Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth
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XXXVII
I ASTONISH MR. GRYCE AND HE ASTONISHES ME
But as we approached the group of curious people which now filled up thewhole highway in front of Mother Jane's cottage, I broke from thenightmare into which this last discovery had thrown me, and, turning toWilliam, said with a resolute air:
"You and your sisters are not of one mind regarding thesedisappearances. You ascribe them to Deacon Spear, but they--whom do theyascribe them to?"
"I shouldn't think it would take a woman of your wit to answer thatquestion."
The rebuke was deserved. I had wit, but I had refused to exercise it; myblind partiality for a man of pleasing exterior and magnetic address hadprevented the cool play of my usual judgment, due to the occasion andthe trust which had been imposed in me by Mr. Gryce. Resolved that thisshould end, no matter at what cost to my feelings, I quietly said:
"You allude to Mr. Trohm."
"That is the name," he carelessly assented. "Girls, you know, let theirprejudices run away with them. An old grudge----"
"Yes," I tentatively put in; "he persecuted your mother, and so theythink him capable of any wickedness."
The growl which William gave was not one of dissent.
"But I don't care what they think," said he, looking down at the heap offruit which lay between us. "I'm Trohm's friend, and don't believe oneword they choose to insinuate against him. What if he didn't like whatmy mother did! We didn't like it either, and----"
"William," I calmly remarked, "if your sisters knew that Silly Rufus hadbeen found in Deacon Spear's barn they would no longer do Mr. Trohm thisinjustice."
"No; that would settle them; that would give me a triumph which wouldlast long after this matter was out of the way."
"Very well, then," said I, "I am going to bring about this triumph. I amgoing to tell Mr. Gryce at once what we have discovered in DeaconSpear's barn."
And without waiting for his ah, yes, or no, I jumped from the buggy andmade my way to the detective's side.
His welcome was somewhat unexpected. "Ah, fresh news!" he exclaimed. "Isee it in your eye. What have you chanced upon, madam, in yourdisinterested drive into town?"
I thought I had eliminated all expression from my face, and that mywords would bring a certain surprise with them. But it is useless to tryto surprise Mr. Gryce.
"You read me like a book," said I; "I have something to add to thesituation. Mr. Gryce, I have just come from the other end of the lane,where I found a clue which may shorten the suspense of this weary day,and possibly save Lucetta from the painful task she has undertaken inour interests. Mr. Chittenden's ring----"
I paused for the exclamation of encouragement he is accustomed to giveon such occasions, and while I paused, prepared for my accustomedtriumph. He did not fail me in the exclamation, nor did I miss myexpected triumph.
"Was not found by Mother Jane, or even brought to her in any ordinaryway or by any ordinary messenger. It came to her on a pigeon's neck, thepigeon you will find lying dead among the bushes in the Knollys yard."
He was amazed. He controlled himself, but he was very visibly amazed.His exclamations proved it.
"Madam! Miss Butterworth! This ring--Mr. Chittenden's ring, whosepresence in her hut we thought an evidence of guilt, was brought to herby one of her pigeons?"
"So she told me. I aroused her fury by showing her the empty husk inwhich it had been concealed. In her rage at its loss, she revealed thefact I have just mentioned. It is a curious one, sir, and one I am alittle proud to have discovered."
"Curious? It is more than curious; it is bizarre, and will rank, I amsafe in prophesying, as one of the most remarkable facts that have everadorned the annals of the police. Madam, when I say I envy you the honorof its discovery, you will appreciate my estimate of it--and you. Butwhen did you find this out, and what explanation are you able to give ofthe presence of this ring on a pigeon's neck?"
"Sir, to your first question I need only reply that I was here two hoursor so ago, and to the second that everything points to the fact that thering was attached to the bird by the victim himself, as an appeal forsuccor to whoever might be fortunate enough to find it. Unhappily itfell into the wrong hands. That is the ill-luck which often befallsprisoners."
"Prisoners?"
"Yes. Cannot you imagine a person shut up in an inaccessible placemaking some such attempt to communicate with his fellow-creatures?"
"But what inaccessible place have we in----"
"Wait," said I. "You have been in Deacon Spear's barn."
"Certainly, many times." But the answer, glib as it was, showed shock. Ibegan to gather courage.
"Well," said I, "there is a hiding-place in that barn which I daredeclare you have not penetrated."
"Do you think so, madam?"
"A little loft way up under the eaves, which can only be reached byclambering over the rafters. Didn't Deacon Spear tell you there was sucha place?"
"No, but----"
"William, then?" I inexorably pursued. "He says he pointed such a spotout to you, and that you pooh-poohed at it as inaccessible and not worththe searching."
"William is a--Madam, I beg your pardon, but William has just wit enoughto make trouble."
"But there is such a place there," I urged; "and, what is more, there issome one hidden in it now. I saw him myself."
"_You_ saw him?"
"Saw a part of him; in short, saw his hand. He was engaged in scatteringcrumbs for the pigeons."
"That does not look like starvation," smiled Mr. Gryce, with the firsthint of sarcasm he had allowed himself to make use of in this interview.
"No," said I; "but the time may not have come to inflict this penalty onSilly Rufus. He has been there but a few days, and--well, what have Isaid now?"
"Nothing, ma'am, nothing. But what made you think the hand you sawbelonged to Silly Rufus?"
"Because he was the last person to disappear from this lane. Thelast--what am I saying? He wasn't the last. Lucetta's lover was thelast. Mr. Gryce, could that hand have belonged to Mr. Ostrander?"
I was intensely excited; so much so that Mr. Gryce made me a warninggesture.
"Hush!" he whispered; "you are attracting attention. That hand _was_ thehand of Mr. Ostrander; and the reason why I did not accept WilliamKnollys' suggestion to search the Deacon's barn-loft was because I knewit had been chosen as a place of refuge by this missing lover ofLucetta."