Gabriel Conroy

by Bret Harte

  CHAPTER III.

  IN WHICH MR. DUMPHY TAKES POINSETT INTO HIS CONFIDENCE.

  The cool weather of the morning following Mr. Dumphy's momentousinterview with Colonel Starbottle, contributed somewhat to restore theformer gentleman's tranquillity, which had been considerably disturbed.He had, moreover, a vague recollection of having invited ColonelStarbottle to visit him socially, and a nervous dread of meeting thisman, whose audacity was equal to his own, in the company of others.Braced, however, by the tonic of the clear exhilarating air, andsustained by the presence of his clerks and the respectful homage of hisbusiness associates, he despatched a note to Arthur Poinsett requestingan interview. Punctually at the hour named that gentleman presentedhimself, and was languidly surprised when Mr. Dumphy called his clerkand gave positive orders that their interview was not to be disturbedand to refuse admittance to all other visitors. And then Mr. Dumphy, ina peremptory, practical statement which his business habits andtemperament had brought to a perfection that Arthur could not helpadmiring, presented the details of his interview with ColonelStarbottle. "Now, I want you to help me. I have sent to you for thatbusiness purpose. You understand, this is not a matter for the Bank'sregular counsel. Now what do you propose?"

  "First, let me ask you, do you believe your wife is living?"

  "No," said Dumphy, promptly, "but of course I don't know."

  "Then let me relieve your mind at once, and tell you that she is not."

  "You know this to be a fact?" asked Dumphy.

  "I do. The body supposed to be Grace Conroy's and so identified, wasyour wife's. I recognised it at once, knowing Grace Conroy to have beenabsent at the culmination of the tragedy."

  "And why did you not correct the mistake?"

  "That is _my_ business," said Arthur, haughtily, "and I believe I havebeen invited here to attend to _yours_. Your wife is dead."

  "Then," said Mr. Dumphy, rising with a brisk business air, "if you arewilling to testify to that fact, I reckon there is nothing more to bedone."

  Arthur did not rise, but sat watching Mr. Dumphy with an unmoved face.After a moment Mr. Dumphy sat down again, and looked aggressively butnervously at Arthur. "Well," he said, at last.

  "Is that all?" asked Arthur, quietly; "are you willing to go on andestablish the fact?"

  "Don't know what you mean!" said Dumphy, with an attempted franknesswhich failed signally.

  "One moment, Mr. Dumphy. You are a shrewd business man. Now do yousuppose the person--whoever he or she may be, who has sent ColonelStarbottle to you, relies alone upon your inability to legally proveyour wife's death? May they not calculate somewhat on your_indisposition_ to prove it legally; on the theory that you'd rather notopen the case, for instance?"

  Mr. Dumphy hesitated a moment and bit his lip. "Of course," he said,shortly, "there'd be some talk among my enemies about my deserting mywife"----

  "And child," suggested Arthur.

  "And child," repeated Dumphy, savagely, "and not coming backagain--there'd be suthin' in the papers about it, unless I paid 'em, butwhat's that!--deserting one's wife isn't such a new thing inCalifornia."

  "That is so," said Arthur, with a sarcasm that was none the less sincerebecause he felt its applicability to himself.

  "But we're not getting on," said Mr. Dumphy, impatiently. "What's to bedone? That's what I've sent to you for."

  "Now that we know it is not your _wife_--we must find out _who_ it isthat stands back of Colonel Starbottle. It is evidently some one whoknows, at least, as much as we do of the facts; we are lucky if theyknow no more. Can you think of any one? Who are the survivors? Let'ssee; you, myself, possibly Grace"----

  "It couldn't be Grace Conroy, really alive!" interrupted Dumphy hastily.

  "No," said Arthur, quietly, "you remember _she_ was not present at thetime."

  "Gabriel?"

  "I hardly think so. Besides, he is a friend of yours."

  "It couldn't be"--Dumphy stopped in his speech, with a certain savagealarm in his looks. Arthur noticed it--and quietly went on.

  "Who 'couldn't' it be?"

  "Nothing--nobody. I was only thinking if Gabriel or somebody could havetold the story to some designing rascal."

  "Hardly--in sufficient detail."

  "Well," said Dumphy, with his coarse bark-like laugh, "if I've got topay to see Mrs. Dumphy decently buried, I suppose I can rely upon you tosee that it's done without a chance of resurrection. Find out whoStarbottle's friend is and how much he or she expects. If I've got topay for this thing I'll do it now, and get the benefit of absolutesilence. So I'll leave it in your hands," and he again rose as ifdismissing the subject and his visitor, after his habitual businessmanner.

  "Dumphy," said Arthur, still keeping his own seat, and ignoring thesignificance of Dumphy's manner. "There are two professions that sufferfrom a want of frankness in the men who seek their services. Thoseprofessions are Medicine and the Law. I can understand why a man seeksto deceive his physician, because he is humbugging himself; but I can'tsee why he is not frank to his lawyer! You are no exception to the rule.You are now concealing from _me_, whose aid you have sought, some veryimportant reason why you wish to have this whole affair hidden beneaththe snow of Starvation Camp."

  "Don't know what you're driving at," said Dumphy. But he sat down again.

  "Well, listen to me, and perhaps I can make my meaning clearer. Myacquaintance with the late Dr. Devarges began some months before we sawyou. During our intimacy he often spoke to me of his scientificdiscoveries, in which I took some interest, and I remember seeing amonghis papers frequent records and descriptions of localities in thefoot-hills, which he thought bore the indications of great mineralwealth. At that time the Doctor's theories and speculations appeared tome to be visionary, and the records of no value. Nevertheless, when wewere shut up in Starvation Camp, and it seemed doubtful if the Doctorwould survive his discoveries, at his request I deposited his papers andspecimens in a cairn at Monument Point. After the catastrophe, on myreturn with the relief party to camp, we found that the cairn had beenopened by some one and the papers and specimens scattered on the snow.We supposed this to have been the work of Mrs. Brackett, who, in searchof food, had broken the cairn, taken out the specimens, and died fromthe effects of the poison with which they had been preserved."

  He paused and looked at Dumphy, who did not speak.

  "Now," continued Arthur, "like all Californians I have followed yourvarious successes with interest and wonder. I have noticed, with thegratification that all your friends experience, the singular goodfortune which has distinguished your mining enterprises, and the claimsyou have located. But I have been cognisant of a fact, unknown I thinkto any other of your friends, that nearly all of the localities of yoursuccessful claims, by a singular coincidence, agree with the memorandumsof Dr. Devarges!"

  Dumphy sprang to his feet with a savage, brutal laugh. "So," he shouted,coarsely, "that's the game, is it! So it seems I'm lucky in coming toyou--no trouble in finding this _woman_ now, hey? Well, go on, this isgetting interesting; let's hear the rest! What are your propositions,what if I refuse, hey?"

  "My first proposition," said Arthur, rising to his feet with a coldwicked light in his grey eyes, "is that you shall instantly take thatspeech back and beg my pardon! If you refuse, by the living God, I'llthrottle you where you stand!"

  For one wild moment all the savage animal in Dumphy rose, and heinstinctively made a step in the direction of Poinsett. Arthur did notmove. Then Mr. Dumphy's practical caution asserted itself. A physicalpersonal struggle with Arthur would bring in witnesses--witnessesperhaps of something more than that personal struggle. If he werevictorious, Arthur, unless killed outright, would revenge himself by anexposure. He sank back in his chair again. Had Arthur known the lowestimate placed upon his honour by Mr. Dumphy he would have been lesscomplacent in his victory.

  "I didn't mean to suspect _you_," said Dumphy at last, with a forcedsmile, "I hope you'll excuse me. I know you're my friend. But you'r
e allwrong about these papers; you are, Poinsett, I swear. I know if the factwere known to outsiders it would look queer if not explained. But whosebusiness is it, anyway, legally, I mean?"

  "No one's, unless Devarges has friends or heirs."

  "He hadn't any."

  "There's that wife!"

  "Bah!--she was divorced!"

  "Indeed! You told me on our last interview that she really was the widowof Devarges."

  "Never mind that now," said Dumphy, impatiently. "Look here! You know aswell as I do that no matter how many discoveries Devarges made, theyweren't worth a d--n if he hadn't done some work on them--improved oropened them."

  "But that is not the point at issue just now," said Arthur. "Nobody isgoing to contest your claim or sue you for damages. But they might tryto convict you of a crime. They might say that breaking into the cairnwas burglary, and the taking of the papers theft."

  "But how are they going to prove that?"

  "No matter. Listen to me, and don't let us drift away from the mainpoint. The question that concerns you is this. An impostor sets up aclaim to be your wife; you and I know she is an impostor, and can proveit. She knows that, but knows also that in attempting to prove it youlay yourself open to some grave charges which she doubtless stands readyto make."

  "Well, then, the first thing to do is to find out _who_ she is, what sheknows, and what she wants, eh?" said Dumphy.

  "No," said Arthur, quietly, "the first thing to do is to prove that yourwife is really dead, and to do that you must show that Grace Conroy wasalive when the body purporting to be hers, but which was really yourwife's, was discovered. Once establish _that_ fact and you destroy thecredibility of the Spanish reports, and you need not fear any revelationfrom that source regarding the missing papers. And that is the onlysource from which evidence against you can be procured. But when youdestroy the validity of that report, you of course destroy thecredibility of all concerned in making it. And as I was concerned inmaking it, of course it won't do for you to put _me_ on the stand."

  Notwithstanding Dumphy's disappointment, he could not help yielding to asudden respect for the superior rascal who thus cleverly slipped out ofresponsibility. "But," added Arthur, coolly, "you'll have no difficultyin establishing the fact of Grace's survival by others."

  Dumphy thought at once of Ramirez. Here was a man who had seen andconversed with Grace when she had, in the face of the Spanish Commander,indignantly asserted her identity and the falsity of the report. Nowitness could be more satisfactory and convincing. But to make use ofhim he must first take Arthur into his confidence; must first expose theconspiracy of Madame Devarges to personate Grace, and his own complicitywith the transaction. He hesitated. Nevertheless, he had been latelytortured by a suspicion that the late Madame Devarges was in some wayconnected with the later conspiracy against himself, and he longed toavail himself of Arthur's superior sagacity, and after a secondreflection he concluded to do it. With the same practical conciseness ofstatement that he had used in relating Colonel Starbottle's interviewwith himself, he told the story of Madame Devarges' brief personationof Grace Conroy, and its speedy and felicitous ending in Mrs. Conroy.Arthur listened with unmistakable interest and a slowly brighteningcolour. When Dumphy had concluded he sat for a moment apparently lost inthought.

  "Well?" at last said Dumphy, interrogatively and impatiently.

  Arthur started. "Well," he said, rising, and replacing his hat with theair of a man who had thoroughly exhausted his subject, "your franknesshas saved me a world of trouble."

  "How?" said Dumphy.

  "There is no necessity for looking any further for your alleged wife.She exists at present as Mrs. Conroy, _alias_ Madame Devarges, _alias_Grace Conroy. Ramirez is your witness. You couldn't have a more willingone."

  "Then my suspicions are correct."

  "I don't know on what you based them. But here is a woman who hasunlimited power over men, particularly over one man, Gabriel!--whoalone, of all men but ourselves, knows the facts regarding yourdesertion of your wife in Starvation Camp, her death, and the placing ofDr. Devarges' private papers by me in the cairn. He knows, too, of yourknowledge of the existence of the cairn, its locality, and contents. Heknows this because he was in the cabin that night when the Doctor gaveme his dying injunctions regarding his property--the night thatyou--excuse me, Dumphy, but nothing but frankness will save us now--thenight that you stood listening at the door and frightened Grace withyour wolfish face. Don't speak! she told me all about it! Your presencethere that night gained you the information that you have used soprofitably; it was your presence that fixed her wavering resolves andsent her away with me."

  Both men had become very pale and earnest. Arthur moved toward the door."I will see you to-morrow, when I will have matured some plan ofdefence," he said, abstractedly. "We have"--he used the plural ofadvocacy with a peculiar significance--"_We_ have a clever woman tofight who may be more than our match. Meantime, remember that Ramirez isour defence; he is our man, Dumphy, hold fast to him as you would toyour life. Good-day."

  In another moment he was gone. As the door closed upon him a clerkentered hastily from the outer office. "You said not to disturb you,sir, and here is an important despatch waiting for you from Wingdam."

  Mr. Dumphy took it mechanically, opened it, read the first line, andthen said hurriedly, "Run after that man, quick!--Stop! Wait a moment.You need not go! There, that will do!"

  The clerk hurriedly withdrew into the outer office. Mr. Dumphy went backto his desk again, and once more devoured the following lines:--

  "WINGDAM, 7th, 6 A.M.--Victor Ramirez murdered last night on Conroy's Hill. Gabriel Conroy arrested. Mrs. Conroy missing. Great excitement here; strong feeling against Gabriel. Wait instructions.--FITCH."

  At first Mr. Dumphy only heard as an echo beating in his brain, theparting words of Arthur Poinsett, "Ramirez is our defence; hold fast tohim as you would your life." And now he was dead--gone; their onlywitness; killed by Gabriel the plotter! What more was wanted to justifyhis worst suspicions? What should they do? He must send after Poinsettagain; the plan of defence must be changed at once; to-morrow might betoo late. Stop!

  One of his accusers in prison charged with a capital crime! Theother--the real murderer--for Dumphy made no doubt that Mrs. Conroy wasresponsible for the deed--a fugitive from justice! What need of anywitness now? The blow that crippled these three conspirators hadliberated him! For a moment Mr. Dumphy was actually conscious of aparoxysm of gratitude toward some indefinitely Supreme Being--a God ofspecial providence--special to himself! More than this, there was thatvague sentiment, common, I fear, to common humanity in such crises, thatthis Providence was a tacit endorsement of himself. It was the triumphof Virtue (Dumphy) over Vice (Conroy _et al._).

  But there would be a trial, publicity, and the possible exposure ofcertain things by a man whom danger might make reckless. And could hecount upon Mrs. Conroy's absence or neutrality? He was conscious thather feeling for her husband was stronger than he had supposed, and shemight dare everything to save him. What had a woman of that kind to dowith such weakness? Why hadn't she managed it so as to kill Gabriel too?There was an evident want of practical completeness in this specialProvidence that, as a business man, Mr. Dumphy felt he could haveregulated. And then he was seized with an idea--a damnableinspiration!--and set himself briskly to write. I regret to say thatdespite the popular belief in the dramatic character of all villany, Mr.Dumphy at this moment presented only the commonplace spectacle of anabsorbed man of business; no lurid light gleamed from his pale blueeyes; no Satanic smile played around the corners of his smoothly shavenmouth; no feverish exclamation stirred his moist, cool lips. He wrotemethodically and briskly, without deliberation or undue haste. When hehad written half-a-dozen letters he folded and sealed them, and withoutsummoning his clerk, took them himself into the outer office and thenceinto the large counting-room. The news of the murder had evidently gotabroad; the clerks were congregated together,
and the sound of eager,interested voices ceased as the great man entered and stood among them.

  "Fitch, you and Judson will take the quickest route to One Horse Gulchto-night. Don't waste any time on the road or spare any expense. Whenyou get there deliver these letters, and take your orders from mycorrespondents. Pick up all the details you can about this affair andlet me know. What's your balance at the Gulch, Mr. Peebles? never mindthe exact figures!"

  "Larger than usual, sir, some heavy deposits!"

  "Increase your balance then if there should be any d--d fools whoconnect the Bank with this matter."

  "I suppose," said Mr. Fitch, respectfully, "we're to look after yourforeman, Mr. Conroy, sir?"

  "You are to take your orders from my correspondent, Mr. Fitch, and notto interfere in any way with public sentiment. We have nothing to dowith the private acts of anybody. Justice will probably be done toConroy. It is time that these outrages upon the reputation of theCalifornia miner should be stopped. When the fame of a whole communityis prejudiced and business injured by the rowdyism of a single ruffian,"said Mr. Dumphy, raising his voice slightly as he discovered theinterested and absorbed presence of some of his most respectablecustomers, "it is time that prompt action should be taken." In fact, hewould have left behind him a strong Roman flavour and a generalsuggestion of Brutus, had he not unfortunately effected an anti-climaxby adding, "that's business, sir," as he retired to his private office.