Mr. Marx's Secret

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXII. FOR LIFE.

  My mother's death marked an epoch in my life, for immediately afterwardsa great change came over my circumstances and position. Of the drearydays just before and after the funeral I shall here say but little. Theirsadness is for me and me alone.

  Until after the ceremony I remained at the monastery, seeking relief frommy thoughts by rambles over the hills, by watches at dead of night beforethe spot where, with many candles burning round her open coffin, mymother lay, and by long conversations with Father Alexander, mycomforter. When the time of the funeral came, Mr. Ravenor stood by myside, the only other mourner, and I knew that the banks of choice whiteflowers, which smothered the coffin and perfumed the winter air, were hisgift.

  After it was all over he came to me where I stood, a little apart, andput his hand upon my shoulder.

  "Philip, my boy," he said kindly, "will you come back to the Castle withme? I am your guardian now, you know."

  I drew a long breath.

  "Let me go back to the farm for a week by myself," I said; "then I willcome to you. Be ready to go to Dr. Randall's."

  "Let it be so, then," he answered. "Perhaps it is best."

  I said good-bye to the monks, especially to Father Alexander, withregret, for they had all been very good to me. Then I accompanied Mr.Ravenor to his carriage and was driven swiftly homewards.

  The week that followed I spent in solitude, and as the days passed by thebitterness of my grief left me. Not that the memory of my mother grewless dear--rather the reverse; but I began to recognise that what hadhappened was best. Better that she should have died thus, full ofthoughts of holy things and with a conscience at rest, than that sheshould still be bearing with aching heart a burden which she had neverdeserved.

  On the last day of the week I was told that a visitor had arrived andwished to see me, and before I could ask his name he had entered theroom. It was Mr. Marx.

  The man was surely an admirable actor. Instinct told me that he cared nota jot for either my mother or me; but his few words of sympathy wereexcellently chosen and gracefully spoken. Then he at once changed thesubject and talked pleasantly of other things; and as he went on Isuddenly remembered that I had not seen him since the night of our drivehome from Torchester, and that, therefore, he could know nothing of theadventure which had befallen me after his departure. I took advantage,therefore, of a pause in the conversation to tell him all about it; and,impassive though his face was, I could see that it made a greatimpression.

  "Do you remember what the man was like?" he asked, knitting his brows."Can you describe him?"

  I did so as well as I could and in the midst of my narration, making sometrivial excuse, he moved his chair out of the light into the shadows ofthe room. But if he wished to escape my scrutiny he was a little toolate, for I had already noticed his blanched face and trembling hands.Evidently there was something more in this midnight attack than I hadthought. Who was the lunatic? I wondered. I felt sure, looking at himclosely, that Mr. Marx knew. No need now for Mr. Ravenor to warn meagainst the companionship of this man. Already my passive dislike hadgrown into an active aversion.

  Instinctively I felt that he was both unscrupulous and untrustworthy. Ifelt that he was seeking me for ends of his own, and all the time I washalf afraid of him.

  Doubtless my manner showed that he was no welcome visitor, but still helingered. At last my housekeeper brought me in my afternoon cup of teaand I was compelled to ask him to join me. He did so, drank itthoughtfully, and immediately afterwards rose to go.

  "I have been wondering what can have become of this poor lunatic," hesaid carelessly. "Scarcely a pleasant person to meet on a dark evening."

  I shrugged my shoulders as I walked out into the hall with him.

  "It is nearly a fortnight ago," I remarked; "he can hardly have remainedin the neighbourhood and in hiding all this time."

  "Still, if he had been captured we should have heard of it," Mr. Marxobjected.

  "Probably. And yet I don't see why. I should not, at any rate, as I havebeen away at the monastery; and you, I don't know how you would haveheard of it, unless you read the local papers."

  "A weakness of which I am not guilty," he answered drily. "Nor have Ibeen outside the grounds. We have been hard at work."

  "Did you walk here?" I asked.

  He shook his head.

  "I came down in a trap from the Castle, but the man was going toMellborough and I told him not to wait for me. You won't walk across thepark with me, I suppose, just to get an appetite for dinner? It's asplendid evening."

  I looked at him furtively, but closely. Yes, Mr. Marx was a coward, inaddition to his other slight demerits.

  "No, thanks," I answered shortly. "I've had a long walk already today.Good evening!"

  I turned back into the sitting-room, but before I had reached myeasy-chair I began to think that I was scarcely behaving well. After all,Mr. Marx was a middle-aged man, and it was possible that his strengthmight have been sapped by the brain labour in which he was constantlyengaged and his sedentary life.

  Supposing he were to encounter this lunatic and suffer at his hands,perhaps even lose his life, should I not blame myself? I came to a speedydecision. I would let him have his fright, but I would follow him at alittle distance and see that he came to no harm.

  I took a short, heavy stick from the rack and, crossing the stackyard,vaulted over the palings into the park, purposely avoiding the gate.About a hundred yards in front Mr. Marx was walking quickly along, withboth hands in his ulster pockets, and looking frequently around him. Menhad been busy in the park on the previous day cutting the bracken, andalong the side of the road were many stacks of it waiting to be cartedaway. I noticed that whenever Mr. Marx drew near one of these he gave ita wide berth and I smiled to myself at this evidence of his anxiety.

  I was walking on the turf, that he might not hear my footsteps, and wasable to keep him easily in sight, for it was a clear, frosty evening, andthe full moon was shining in a cloudless sky. At a sudden bend in theroad he came in sight of a place where stacks of bracken had been left oneither side opposite to each other. I saw him pause as though hesitatingwhich he should avoid, and at the same moment I distinctly saw some darkbody crouched down behind one of them and swaying slightly backwards andforwards.

  I broke at once into a run, but before the echoes of my warning shout haddied away a figure sprang like a wild cat at Mr. Marx's throat. There wasa flash and a sharp report, but from the direction of the former I couldsee that the revolver had been knocked up into the air and explodedharmlessly.

  When at last I reached the assailant and his victim it was a fearfulsight I looked upon. The face of the lunatic was ghastly and his wildeyes almost started from their sockets in his rage.

  White and emaciated as a skeleton's, his face was still capable ofexpression--and such an expression. A frenzied desire to kill seemed tobe his sole aim, and his long, skinny fingers clutched Mr. Marx's throatas in a vice. The latter's eyeballs were protruding from his head and hisbreath was coming in short, agonised pants; yet all the while Mr. Marxwas holding the madman in such a fierce grip that I could hear his ribssnapping like whalebone.

  My arrival saved Mr. Marx from a speedy death by strangulation. Though Ilifted the lunatic up in my arms and strained every muscle to pull himaway, his fingers never relaxed till I stopped his breath and renderedhim momentarily unconscious.

  I waited for Mr. Marx to come to himself, my foot resting lightly uponthe prostrate body of his assailant. Soon he rose slowly to his feet andbegan groping about in the road.

  "What do you want?" I asked. "Lost anything?"

  "My revolver."

  I pointed to where it lay gleaming in the moonlight. He picked it up andset it to an undischarged barrel. I watched him curiously.

  "You won't want that again," I remarked. "What are you going to do withit?"

  "I am going to put that beast ou
t of his misery," he answered. "Stand outof the way!"

  "Nonsense! You will do nothing of the sort!" I cried hotly. "What! killan insensible man? He has as much right to live as you. You shall notcommit murder in my presence: and, least of all, shall you kill a poorinsane creature like this. Put that thing up!"

  An awful look flashed into his face, and, as he suddenly raised his arm,I looked into the dark muzzle of his revolver.

  With a quick spring I wrenched the revolver from his hand, and, bendingbackwards, threw it far away into the bracken.

  "I don't know what you were going to do, Mr. Marx," I said, looking athim steadily, "but it seems to me that you are not a fit person to betrusted with firearms."

  He stood still, speechless with rage. I turned my back upon him andfound, to my surprise, that the man whose life Mr. Marx had so muchdesired was lying on his side, looking at me with wide-open eyes.

  "Well, have your own way," Mr. Marx said, quietly; "I dare say you areright. There was no need to be violent, or to throw away my favouriterevolver. What do you propose to do with him?"

  Mr. Marx advanced, but at the sight of him the lunatic, who was leaningheavily upon my arm, and groaning with pain, shrank down upon the ground,cowering at my feet like a dog. He covered his face with his hands andbroke into one of the most pitiful cries of distress that I have everheard from human lips. I motioned Mr. Marx back.

  "I can manage him alone, I think; and the sight of you upsets him. Willyou follow us down?"

  Mr. Marx advanced a step or two, his eyes flashing with anger. Thensuddenly he turned his back upon us, and, without a word, walked rapidlyaway. I raised my prisoner, and half carried, half dragged him back tothe farm.

  In a few hours the doctor from Rothland had arrived and speedily set thebroken bones. He seemed much interested in the case and made a carefulexamination.

  "Do you think he has been a lunatic long?" I asked.

  The doctor shook his head.

  "On the contrary," he replied, "I should say his madness has come onquite recently--the effect of some severe shock probably. If he istreated properly there is no doubt that he will regain his reason."

  In a few days the lunatic was pronounced well enough in health to bemoved; and as all inquiries and advertisements about him provedfruitless, he was consigned to the county asylum at Torchester.