The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин
in the night. It would have been better if we had taken you into our confidence.”
“Yes,” I assented, “that would have been better.” But I did not say how much better. That would have been giving away my secret.
Lucetta had now recovered sufficiently to go on with the story.
“William, who is naturally colder than we and less sensitive in regard to our mother’s good name, has shown some little impatience at the restraint imposed upon him by her presence, and this was an extra burden, Miss Butterworth, but that and all the others we have been forced to bear” (the generous girl did not speak of her own special grief and loss) “have all been rendered useless by the unhappy chance which has brought into our midst this agent of the police. Ah, if I only knew whether this was the providence of God rebuking us for years of deception, or just the malice of man seeking to rob us of our one best treasure, a mother’s untarnished name!”
“Mr. Gryce acts from no malice—” I began, but I saw they were not listening.
“Have they finished down below?” asked Lucetta.
“Does the man you call Gryce seem satisfied?” asked Loreen.
I drew myself up physically and mentally. My second task was about to begin.
“I do not understand those men,” said I. “They seem to want to look farther than the sacred spot where we left them. If they are going through a form, they are doing it very thoroughly.”
“That is their duty,” observed Loreen, but Lucetta took it less calmly.
“It is an unhappy day for us!” cried she. “Shame after shame, disgrace upon disgrace! I wish we had all died in our childhood. Loreen, I must see William. He will be doing some foolish thing, swearing or——”
“My dear, let me go to William,” I urgently put in. “He may not like me overmuch, but I will at least prove a restraint to him. You are too feeble. See, you ought to be lying on the couch instead of trying to drag yourself out to the stables.”
And indeed at that moment Lucetta’s strength gave suddenly out, and she sank into Loreen’s arms insensible.
When she was restored, I hurried away to the stables, still in pursuit of the task which I had not yet completed. I found William sitting doggedly on a stool in the open doorway, grunting out short sentences to the two men who lounged in his vicinity on either side. He was angry, but not as angry as I had seen him many times before. The men were townsfolk and listened eagerly to his broken sentences. One or two of these reached my ears.
“Let ‘em go it. It won’t be now or to-day they’ll settle this business. It’s the devil’s work, and devils are sly. My house won’t give up that secret, or any other house they’ll be likely to visit. The place I would ransack—But Loreen would say I was babbling. Goodness knows a fellow’s got to talk about something when his fellow-townsfolk come to see him.” And here his laugh broke in, harsh, cruel, and insulting. I felt it did him no good, and made haste to show myself.
Immediately his whole appearance changed. He was so astonished to see me there that for a moment he was absolutely silent; then he broke out again into another loud guffaw, but this time in a different tone.
“Why, it’s Miss Butterworth,” he laughed. “Here, Saracen! Come, pay your respects to the lady who likes you so well.”
And Saracen came, but I did not forsake my ground. I had espied in one corner just what I had hoped to see there, and Saracen’s presence afforded me the opportunity of indulging in one or two rather curious antics.
“I am not afraid of the dog,” I declared, with marked loftiness, shrinking toward the pail of water I had already marked with my eye. “Not at all afraid,” I continued, catching up the pail and putting it before me as the dog made a wild rush in my direction. “These gentlemen will not see me hurt.” And though they all laughed—they would have been fools if they had not—and the dog jumped the pail and I jumped—not a pail, but a broom-handle that was lying amid all the rest of the disorder on the floor—they did not see that I had succeeded in doing what I wished, which was to place that pail so near to William’s feet that—But wait a moment; everything in its own time. I escaped the dog, and next moment had my eye on him. He did not move after that, which rather put a stop to the laughter, which observing, I drew very near to William, and with a sly gesture to the two men, which for some reason they seemed to understand, whispered in the rude fellow’s ear:
“They’ve found your mother’s grave under the Flower Parlor. Your sisters told me to tell you. But that is not all. They’re trampling hither and yon through all the secret places in the cellar, turning up the earth with their spades. I know they won’t find anything, but we thought you ought to know——”
Here I made a feint of being startled, and ceased. My second task was done. The third only remained. Fortunately at that moment Mr. Gryce and his followers showed themselves in the garden. They had just come from the cellar and played their part in the same spirit I had mine. Though they were too far off for their words to be heard, the air of secrecy they maintained and the dubious looks they cast towards the stable, could not but evince even to William’s dull understanding that their investigations had resulted in a doubt which left them far from satisfied; but, once this impression made, they did not linger long together. The man with the lantern moved off, and Mr. Gryce turned towards us, changing his whole appearance as he advanced, till no one could look more cheerful and good-humored.
“Well, that is over,” he sighed, with a forced air of infinite relief. “Mere form, Mr. Knollys—mere form. We have to go through these pretended investigations at times, and good people like yourself have to submit; but I assure you it is not pleasant, and under the present circumstances—I am sure you understand me, Mr. Knollys—the task has occasioned me a feeling almost of remorse; but that is inseparable from a detective’s life. He is obliged every day of his life to ride over the tenderest emotions. Forgive me! And now, boys, scatter till I call you together again. I hope our next search will be without such sorrowful accompaniments.”
It succeeded. William stared at him and stared at the men slowly filing off down the yard, but was not for a moment deceived by these overflowing expressions. On the contrary, he looked more concerned than he had while seated between the two men manifestly set to guard him.
“The deuce!” he cried, with a shrug of his shoulders that expressed anything but satisfaction. “Lucetta always said—” But even he knew enough not to finish that sentence, low as he had mumbled it. Watching him and watching Mr. Gryce, who at that moment turned to follow his men, I thought the time had come for action. Making another spring as if in fresh terror of Saracen, who, by the way, was eying me with the meekness of a lamb, I tipped over that pail with such suddenness and with such dexterity that its whole contents poured in one flood over William’s feet. My third task was accomplished.
The oath he uttered and the excuses which I volubly poured forth could not have reached Mr. Gryce’s ears, for he did not return. And yet from the way his shoulders shook as he disappeared around the corner of the house, I judge that he was not entirely ignorant of the subterfuge by which I hoped to force this blundering booby of ours to change the boots he wore for one of the pairs into which I had driven those little tacks.
Chapter XXXII.
Relief
The plan succeeded. Mr. Gryce’s plans usually do. William went immediately to his room, and in a little while came down and hastened into the cellar.
“I want to see what mischief they have done,” said he.
When he came back, his face was beaming.
“All right,” he shouted to his sisters, who had come into the hall to meet him. “Your secret’s out, but mine——”
“There,