit with a vengeance, too, Iremember, for you threatened to ruin him if he did not come toyour terms.
"I only laughed then, for I thought 'twas another scheme of yoursto get a tighter hold on the old man's purse-strings. It's nothingto me what your object was, but in view of the fact that I happenedto overhear that little episode, it might be just as well not totry to tell me that I am Hugh Mainwaring's son. You will naturallysee that I am not likely to be interested in helping carry out thatlittle farce!"
Still controlling herself by a tremendous will power, the wretchedwoman made one more desperate effort. In low tones she replied,--
"You show your base ingratitude by thus insulting your mother andrunning the risk of betraying her to listening servants by yourtalk. Of course, this is all a farce, as you say, but it must becarried through. You and I were distantly related to HughMainwaring, but what chance would we have against these people withno more of a claim than ours? I am compelled to assert that I washis wife and that you are his son in order to win any recognitionin the eyes of the law."
For an instant her son regarded her with an expression of mingledsurprise and incredulity, then the sneer returned, and, turning toleave the room, he answered, carelessly,--
"You can tell your little story to other people, and when you havewon a fortune on it, why, I'll be around for my share, as, whatevermy doubts in other directions, I have not the slightest doubt thatyou are my mother, and therefore bound to support me. But, for thepresent, if you please, I'll go by the old name of LaGrange. It'sa name that suits me very well yet, even though," and a strange lookflashed at her from his dark eyes, "even though it may be only aborrowed one," and the door closed, for the last time, betweenmother and son.
A low moan escaped from the lips of the unhappy woman. "My son--theonly living being of my flesh and blood--even he has turnedagainst me!" Too proud to recall him, however, she sank exhaustedupon a couch, and, burying her face in her hands, wept bitterly forthe first and only time in her remembrance.
Meanwhile, the guests of Fair Oaks, having returned from the funeral,had assembled in the large library below, and were engaged inanimated discussion regarding the disposition to be made of theproperty. Ralph Mainwaring and Mr. Thornton, with pencils and paper,were computing stocks and bonds, and estimating how much of a marginwould be left after the purchase of the old Mainwaring estate, whichthey had heard could be bought at a comparatively low figure, thepresent owner being somewhat embarrassed financially; while Mrs.Mainwaring was making a careful inventory of the furniture, paintings,and bric-a-brac at Fair Oaks, with a view of ascertaining whetherthere were any articles which she would care to retain for theirfuture home.
Mr. Whitney, who, as a bachelor and an intimate friend of HughMainwaring's, as well as his legal adviser, had perhaps more thanany one else enjoyed the hospitality of his beautiful suburban home,found the conversation extremely distasteful, and, having furnishedwhatever information was desired, excused himself and left the room.As he sauntered out upon the broad veranda, he was surprised to seeMiss Carleton, who had made her escape through one of the longwindows, and who looked decidedly bored.
"It's perfectly beastly! Don't you think so?" she exclaimed,looking frankly into his face, as if sure of sympathy.
She had so nearly expressed his own feelings that he flushedslightly, as he replied, with a smile, "It looks rather peculiar toan outsider, but I suppose it is only natural."
"It is natural for them," she replied, with emphasis.
"I did not intend to be personal; I meant human nature generally."
"I have too much respect for human nature generally to believe itas selfish and as mercenary as that. I have learned one lesson,however. I will never leave my property to my friends, hoping byso doing to be held in loving remembrance. It would be the surestway to make them forget me."
"Has your experience of the last few days made you so cynical asthat?" the attorney inquired, again smiling into the bright, fairface beside him.
"It is not cynicism, Mr. Whitney; it is the plain truth. I havealways known that the Mainwarings as a family were mercenary; but Iconfess I had no idea, until within the last few days, that theywere capable of such beastly ingratitude."
"Do you mean to say that it is a trait of the entire Mainwaringfamily, or only of this branch in particular?" he inquired, somewhatamused.
"All the Mainwarings are noted for their worship of the golden god,"she replied, with a low musical laugh; "but Ralph Mainwaring's loveof money is almost a monomania. He has planned and schemed to getthat old piece of English property into his hands for years andyears, in fact, ever since it was willed to Hugh Mainwaring at thetime his brother was disinherited, and the name he gave to his sonwas the first stone laid to pave the way to this coveted fortune."
"I see. Pardon me, Miss Carleton; but you just now alluded to HughMainwaring's brother. I remember some mention was made at theinquest of a brother, but I supposed it must be an error. Had hereally a brother?"
"Ah, yes, an elder brother; and he must have been less avariciousthan the rest of them, as he sacrificed a fortune for love. It wasquite a little romance, you know. He and his brother Hugh wereboth in love with the same lady. The father did not approve, andgave his sons their choice between love without a fortune or afortune without love. Hugh Mainwaring chose the latter, but Harold,the elder, was true to his lady, and was consequently disinherited."
"Poor Hugh Mainwaring!" commented the attorney; "he made his choicefor life of a fortune without love, and a sad life it was, too!"
Miss Carleton glanced up with quick sympathy. "Yes, it seemed tome his life must have been rather lonely and sad."
There was a pause, and she added, "And did he never speak to you,his intimate friend, of his brother?"
"Never."
"Strange! Perhaps he was like the others, after all, and thoughtof nothing but money."
"No, I cannot believe that of Hugh Mainwaring," the attorney replied,loyally; then added, "What became of the brother, Miss Carleton?"
"He was lost at sea. He had started for Africa, to make a fortunefor himself, but the boat was wrecked in a storm and every one onboard was lost."
"And his family, what of them?" queried the attorney.
"He had no children, and no one ever knew what became of his wife.The Mainwarings are a very prosaic family; that is the only bit ofromance in their history; but I always enjoyed that, except thatit ended so sadly, and I always admired Harold Mainwaring. I wouldlike to meet such a man as he."
"Why, I should say there was a romance in progress at present inthe Mainwaring family," said Mr. Whitney, smiling.
"What! Hugh and Edith Thornton?" She laughed again, a wonderfullymusical, rippling laugh, the attorney thought. "Oh, there is nomore romance there than there is in that marble," and she pointedto a beautiful Cupid and Psyche embracing each other in the centreof a mass of brilliant geraniums and coleas. "They have beenengaged ever since their days of long dresses and highchairs,--anotherof Ralph Mainwaring's schemes! You know Edith is Hugh'scousin, an only child, and her father is immensely rich! Oh, no; ifI ever have a romance of my own, it must spring right upspontaneously, and grow in spite of all opposition. Not one of thesort that has been fostered in a hot-house until its life is nearlystifled out of it."
Mr. Whitney glanced in admiration at the fair English face besidehim glowing with physical and intellectual beauty. Then a momentlater, as they passed down the long hall in response to the summonsto dinner, and he caught a glimpse, in one of the mirrors, of atolerably good-looking, professional gentleman of nearly forty, hewondered why he suddenly felt so much older than ever before.
Miss Carleton was seated beside him at dinner, while nearly oppositewas Harry Scott, conversing with young Mainwaring. He was quietlybut elegantly dressed, and his fine physique and noble bearing, aswell as the striking beauty of his dark fac
e, seemed more markedthan usual. Mr. Whitney watched the young secretary narrowly.Something in the play of his features seemed half familiar, and yetgave him a strange sense of pain, but why, he could not determine.
"Mr. Whitney," said Miss Carleton, in a low tone, "did you everobserve a resemblance at times between Mr. Scott and your friend,Mr. Hugh Mainwaring?"
The attorney looked up in surprise. "Why, no, Miss Carleton, Iwould not think a resemblance possible. Mr. Scott is much darkerand his features are altogether different."
"Oh, I did not refer to any resemblance of feature or complexion,but his manner, and sometimes his expression, strikes me as verysimilar. I suppose because he was associated with him so much,you know."
Mr. Whitney's eyes again wandered to the face of the secretary. Hestarted involuntarily. "By George!" he ejaculated, mentally, "HughMainwaring, as sure as I live! Not a feature like him, but the sameexpression. What does it mean? Can it be simply from association?"
In a state of great bewilderment he endeavored still to entertainMiss Carleton, though it is to be feared she found him ratherabsent-minded. He was passing out of the dining-room in a brownstudy when some one touched his arm. He turned and saw Merrick.
"When you are at liberty, come out to the grove," the latter said,briefly, and was gone before the attorney could more than bow inreply.
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