Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth

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Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 40

by Anna Katharine Green


  XXXIX

  UNDER A CRIMSON SKY

  When, in the course of events, the current of my thoughts receive adecided check and I find myself forced to change former conclusions orhabituate myself to new ideas and a fresh standpoint, I do it, as I doeverything else, with determination and a total disregard of my ownprevious predilections. Before the afternoon was well over I was readyfor any revelations which might follow Lucetta's contemplated action,merely reserving a vague hope that my judgment would yet be foundsuperior to her instinct.

  At five o'clock the diggers began to go home. Nothing had been foundunder the soil of Mother Jane's garden, and the excitement of searchwhich had animated them early in the day had given place to a dullresentment mainly directed towards the Knollys family, if one couldjudge of these men's feelings by the heavy scowls and significantgestures with which they passed our broken-down gateway.

  By six the last man had filed by, leaving Mr. Gryce free for the workwhich lay before him.

  I had retired long before this to my room, where I awaited the hour setby Lucetta with a feverish impatience quite new to me. As none of uscould eat, the supper table had not been laid, and though I had no meansof knowing what was in store for us, the sombre silence and oppressionunder which the whole house lay seemed a portent that was by no meansencouraging.

  Suddenly I heard a knock at my door. Rising hastily, I opened it. Loreenstood before me, with parted lips and terror in all her looks.

  "Come!" she cried. "Come and see what I have found in Lucetta's room."

  "Then she's gone?" I cried.

  "Yes, she's gone, but come and see what she has left behind her."

  Hastening after Loreen, who was by this time half-way down the hall, Isoon found myself on the threshold of the room I knew to be Lucetta's.

  "She made me promise," cried Loreen, halting to look back at me, "that Iwould let her go alone, and that I would not enter the highway till anhour after her departure. But with these evidences of the extent of herdread before us, how can we stay in this house?" And dragging me to atable, she showed me lying on its top a folded paper and two letters.The folded paper was Lucetta's Will, and the letters were directedseverally to Loreen and to myself with the injunction that they were notto be read till she had been gone six hours.

  "She has prepared herself for death!" I exclaimed, shocked to my heart'score, but determinedly hiding it. "But you need not fear any such event.Is she not accompanied by Mr. Gryce?"

  "I do not know; I do not think so. How could she accomplish her task ifnot alone? Miss Butterworth, Miss Butterworth, she has gone to brave Mr.Trohm, our mother's persecutor and our life-long enemy, thinking,hoping, believing that in so doing she will rouse his criminalinstincts, if he has them, and so lead to the discovery of his crimesand the means by which he has been enabled to carry them out so longundetected. It is noble, it is heroic, it is martyr-like, but--oh! MissButterworth, I have never broken a promise to any one before in all mylife, but I am going to break the one I made her. Come, let us fly afterher! She has her lover's memory, but I have nothing in all the world buther."

  I immediately turned and hastened down the stairs in a state ofhumiliation which should have made ample amends for any show ofarrogance I may have indulged in in my more fortunate moments.

  Loreen followed me, and when we were in the lower hall she gave me alook and said:

  "My promise was not to enter the highway. Would you be afraid to followme by another road--a secret road--all overgrown with thistles andblackberry bushes which have not been trimmed up for years?"

  I thought of my thin shoes, my neat silk dress, but only to forget themthe next moment.

  "I will go anywhere," said I.

  But Loreen was already too far in advance of me to answer. She was youngand lithe, and had reached the kitchen before I had passed the FlowerParlor. But when we had sped clear of the house I found that my progressbade fair to be as rapid as hers, for her agitation was a hindrance toher, while excitement always brings out my powers and heightens both mywits and my judgment.

  Our way lay past the stables, from which I expected every minute to seetwo or three dogs jump. But William, who had been discreetly sent out ofthe way early in the afternoon, had taken Saracen with him, and possiblythe rest, so our passing by disturbed nothing, not even ourselves. Thenext moment we were in a field of prickers, through which we bothstruggled till we came into a sort of swamp. Here was bad going, but wefloundered on, edging continually toward a distant fence beyond whichrose the symmetrical lines of an orchard--Mr. Trohm's orchard, in whichthose pleasant fruits grew which--Bah! should I ever be able to get thetaste of them out of my mouth!

  At a tiny gateway covered with vines, Loreen stopped.

  "I do not believe this has been opened for years, but it must be openednow." And, throwing her whole weight against it, she burst it through,and bidding me pass, hastened after me over the trailing branches andmade, without a word, for the winding path we now saw clearly defined onthe edge of the orchard before us.

  "Oh!" exclaimed Loreen, stopping one moment to catch her breath, "I donot know what I fear or to what our steps will bring us. I only knowthat I must hunt for Lucetta till I find her. If there is danger whereshe is, I must share it. You can rest here or come farther on."

  I went farther on.

  Suddenly we both started; a man had sprung up from behind the hedgerowthat ran parallel with the fence that surrounded Mr. Trohm's place.

  "Silence!" he whispered, putting his finger on his lips. "If you arelooking for Miss Knollys," he added, seeing us both pause aghast, "sheis on the lawn beyond, talking to Mr. Trohm. If you will step here, youcan see her. She is in no kind of danger, but if she were, Mr. Gryce isin the first row of trees to the back there, and a call from me----"

  That made me remember my whistle. It was still round my neck, but myhand, which had instinctively gone to it, fell again in extraordinaryemotion as I realized the situation and compared it with that of themorning when, blinded by egotism and foolish prejudice in favor of thisman, I ate of his fruit and hearkened to his outrageous addresses.

  "Come!" beckoned Loreen, happily too absorbed in her own emotions tonotice mine. "Let us get nearer. If Mr. Trohm is the wicked man we fear,there is no telling what the means are which he uses to get rid of hisvictims. There was nothing to be found in his house, but who knows wherethe danger may lurk, and that it may not be near her now? It wasevidently to dare it she came, to offer herself as a martyr, that wemight know----"

  "Hush!" I whispered, controlling my own fears roused against my will bythis display of terror in this usually calmest of natures. "No dangercan menace her where they stand, unless he is a common assassin andcarries a pistol----"

  "No pistol," murmured the man, who had crept again near us. "Pistolsmake a noise. He will not use a pistol."

  "Good God!" I whispered. "_You_ do not share her sister's fears that itis in the heart of this man to kill Lucetta?"

  "Five strong men have disappeared hereabout," said the fellow, nevermoving his eye from the couple before us. "Why not one weak girl?"

  With a cry Loreen started forward. "Run!" she whispered. "Run!"

  But as this word left her lips, a slight movement took place in the beltof trees where we had been told Mr. Gryce lay in hiding, and we couldsee him issue for a moment into sight with his finger like that of hisman laid warningly on his lips. Loreen trembled and drew back, seeingwhich, the man beside us pointed to the hedge and whispered softly:

  "There is just room between it and the fence for a person to passsideways. If you and this lady want to get nearer to Miss Knollys, youmight take that road. But Mr. Gryce will expect you to be very quiet.The young lady expressly said, before she came into this place, that shecould do nothing if for any reason Mr. Trohm should suspect they werenot alone."

  "We will be quiet," I assured him, anxious to hide my face, which I felttwitch at every mention of Mr. Trohm's name. Loreen was already behindthe hedge.


  The evening was one of those which are made for peace. The sun, whichhad set in crimson, had left a glow on the branches of the forest whichhad not yet faded into the gray of twilight. The lawn, around which wewere skirting, had not lost the mellow brilliancy which made it sparkle,nor had the cluster of varied-hued hollyhocks which set theirgorgeousness against the neat yellow of the peaceful doorposts, shownany dimness in their glory, which was on a par with that of the settingsun. But though I saw all this, it no longer appeared to me desirable.Lucetta and Lucetta's fate, the mystery and the impossibility of itsbeing explained out here in the midst of turf and blossoms, filled allmy thoughts, and made me forget my own secret cause for shame andhumiliation.

  Loreen, who had wormed her way along till she crouched nearly oppositeto the place where her sister stood, plucked me by the gown as Iapproached her, and, pointing to the hedge, which pressed up so close itnearly touched our faces, seemed to bid me look through. Searching for aspot where there was a small opening, I put my eye to this andimmediately drew back.

  "They are moving nearer the gate," I signalled to Loreen, at which shecrept along a few paces, but with a stealth so great that, alert as Iwas, I could not hear a twig snap. I endeavored to imitate her, but notwith as much success as I could wish. The sense of horror which had allat once settled upon me, the supernatural dread of something which Icould not see, but which I felt, had seized me for the first time andmade the ruddy sky and the broad stretch of velvet turf with the shadowsplaying over it of swaying tree-tops and clustered oleanders, morethrilling and awesome to me than the dim halls of the haunted house ofthe Knollys family in that midnight hour when I saw a body carried outfor burial amid trouble and hush and a mystery so great it would havedaunted most spirits for the remainder of their lives.

  The very sweetness of the scene made its horror. Never have I had suchsensations, never have I felt so deeply the power of the unseen, yet itseemed so impossible that anything could happen here, anything whichwould explain the total disappearance of several persons at differenttimes, without a trace of their fate being left to the eye, that I couldbut liken my state to that of nightmare, where visions take the place ofrealities and often overwhelm them.

  I had pressed too close against the hedge as I struggled with thesefeelings, and the sound I made struck me as distinct, if not alarming;but the tree-tops were rustling overhead, and, while Lucetta might haveheard the hedge-branches crack, her companion gave no evidence of doingso. We could distinguish what they were saying now, and realizing this,we stopped moving and gave our whole attention to listening. Mr. Trohmwas speaking. I could hardly believe it was his voice, it had so changedin tone, nor could I perceive in his features, distorted as they nowwere by every evil passion, the once quiet and dignified countenancewhich had so lately imposed upon me.

  "Lucetta, my little Lucetta," he was saying, "so she has come to see me,come to taunt me with the loss of her lover, whom she says I have robbedher of almost before her eyes! I rob her! How can I rob her or any oneof a man with a voice and arm of his own stronger than mine? Am I awizard to dissipate his body in vapor? Yet can you find it in my houseor on my lawn? You are a fool, Lucetta; so are all these men about herefools! It is in your house----"

  "Hush!" she cried, her slight figure rising till we forgot it was thefeeble Lucetta we were gazing at. "No more accusations directed againstus. It is you who must expect them now. Mr. Trohm, your evil practicesare discovered. To-morrow you will have the police here in earnest. Theydid but play with you when they were here before."

  "You child!" he gasped, striving, however, to restrain all evidences ofshock and terror. "Why, who was it called in the police and set themworking in Lost Man's Lane? Was it not I----"

  "Yes, that they might not suspect you, and perhaps that they mightsuspect us. But it was useless, Obadiah Trohm. Althea Knollys' childrenhave been long-suffering, but the limit of their forbearance has beenreached. When you laid your hand upon my lover, you roused a spirit inme that nothing but your own destruction can satisfy. Where is he, Mr.Trohm? and where is Silly Rufus and all the rest who have vanishedbetween Deacon Spear's house and the little home of the cripples on thehighroad? They have asked me this question, but if any one in Lost Man'sLane can answer, it is you, persecutor of my mother, and traducer ofourselves, whom I here denounce in face of these skies where God reignsand this earth where man lives to harry and condemn."

  And then I saw that the instinct of this girl had accomplished what ourunited acumen and skill had failed to do. The old man--indeed he seemedan old man now--cringed, and the wrinkles came out in his face till hewas demoniacally ugly.

  "You viper!" he shrieked. "How dare you accuse me of crime--you whosemother would have died in jail but for my forbearance? Have you everseen me set my foot upon a worm? Look at my fruit and flowers, look atmy home, without a spot or blemish to mar its neatness and propriety.Can a man who loves these things stomach the destruction of a man, muchless of a silly, yawping boy? Lucetta, you are mad!"

  "Mad or sane, my accusation will have its results, Mr. Trohm. I believetoo deeply in your guilt not to make others do so."

  "Ah," said he, "then you have not done so yet? You believe this andthat, but you have not told any one what your suspicions are?"

  "No," she calmly returned, though her face blanched to the colorlessnessof wax, "I have not said what I think of you yet."

  Oh, the cunning that crept into his face!

  "She has not said. Oh, the little Lucetta, the wise, the careful littleLucetta!"

  "But I will," she cried, meeting his eye with the courage and constancyof a martyr, "though I bring destruction upon myself. I will denounceyou and do it before the night has settled down upon us. I have a loverto avenge, a brother to defend. Besides, the earth should be rid of sucha monster as you."

  "Such a monster as I? Well, my pretty one,"--his voice grown suddenlywheedling, his face a study of mingled passions,--"we will see aboutthat. Come just a step nearer, Lucetta. I want to see if you are reallythe little girl I used to dandle on my knee."

  They were now near the gateway. They had been moving all this time. Hishand was on the curb of the old well. His face, so turned that it caughtthe full glare of the setting sun, leaned toward the girl, exerting afascinating influence upon her. She took the step he asked, and beforewe could shriek out "Beware!" we saw him bend forward with a suddenquick motion and then start upright again, while her form, which but aninstant before had stood there in all its frail and inspired beauty,tottered as if the ground were bending under it, and in another momentdisappeared from our appalled sight, swallowed in some dreadful cavernthat for an instant yawned in the smoothly cut lawn before us, and thenvanished again from sight as if it had never been.

  A shriek from my whistle mingled with a simultaneous cry of agony fromLoreen. We heard Mr. Gryce rush from behind us, but we ourselves foundit impossible to stir, paralyzed as we were by the sight of the oldman's demoniacal delight. He was leaping to and fro over the turf,holding up his fingers in the red sunset glare.

  "Six!" he shrieked. "Six! and room for two more! Oh, it's a merry life Ilead! Flowers and fruit and love-making" (oh, how I cringed at that!),"and now and then a little spice like this! But where is my prettyLucetta? Surely she was here a moment ago. How could she have vanished,then, so quickly? I do not see her form amid the trees, there is notrace of her presence upon the lawn, and if they search the house fromtop to bottom and from bottom to top they will find nothing of her--no,not so much as a print of her footstep or the scent of the violets sheso often wears tucked into her hair."

  These last words, uttered in a different voice from the rest, gave theclue to the whole situation. We saw, even while we all bounded forwardto the rescue of the devoted maiden, that he was one of those maniacswho have perfect control over themselves and pass for very decent sortof men except in the moment of triumph; and, noting his look of sinisterdelight, perceived that half his pleasure and almost his sole reward forthe horrible
crimes he had perpetrated, was in the mystery surroundinghis victims and the entire immunity from suspicion which up to this timehe had enjoyed.

  Meantime Mr. Gryce had covered the wretch with his pistol, and his man,who succeeded in reaching the place even sooner than ourselves, hamperedas we were by the almost impenetrable hedge behind which we hadcrouched, tried to lift the grass-covered lid we could faintly discernthere. But this was impossible until I, with almost superhumanself-possession, considering the imperative nature of the emergency,found the spring hidden in the well-curb which worked the deadlymechanism. A yell from the writhing creature cowering under thedetective's pistol guided me unconsciously in its action, and in anothermoment we saw the fatal lid tip and disclose what appeared to be theremains of a second well, long ago dried up and abandoned for the other.

  The rescue of Lucetta followed. As she had fainted in falling she hadnot suffered much, and soon we had the supreme delight of seeing hereyes unclose.

  "Ah," she murmured, in a voice whose echo pierced to every heart savethat of the guilty wretch now lying handcuffed on the sward, "I thoughtI saw Albert! He was not dead, and I----"

  But here Mr. Gryce, with an air at once contrite and yet strangelytriumphant, interposed his benevolent face between hers and her weepingsister's and whispered something in her ear which turned her pallidcheek to a glowing scarlet. Rising up, she threw her arms around hisneck and let him lift her. As he carried her--where was his rheumatismnow?--out of those baleful grounds and away from the reach of themaniac's mingled laughs and cries, her face was peace itself. Buthis--well, his was a study.

 

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