ISABEL OSTRANDER: Mystery & Western Classics: One Thirty, The Crevice, Anything Once, The Fifth Ace & Island of Intrigue. Isabel Ostrander
“Of course he did, darling. No one who knew him could imagine otherwise for a moment.” He hesitated, and then added, “No one else discovered this man’s presence in the house that night? You have told no one? Not the doctor, or the coroner, or Dr. Franklin?”
“Oh, no; if I had it would have been necessary for me to have told what I overheard. Besides, it could have had no direct bearing on daddy’s death; that was caused by heart-disease, as you say. But I believe, and I always will believe, that that man killed father, as surely, as inevitably, as if he had stabbed or shot or poisoned him! Why did he come like a thief in the night? Father’s integrity, his honor, were known to all the world. Why did that reference to this Herbert and his wife cause him such pain?”
“I don’t know, dear; I have no more idea than you. If you really, really overheard that conversation, as you seem convinced you did, you did well in keeping it to yourself. Let that hour remain buried in your thoughts, as in your father’s grave. Only rest assured that whatever it is, it casts no stain upon your father’s good name or his memory.” He rose and gathered her into his arms. “I must go now, Anita; I’ll come again to-morrow. You are quite sure that you will not accept my mother’s invitation? I really think it would be better for you.”
She looked deeply into his eyes, then drew herself gently from his clasp. “Not yet. Thank her for me, Ramon, with all my heart, but I will not leave my father’s house just yet, even for a few days. I am sure that I shall be happier here.” He kissed her, and left the room. She stood where he had left her until she heard the heavy thud of the front door. Then, turning to the window, she thrust her slim little hand between the sedately drawn curtains, and waved him a tender good-by; then with a little sigh, she dropped among the pillows of the couch, lost in thought.
“Whatever was meant by that conversation which I overheard,” she murmured to herself, “Ramon knows. I read it in his eyes.”
The young man, as he made his way down the crowded avenue, was turning over in his mind the extraordinary story which the girl he loved had told him.
“What could it mean? Who could the man have been? Surely not Herbert himself, and yet—oh! why will they not let sleeping dogs lie; why must that old scandal, that one stain on Pennington Lawton’s past have been brought again to light, and at such a time? I pray God that Anita never mentions it to anyone else, never learns the truth. By Jove, if any complications arise from this, there will be only one thing for me to do. I must call upon the Master Mind.”
Chapter II
Revelations
For two days Anita wandered wraithlike about the great darkened house. The thought that Ramon was keeping something from her—that he and her dead father together had kept a secret which, for some reason, must not be revealed to her, weighed upon her spirits. Conjectures as to the unknown intruder on the night of her father’s death, and his possible purpose, flooded her mind to the exclusion of all else.
In the dusk of the winter afternoon she was lying on the couch in her dressing-room, lost in thought, when Ellen, tapping lightly at the door, interrupted her reverie.
“The minister, Miss Anita—the Rev. Dr. Franklin—he is in the drawing-room.”
“Oh!” Anita gave a little movement of dismay. “Tell him that I am suffering from a very severe headache, and gave orders that I was not to be disturbed by anyone. He means well, Ellen, of course, but he always depresses me horribly, lately. I don’t feel like talking to him this afternoon.”
The maid retired, but returned again almost immediately with a surprised, half-frightened expression on her usually stolid face.
“Please, Miss Anita, Dr. Franklin says he must see you and at once. He seems to be excited and he won’t take no for an answer.”
“Ramon!” Anita cried, springing from the couch with swift apprehension. “Something has happened to Ramon, and Dr. Franklin has come to tell me. He may be injured, dead! Ah, God would not do that; He would not take him from me, too!”
“Don’t take on so, Miss Anita, dear,” the faithful Ellen murmured, as she deftly smoothed the girl’s hair and rearranged her gown; “the little man acts more as if he had a fine piece of gossip to pass on—fidgeting about like an old woman, he is. Begging your pardon, Miss, I know he is the minister, of course, and I ought to show him more respect, but he forever reminds me of a fat black pigeon.”
The remarks of the privileged old servant fell upon deaf, unheeding ears. Anita, sobbing softly beneath her breath, flew down to the drawing-room, where the pompous black-cloaked figure rose at her entrance. But—was it purely Anita’s fancy or had some indefinable change actually taken place in the manner of her spiritual adviser? The rather close-set eyes seemed to the girl to gleam somewhat coldly upon her, and although he took both her hands in his in quick, fatherly greeting, his hand-clasp appeared all at once to be lacking in warmth.
“My poor child, my poor Anita!” he began unctuously, but she interrupted him.
“What is it, Dr. Franklin? Has something happened to Ramon?” she asked swiftly. “Please tell me! Now, without delay! Don’t keep me in suspense. I can tell by your face, your manner, that a new misfortune has come to me! Does it concern Ramon?”
“Oh, no; it is not Mr. Hamilton. You need have no fears for him, Anita. I have come upon a business matter—a matter connected with your dear father’s estate.”
Anita motioned him to a chair. Seating herself opposite, she gazed at him inquiringly.
“The settlement of the estate? Oh, the lawyers are attending to that, I believe.” Anita spoke a little coldly. Had Dr. Franklin come already to inquire about a possible legacy for St. James’?
She was ashamed of the thought the next moment, when he said gently, “Yes, but there is something which I must tell you. It has been requested that I do so. It is a delicate matter to discuss with you, but surely no one is more fitted to speak to you than I.”
“Certainly, Doctor, I understand.” She leaned forward eagerly.
“My dear, you know the whole country, the whole world at large, has always considered your father to have been a man of great wealth.”
“Yes. My father’s charities alone, as you are aware, unostentatiously as they were conducted, would have tended to give that impression. Then his tremendous business interests—”
“Anita, at the moment of your father’s death he was far from being the King of Finance, which the world judged him to be. It is hard for me to tell you this, but you must know, and you must try to believe that your Heavenly Father is sending you this added trial for some sure purpose of His own. Your father died a poor man, Anita. In fact, a bankrupt.” The girl looked up with an incredulous smile.
“Dr. Franklin, who could ever have asked you to come to me with such an incredible assertion? Surely, you must know how preposterous the very idea is! I do not boast or brag, but it is common knowledge that my father was the richest man in the city, in this entire part of the country, in fact. The thought of such a thing is absurd. Who could have attempted to perpetrate such a senseless hoax, a ridiculous insult to your intelligence and mine?”
The minister shook his head slowly.
“‘Common knowledge’ is, alas, not always trustworthy. It is only too true that your father stood on the verge of bankruptcy. His entire fortune has been swept away.”
“Impossible!”
Anita started from her chair, impressed in spite of herself. “How could that be? Who has told you this terrible thing?”
“The unfortunate news was disclosed to me confidentially by your late father’s truest friends and closest associates. Having