XXXIII
LUCETTA
The next morning I rose with the lark. I had slept well, and all my oldvigor had returned. A new problem was before me; a problem of surpassinginterest, now that the Knollys family had been eliminated from the listof persons regarded with suspicion by the police. Mother Jane and thejewels were to be Mr. Gryce's starting-point for future investigation.Should they be mine? My decision on this point halted, and thinking itmight be helped by a breath of fresh air, I decided upon an early strollas a means of settling this momentous question.
There was silence in the house when I passed through it on my way to thefront door. But that silence had lost its terrors and the old house itsabsorbing mystery. Yet it was not robbed of its interest. When Irealized that Althea Knollys, the Althea of my youth, had just diedwithin its walls as ignorant of my proximity as I of hers, I felt thatno old-time romance, nor any terror brought by flitting ghost orstalking apparition, could compare with the wonder of this return andthe strange and thrilling circumstances which had attended it. And theend was not yet. Peaceful as everything now looked, I still felt thatthe end had not come.
The fact that Saracen was loose in the yard gave me some slight concernas I opened the great front door and looked out. But the control underwhich I had held him the day before encouraged me in my venture, andafter a few words with Hannah, who was careful not to let me slip awayunnoticed, I boldly stepped forth and took my solitary way down to thegate.
It was not yet eight, and the grass was still heavy with dew. At thegate I paused. I wished to go farther, but Mr. Gryce's injunction hadbeen imperative about venturing into the lane alone. Besides--No, thatwas not a horse's hoof. There could be no one on the road so early asthis. I was alarming myself unnecessarily, yet--Well, I held my place, alittle awkwardly, perhaps. Self-consciousness is always awkward, and Icould not help being a trifle self-conscious at a meeting so unexpectedand--But the more I attempt to explain, the more confused my expressionsbecome, so I will just say that, by this very strange chance, I wasleaning over the gate when Mr. Trohm rode up for the second time andfound me there.
I did not attempt any excuses. He is gentleman enough to understand thata woman of my temperament rises early and must have the morning air.That he should feel the same necessity is a coincidence, naturalperhaps, but still a coincidence. So there was nothing to be said aboutit.
But had there been, I would not have spoken, for he seemed so gratifiedat finding me enjoying nature at this early hour that any words from mewould have been quite superfluous. He did not dismount--that would haveshown intention--but he stopped, and--well, we have both passed the ageof romance, and what he said cannot be of interest to the generalpublic, especially as it did not deal with the disappearances or withthe discoveries made in the Knollys house the day before, or with any ofthose questions which have absorbed our attention up to this time.
That we were engaged more than five minutes in this conversation Icannot believe. I have always been extremely accurate in regard to time,yet a good half-hour was lost by me that morning for which I have neverbeen able to account. Perhaps it was spent in the short discussion whichterminated our interview; a discussion which may be of interest to you,for it was upon the action of the police.
"Nothing came of the investigations made by Mr. Gryce yesterday, Iperceive," Mr. Trohm had remarked, with some reluctance, as he gatheredup his reins to depart. "Well, that is not strange. How could he havehoped to find any clue to such a mystery as he is engaged to unearth, ina house presided over by Miss Knollys?"
"How could he, indeed! Yet," I added, determined to allay this man'ssuspicions, which, notwithstanding the openness of his remark, werestill observable in his tones, "you say that with an air I should hardlyexpect from so good a neighbor and friend. Why is this, Mr. Trohm?Surely you do not associate crime with the Misses Knollys?"
"Crime? Oh, no, certainly not. No one could associate crime with theMisses Knollys. If my tone was at fault, it was due perhaps to myembarrassment--this meeting, your kindness, the beauty of the day, andthe feeling these all call forth. Well, I may be pardoned if my tonesare not quite true in discussing other topics. My thoughts were with theone I addressed."
"Then that tone of doubt was all the more misplaced," I retorted. "I amso frank, I cannot bear innuendo in others. Besides, Mr. Trohm, theworst folly of this home was laid bare yesterday in a way to set at restall darker suspicions. You knew that William indulged in vivisection.Well, that is bad, but it cannot be called criminal. Let us do himjustice, then, and, for his sisters' sake, see how we can re-establishhim in the good graces of the community."
But Mr. Trohm, who for all our short acquaintance was not without a verydecided appreciation for certain points in my character, shook his headand with a smiling air returned:
"You are asking the impossible not only of the community, but yourself.William can never re-establish himself. He is of too rude a make. Thegirls may recover the esteem they seem to have lost, but William--Why,if the cause of those disappearances was found to-day, and found at theremotest end of this road or even up in the mountains, where no oneseems to have looked for it, William would still be known throughout thecounty as a rough and cruel man. I have tried to stand his friend, butit's been against odds, Miss Butterworth. Even his sisters recognizethis, and show their lack of confidence in our friendship. But I wouldlike to oblige you."
I knew he ought to go. I knew that if he had simply lingered the fiveminutes which common courtesy allowed, that curious eyes would belooking from Loreen's window, and that at any minute I might expect someinterference from Lucetta, who had read through this man's forbearancetoward William the very natural distrust he could not but feel toward souncertain a character. Yet with such an opportunity at my command, howcould I let him go without another question?
"Mr. Trohm," said I, "you have the kindest heart and the closest lips,but have you ever thought that Deacon Spear----"
He stopped me with a really horrified look. "Deacon Spear's house wasthoroughly examined yesterday," said he, "as mine will be to-day. Don'tinsinuate anything against him! Leave that for foolish William." Thenwith the most charming return to his old manner, for I felt myself in ameasure rebuked, he lifted his hat and urged his horse forward. But,having withdrawn himself a step or two, he paused and with the slightestgesture toward the little hut he was facing, added in a much lower tonethan any he had yet used: "Besides, Deacon Spear is much too far awayfrom Mother Jane's cottage. Don't you remember that I told you she nevercould be got to go more than forty rods from her own doorstep?" And,breaking into a quick canter, he rode away.
I was left to think over his words and the impossibility of my pickingup any other clue than that given me by Mr. Gryce.
I was turning toward the house when I heard a slight noise at my feet.Looking down, I encountered the eyes of Saracen. He was crouching at myside, and as I turned toward him, his tail actually wagged. It was asight to call the color up to my cheek; not that I blushed at this signof good-will, astonishing as it was, considering my feeling toward dogs,but at his being there at all without my knowing it. So palpable a proofthat no woman--I make no exceptions--can listen more than one minute tothe expressions of a man's sincere admiration without losing a little ofher watchfulness, was not to be disregarded by one as inexorable to herown mistakes as to those of others. I saw myself the victim of vanity,and while somewhat abashed by the discovery, I could not but realizethat this solitary proof of feminine weakness was not really to bedeplored in one who has not yet passed the line beyond which any suchdisplay is ridiculous.
Lucetta met me at the door just as I had expected her to. Giving me ashort look, she spoke eagerly but with a latent anxiety, for which I wasmore or less prepared.
"I am glad to see you looking so bright this morning," she declared. "Weare all feeling better now that the incubus of secrecy is removed.But"--here she hesitated--"I would not like to think you told Mr. Trohmwhat happened to us yesterday."
For reply she gave me an impulsive kiss. "I thought I could trust you,"she cried. Then, with a dubious look, half daring, half shrinking, sheadded:
"When you come to know and like us better, you will not care so much totalk to neighbors. They never can understand us or do us justice, Mr.Trohm, especially."
This was a remark I could not let pass.
"Why?" I demanded. "Why do you think Mr. Trohm cherishes such animositytowards you? Has he ever----"
But Lucetta could exercise a repellent dignity when she chose. I did notfinish my sentence, though I must have looked the inquiry I thoughtbetter not to put into words.
"Mr. Trohm is a man of blameless reputation," she avowed. "If he hasallowed himself to cherish suspicions in our regard, he has doubtlesshad his reasons for it."
And with these quiet words she left me to my thoughts, and I must say tomy doubts, which were all the more painful that I saw no immediateopportunity for clearing them up.
Late in the afternoon William burst in with news from the other end ofthe lane.
"Such a lark!" he cried. "The investigation at Deacon Spear's house wasa mere farce, and I just made them repeat it with a few frills. They haddug up my cellar, and I was determined they should dig up his. Oh, thefun it was! The old fellow kicked, but I had my way. They couldn'trefuse me, you know; I hadn't refused them. So that man's cellar-bottomhas had a stir up. They didn't find anything, but it did me a lot ofgood, and that's something. I do hate Deacon Spear--couldn't hate himworse if he'd killed and buried ten men under his hearthstone."
"There is no harm in Deacon Spear," said Lucetta, quickly.
"Did they submit Mr. Trohm's house to a search also?" asked Loreen,ashamed of William's heat and anxious to avert any further display ofit.
"Yes, they went through that too. I was with them. Glad I was too. Isay, girls, I could have laughed to see all the comforts that oldbachelor has about him. Never saw such fixings. Why, that house is asneat and pretty from top to bottom as any old maid's. It's silly, ofcourse, for a man, and I'd rather live in an old rookery like this,where I can walk from room to room in muddy boots if I want to, andtrain my dogs and live in freedom like the man I am. Yet I couldn't helpthinking it mighty comfortable, too, for an old fellow like him wholikes such things and don't have chick or child to meddle. Why, he hadpincushions on all his bureaus, and they had pins in them."
The laugh with which he delivered this last sentence might have beenheard a quarter of a mile away. Lucetta looked at Loreen and Loreenlooked at me, but none of us joined in the mirth, which seemed to mevery ill-timed.
Suddenly Lucetta asked:
"Did they dig up Mr. Trohm's cellar?"
William stopped laughing long enough to say:
"His cellar? Why, it's cemented as hard as an oak floor. No, they didn'tpolish their spades in his house, which was another source ofsatisfaction to me. Deacon Spear hasn't even that to comfort him. Oh,how I did enjoy that old fellow's face when they began to root up hisold fungi!"
Lucetta turned away with a certain odd constraint I could not butnotice.
"It's a humiliating day for the lane," said she. "And what is worse,"she suddenly added, "nothing will ever come of it. It will take morethan a band of police to reach the root of this matter."
I thought her manner odd, and, moving towards her, took her by the handwith something of a relative's familiarity.
"What makes you say that? Mr. Gryce seems a very capable man."
"Yes, yes, but capability has nothing to do with it. Chance might andpluck might, but wit and experience not. Otherwise the mystery wouldhave been settled long ago. I wish I----"
"Well?" Her hand was trembling violently.
"Nothing. I don't know why I have allowed myself to talk on thissubject. Loreen and I once made a compact never to give any opinion uponit. You see how I have kept it."
She had drawn her hand away and suddenly had become quite composed. Iturned my attention toward Loreen, but she was looking out of the windowand showed no intention of further pursuing the conversation. Williamhad strolled out.
"Well," said I, "if ever a girl had reason for breaking such a compactyou are certainly that girl. I could never have been as silent as youhave been--that is, if I had any suspicions on so serious a subject.Why, your own good name is impugned--yours and that of every otherperson living in this lane."
"Miss Butterworth," she replied, "I have gone too far. Besides, you havemisunderstood me. I have no more knowledge than anybody else as to thesource of these terrible tragedies. I only know that an almostsuperhuman cunning lies at the bottom of so many unaccountabledisappearances, a cunning so great that only a crazy person----"
"Ah," I murmured eagerly, "Mother Jane!"
She did not answer. Instantly I took a resolution.
"Lucetta," said I, "is Deacon Spear a rich man?"
Starting violently, she looked at me amazed.
"If he is, I should like to hazard the guess that he is the man who hasheld you in such thraldom for years."
"And if he were?" said she.
"I could understand William's antipathy to him and also his suspicions."
She gave me a strange look, then without answering walked over and tookLoreen by the hand. "Hush!" I thought I heard her whisper. At all eventsthe two sisters were silent for more than a moment. Then Lucetta said:
"Deacon Spear is well off, but nothing will ever make me accuse livingman of crime so dreadful." And she walked away, drawing Loreen afterher. In another moment she was out of the room, leaving me in a state ofgreat excitement.
"This girl holds the secret to the whole situation," I inwardly decided."The belief that nothing more can be learned from her is a false one. Imust see Mr. Gryce. William's rodomontades are so much empty air, butLucetta's silence has a meaning we cannot afford to ignore."
So impressed was I by this, that I took the first opportunity whichpresented itself of seeing the detective. This was early the nextmorning. He and several of the townspeople had made their appearance atMother Jane's cottage, with spades and picks, and the sight hadnaturally drawn us all down to the gate, where we stood watchingoperations in a silence which would have been considered unnatural byany one who did not realize the conflicting nature of the emotionsunderlying it. William, to whom the death of his mother seemed to be agreat deliverance, had been inclined to be more or less jocular, but hissallies meeting with no response, he had sauntered away to have it outwith his dogs, leaving me alone with the two girls and Hannah.
The latter seemed to be absorbed entirely by the aspect of Mother Jane,who stood upon her doorstep in an attitude so menacing that it waslittle short of tragic. Her hood, for the first time in the memory ofthose present, had fallen away from her head, revealing a wealth of grayhair which flew away from her head like a weird halo. Her features wecould not distinguish, but the emotion which inspired her, breathed inevery gesture of her uplifted arms and swaying body. It was wrathpersonified, and yet an unreasoning wrath. One could see she was as muchdazed as outraged. Her lares and penates were being attacked, and shehad come from the heart of her solitude to defend them.
"I declare!" Hannah protested. "It is pitiful. She has nothing in theworld but that garden, and now they are going to root that up."
"Do you think that the sight of a little money would appease her?" Iinquired, anxious for an excuse to drop a word into the ear of Mr.Gryce.
"Perhaps," said Hannah. "She dearly loves money, but it will not takeaway her fright."
"It will if she has nothing to be frightened about," said I; and turningto the girls, I asked them, somewhat mincingly for me, if they thought Iwould ma
ke myself conspicuous if I crossed the road on this errand, andwhen Loreen answered that that would not deter her if she had the money,and Lucetta added that the sight of such misery was too painful for anymere personal consideration, I took advantage of their complaisance, andhastily made my way over to the group, who were debating as to the pointthey would attack first.
"Gentlemen," said I, "good-morning. I am here on an errand of mercy.Poor old Mother Jane is half imbecile and does not understand why youinvade her premises with these implements. Will you object if I endeavorto distract her mind with a little piece of gold I happen to have in mypocket? She may not deserve it, but it will make your task easier andsave us some possible concern."
Half of the men at once took off their hats. The other half nudged eachother's elbows, and whispered and grimaced like the fools they were. Thefirst half were gentlemen, though not all of them wore gentlemen'sclothes.
It was Mr. Gryce who spoke:
"Certainly, madam. Give the old woman anything you please, but--" Andhere he stepped up to me and began to whisper; "You have something tosay. What is it?"
I answered in the same quick way: "The mine you thought exhausted haspossibilities in it yet. Question Lucetta. It may prove a more fruitfultask than turning up this soil."
The bow he made was more for the onlookers than for the suggestion I hadgiven him. Yet he was not ungrateful for the latter, as I, who wasbeginning to understand him, could see.
"Be as generous as you please!" he cried aloud. "We would not disturbthe old crone if it were not for one of her well-known follies. Nothingwill take her over forty rods away from her home. Now what lies withinthose forty rods? These men think we ought to see."
The shrug I gave answered both the apparent and the concealed question.Satisfied that he would understand it so, I hurried away from him andapproached Mother Jane.
"See!" said I, astonished at the regularity of her features, now that Ihad a good opportunity of observing them. "I have brought you money. Letthem dig up your turnips if they will."
She did not seem to perceive me. Her eyes were wild with dismay and herlips trembling with a passion far beyond my power to comfort.
"Lizzie!" she cried. "Lizzie! She will come back and find no home. Oh,my poor girl! My poor, poor girl!"
It was pitiable. I could not doubt her anguish or her sincerity. Thedelirium of a broken heart cannot be simulated. And this heart was notcontrolled by reason; that was equally apparent. Immediately my heart,which goes out slowly, but none the less truly on that account, wastouched by something more than the surface sympathy of the moment. Shemay have stolen, she may have done worse, she may even have been at thebottom of the horrible crimes which have given its name to the lane wewere in, but her acts, if acts they were, were the result of a cloudedmind fixed forever upon the fancied needs of another, and not theexpression of personal turpitude or even of personal longing or avarice.Therefore I could pity her, and I did.
Making another appeal, I pressed the coin hard into one of her handstill the contact effected what my words had been unable to do, and shefinally looked down and saw what she was clutching. Then indeed heraspect changed, and in a few minutes of slowly growing comprehension shebecame so quiet and absorbed that she forgot to look at the men and evenforgot me, who was probably nothing more than a flitting shadow to her.
"A silk gown," she murmured. "It will buy Lizzie a silk gown. Oh! wheredid it come from, the good, good gold, the beautiful gold; such a littlepiece, yet enough to make her look fine, my Lizzie, my pretty, prettyLizzie?"
No numbers this time. The gift was too overpowering for her even toremember that it must be hidden away.
I walked away while her delight was still voluble. Somehow it eased mymind to have done her this little act of kindness, and I think it easedthe minds of the men too. At all events, every hat was off when Irepassed them on my way back to the Knollys gateway.
I had left both the girls there, but I found only one awaiting me.Lucetta had gone in, and so had Hannah. On what errand I was soon toknow.
"What do you suppose that detective wants of Lucetta now?" asked Loreenas I took my station again at her side. "While you were talking toMother Jane he stepped over here, and with a word or two induced Lucettato walk away with him toward the house. See, there they are in thosethick shrubs near the right wing. He seems to be pleading with her. Doyou think I ought to join them and find out what he is urging upon herso earnestly? I don't like to seem intrusive, but Lucetta is easilyagitated, you know, and his business cannot be of an indifferent natureafter all he has discovered concerning our affairs."
"No," I agreed, "and yet I think Lucetta will be strong enough tosustain the conversation, judging from the very erect attitude she isholding now. Perhaps he thinks she can tell him where to dig. They seema little at sea over there, and living, as you do, a few rods fromMother Jane, he may imagine that Lucetta can direct him where to firstplant the spade."
"It's an insult," Loreen protested. "All these talks and visits areinsults. To be sure, this detective has some excuse, but----"
"Keep your eye on Lucetta," I interrupted. "She is shaking her head andlooking very positive. She will prove to him it is an insult. We neednot interfere, I think."
But Loreen had grown pensive and did not heed my suggestion. A look thatwas almost wistful had supplanted the expression of indignant revoltwith which she had addressed me, and when next moment the two we hadbeen watching turned and came slowly toward us, it was with decidedenergy she bounded forward and joined them.
"What is the matter now?" she asked. "What does Mr. Gryce want,Lucetta?"
Mr. Gryce himself spoke.
"I simply want her," said he, "to assist me with a clue from her inmostthoughts. When I was in your house," he explained with a praiseworthyconsideration for me and my relations to these girls for which I cannotbe too grateful, "I saw in this young lady something which convinced methat, as a dweller in this lane, she was not without her suspicions asto the secret cause of the fatal mysteries which I have been sent hereto clear up. To-day I have frankly accused her of this, and asked her toconfide in me. But she refuses to do so, Miss Loreen. Yet her face showseven at this moment that my old eyes were not at fault in my reading ofher. She does suspect somebody, and it is not Mother Jane."
"How can you say that?" began Lucetta, but the eyes which Loreen thatmoment turned upon her seemed to trouble her, for she did not attempt tosay any more--only looked equally obstinate and distressed.
"If Lucetta suspects any one," Loreen now steadily remarked, "then Ithink she ought to tell you who it is."
"You do. Then perhaps you--" commenced Mr. Gryce--"can persuade her asto her duty," he finished, as he saw her head rise in protest of what heevidently had intended to demand.
"Lucetta will not yield to persuasion," was her quiet reply. "Nothingshort of conviction will move the sweetest-natured but the mostdetermined of all my mother's children. What she thinks is right, shewill do. I will not attempt to influence her."
Mr. Gryce, with one comprehensive survey of the two, hesitated nolonger. I saw the rising of the blood into his forehead, which alwaysprecedes the beginning of one of his great moves, and, filled with asudden excitement, I awaited his next words as a tyro awaits the firstunfolding of the plan he has seen working in the brain of some famousstrategist.
"Miss Lucetta,"--his very tone was changed, changed in a way to make usall start notwithstanding the preparation his momentary silence hadgiven us--"I have been thus pressing and perhaps rude in my appeal,because of something which has come to my knowledge which cannot butmake you of all persons extremely anxious as to the meaning of thisterrible mystery. I am an old man, and you will not mind my bluntness. Ihave been told--and your agitation convinces me there is truth in thereport--that you have a lover, a Mr. Ostrander----"
"Ah!" She had sunk as if crushed by one overwhelming blow to the earth.The eyes, the lips, the whole pitiful face that was upturned to us,remain in my memory to-day
as the most terrible and yet the most movingspectacle that has come into my by no means uneventful life. "What hashappened to him? Quick, quick, tell me!"
For answer Mr. Gryce drew out a telegram.
"From the master of the ship on which he was to sail," he explained. "Itasks if Mr. Ostrander left this town on Tuesday last, as no news hasbeen received of him."
"Loreen! Loreen! When he left us he passed down that way!" shrieked thegirl, rising like a spirit and pointing east toward Deacon Spear's. "Heis gone! He is lost! But his fate shall not remain a mystery. I willdare its solution. I--I--To-night you will hear from me again."
And without another glance at any of us she turned and fled toward thehouse.
Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 34