Sons and Fathers

by Harry Stillwell Edwards

  CHAPTER XL.

  THE HIDDEN HAND.

  It matters little what kind of seed is planted, it finds its properelements in the soil. So with rumors. There is never a rumor so wild,but that finds a place for its roots.

  It soon reached the coroner, that zealous officer whose compensation isbased upon fees, that his exchequer had been defrauded by the improperburial of a woman out at Ilexhurst. She had dropped dead, and there hadnot been a witness. An inquest was proper; was necessary. He began aninvestigation. And then appeared in the brevity columns of one of thepapers the incipient scandal:

  "It is whispered that suspicions of foul play are entertained inconnection with Rita, the housekeeper of the late John Morgan atIlexhurst. The coroner will investigate."

  And the next day the following:

  "Our vigilant coroner has made inquiry into the death and burial of RitaMorgan, and feels that the circumstances demand a disinterment andexamination of the body. So far the rumors of foul play come fromnegroes only. It seems that Mr. Edward Morgan found the woman lying inhis yard, and that she died almost immediately after the discovery. Itwas upon the night but one preceding his meeting with Mr. Royson on thefield of honor, and during his absence next day the body was hurriedlyinterred. There is little doubt that the woman came to her death fromnatural causes, but it is known that she had few if any friends amongher race, and other circumstances attending her demise are such that thebody will be disinterred and examined for evidence."

  Even this did not especially interest the public. But when next day themorning papers came out with triple headlines the first of which was"Murdered," followed by a succinct account of the disinterment of RitaMorgan, as she was called, with the discovery of a cut on the lefttemple and a wound in the back of the head that had crushed in theskull, the public was startled. No charge was made against EdwardMorgan, no connection hinted at, but it was stated in the history of thewoman, that she was the individual referred to in Royson's famous letteron which the duel had been fought, and that she died suddenly upon theday it was published. The paper said that it was unfortunate that Mr.Morgan had left several days before for Paris, and had sailed thatmorning from New York.

  Then the public tongue began to wag and the public mind to waitimpatiently for the inquest.

  The inquest was held in due form. The surgeons designated to examine thesupposed wounds reported them genuine, the cut in the temple trifling,the blow in the back of the head sufficient to have caused death.

  A violent discussion ensued when the jury came to make up its verdict,but the conservative members carried the day. A verdict of "death by ablow upon the head by a weapon in the hands of a person or personsunknown to the jury" was rendered; the body reinterred and the crowds ofcuriosity seekers withdrew from Ilexhurst.

  Unfortunately during the era of excitement Gerald was locked in hisroom, lost in the contemplation of some question of memory that had comeupon him, and he was not summoned as a witness, from the fact that in noway had he been mentioned in the case, except by Gen. Evan, whotestified that he was asleep when the death occurred. The Germanprofessor and Gen. Evan were witnesses and gave their testimony readily.

  Evan explained that, although present at the finding of the body, heleft immediately to meet a gentleman who had called, and did not return.When asked as to Edward's actions he admitted that they were excited,but stated that other matters, naming them briefly, were engaging themat the same time and that they were of a disturbing nature. The woman,he said, had first attracted Edward's attention by falling against theglass, which she was evidently looking through, and which she broke inher fall. If she was struck, it was probably at that moment.

  He was positive in his belief that at the time the sound of fallingglass was heard Edward was in the room, but he would not state it underoath as a fact. It was this evidence that carried the day.

  When asked where was Edward Morgan and the reason for his absence, hesaid that he had gone as the escort of Mrs. Montjoy to Paris, where hereyes were to be examined, and that the trip had been contemplated forseveral weeks. Also that he would return in less than a month.

  Nevertheless, the gravest of comments began to be heard upon thestreets, and prophecies were plenty that Edward would never return.

  And into these began to creep a word now and then for Royson. "He knewmore than he could prove," "was the victim of circumstances," "a boldfellow," etc., were fragments of conversation connected with his name.

  "We fought out that issue once," he said, briefly, when asked directlyabout the character of the woman Rita, "and it is settled so far as I amconcerned." And the public liked the answer.

  No charge, however, had been brought against Edward Morgan; the matterwas simply one that disturbed the public; it wanted his explanation andhis presence. But behind it all, behind the hesitancy which the stern,open championship of Evan and Montjoy commanded, lay the propositionthat of all people in the world only Edward Morgan could have beenbenefited by the death of the woman; that he was the only person presentand that she died a violent death. And people would talk.

  Then came a greater shock. A little paper, the Tell-Tale, published inan adjoining city and deriving its support from the publication ofscandals, in which the victim was described without naming, was criedupon the street. Copies were sold by the hundreds, then thousands. Itpractically charged that Edward Morgan was the son of Rita Morgan; thatupon finding Royson possessed of his secret he first killed the womanand then tried to kill that gentleman in a duel into which Morgan wentwith everything to gain and nothing to lose; that upon seeing the stormgathering he had fled the country, under the pretense of escorting avery estimable young lady and her mother abroad, the latter going tohave her eyes examined by a Parisian expert, the celebrated Moreau.

  It proceeded further; the young man had completely hoodwinked anddeceived the family to which these ladies belonged, and, it wasgenerally understood, would some day become the husband and son-in-law.Every sensational feature that could be imagined was brought out--evenGerald did not escape. He was put in as the legitimate heir of JohnMorgan; the child of a secret marriage, a _non compos mentis_ whoseproperty was being enjoyed by the other.

  The excitement in the city reached white heat. Col. Montjoy and Gen.Evan came out in cards and denounced the author of the letter aninfamous liar, and made efforts to bring the editor of the sheet intocourt. He could not be found.

  Days slipped by, and then came the climax! One of the sensational papersof New York published a four-column illustrated article headed "ASouthern Tragedy," which pretended to give the history of all theMorgans for fifty years or more. In this story the writer displayedconsiderable literary ability, and the situations were dramatically setforth. Pictures of Ilexhurst were given; the murder of a negro woman inthe night and a fancy sketch of Edward. The crowning shame was boldtype. No such sensation had been known since the race riots of 1874.

  In reply to this Montjoy and Evan also telegraphed fiery denunciationsand demanded the author's name. Their telegrams were published, anddemands treated with contempt. Norton Montjoy, in New York, had himselfinterviewed by rival papers, gave the true history of Morgan anddenounced the story in strong terms. He consulted lawyers and wasinformed that the Montjoys had no right of action.

  Court met and the grand jury conferred. Here was evidence of murder, andhere was a direct published charge. In vain Evan and Virdow testifiedbefore it. The strong influence of the former could not carry the day.The jury itself was political. It was part of the Swearingen ring. Whenit had completed its labors and returned its batch of bills, it wasknown in a few hours that Edward Morgan had been indicted for the murderof Rita Morgan.

  Grief and distress unspeakable reigned in the houses of Gen. Evan andCol. Montjoy, and in his bachelor quarters that night one man sat withhis face upon his hands and thought out all of the details of the sadcatastrophe. An unspeakable sorrow shone in his big eyes. Barksdale hadbeen touched in the tenderest part of his life. Morgan
he admired andrespected, but the name of the woman he loved had been bespattered withmud. With him there rested no duty. Had the circumstances beendifferent, there would have been a tragedy at the expense of his lastdollar--and he was rich.

  At the expense even of his enterprise and his business reputation, hewould have found the author of those letters and have shot him to deathat the door of a church, if necessary. There is one point on which thesouth has suffered no change.

  Morgan, he felt, would do the same, but now, alas, Morgan was indictedfor another murder, and afterward it would be too late. Too late! Hesprang to his feet and gave vent to a frightful malediction; then hegrew calm through sheer astonishment. Without knock or inquiry his doorwas thrown open and Gerald Morgan rushed into the room.

  When Barksdale had last seen this man he doubted his ability to standthe nervous strain put upon him, but here was evidence of an excitementtenfold greater. Gerald quivered like an overtaxed engine, and deep inthe pale face the blazing eyes shone with a horrible fierceness. The cryhe uttered as he paused before Barksdale was so unearthly that heunconsciously drew back. The young man was unrolling some papers. Uponthem were the scenes of the grave as he drew them--the open coffin, theshrunken face of the woman--and then, in all its repulsive exactness,the face of the man who had turned upon the artist under the electriclight!

  "What does it mean, my friend?" said Barksdale, seeking by a forcedcalmness to reduce the almost irrational visitor to reason again.

  "What?" exclaimed Gerald; "don't you understand? The man uncovered thatcoffin; he struck that blow upon poor dead Rita's head! I saw him faceto face and drew those pictures that night. There is the date."

  "You saw him?" Barksdale could not grasp the truth for an instant.

  "I saw him!"

  "Where is he now?"

  "I do not know; I do not know!" A thrill ran through the now eager man,and he felt that instead of calming the excitement of his visitor he wasgetting infected by it. He sat down deliberately.

  "Take a seat, Mr. Morgan, and tell me about it." But Gerald dropped thepictures and stood over them.

  "There was the grave," he said, "and the man was down in it; I stood uphere and lifted a spade, but then he had struck and was arranging herhair. If he had struck her again I would have killed him. I wanted tosee what it was about. I wanted to see the man. He fled, and then Ifollowed. Downtown I saw him under an electric light and got his face.He was the man, the infamous, cowardly scoundrel who struck poor Rita inher coffin; but why--why should any one want to strike Rita? I can'tsee. I can't see. And then to charge Edward with it!"

  Barksdale's blood ran cold during the recital, the scene so vividlypictured, the uncanny face before him. It was horrible. But over allcame the realization that some hidden hand was deliberately striking atthe life of Edward Morgan through the grave of the woman. Thecowardliness, the infamy, the cruelty was overpowering. He turned awayhis face.

  But the next instant he was cool. It was a frail and doubtful barrierbetween Edward and ruin, this mind unfolding its secret. If it failedthere was no other witness.

  "What became of the man, did you say?"

  "I do not know. I wanted his face; I got it."

  "Where did you last see him?"

  "On the street." Barksdale arose deliberately.

  "Mr. Morgan, how did you come here?"

  "I suppose I walked. I want you to help me find the man who struck theblow."

  "You are right, we must find the man. Now, I have a request to make.Edward trusted to my judgment in the other affair, and it came outright, did it not?"

  "Yes. That is why I have come to you."

  "Trust me again. Go home now and take that picture. Preserve it as youwould your life, for on it may hang the life of Edward Morgan. Youunderstand? And do not open your lips on this subject to any one until Isee you again."

  Gerald rolled up the paper and turned away abruptly. Barksdale followedhim down the steps and called a hack.

  "Your health," he said to Gerald, as he gently forced him into thecarriage, "must not be risked." And to the driver, slipping a fee in hishand: "Take Mr. Morgan to Ilexhurst. Remember, Mr. Morgan," he calledout.

  "I remember," was the reply. "I never forget. Would to God I could."

  Barksdale walked rapidly to the livery stable.