The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин
at finding me enjoying nature at this early hour that any words from me would have been quite superfluous. He did not dismount—that would have shown intention—but he stopped, and—well, we have both passed the age of romance, and what he said cannot be of interest to the general public, especially as it did not deal with the disappearances or with the discoveries made in the Knollys house the day before, or with any of those questions which have absorbed our attention up to this time.
That we were engaged more than five minutes in this conversation I cannot believe. I have always been extremely accurate in regard to time, yet a good half-hour was lost by me that morning for which I have never been able to account. Perhaps it was spent in the short discussion which terminated our interview; a discussion which may be of interest to you, for it was upon the action of the police.
“Nothing came of the investigations made by Mr. Gryce yesterday, I perceive,” Mr. Trohm had remarked, with some reluctance, as he gathered up his reins to depart. “Well, that is not strange. How could he have hoped to find any clue to such a mystery as he is engaged to unearth, in a house presided over by Miss Knollys?”
“How could he, indeed! Yet,” I added, determined to allay this man’s suspicions, which, notwithstanding the openness of his remark, were still observable in his tones, “you say that with an air I should hardly expect from so good a neighbor and friend. Why is this, Mr. Trohm? Surely you do not associate crime with the Misses Knollys?”
“Crime? Oh, no, certainly not. No one could associate crime with the Misses Knollys. If my tone was at fault, it was due perhaps to my embarrassment—this meeting, your kindness, the beauty of the day, and the feeling these all call forth. Well, I may be pardoned if my tones are not quite true in discussing other topics. My thoughts were with the one I addressed.”
“Then that tone of doubt was all the more misplaced,” I retorted. “I am so frank, I cannot bear innuendo in others. Besides, Mr. Trohm, the worst folly of this home was laid bare yesterday in a way to set at rest all darker suspicions. You knew that William indulged in vivisection. Well, that is bad, but it cannot be called criminal. Let us do him justice, then, and, for his sisters’ sake, see how we can re-establish him in the good graces of the community.”
But Mr. Trohm, who for all our short acquaintance was not without a very decided appreciation for certain points in my character, shook his head and with a smiling air returned:
“You are asking the impossible not only of the community, but yourself. William can never re-establish himself. He is of too rude a make. The girls may recover the esteem they seem to have lost, but William—Why, if the cause of those disappearances was found to-day, and found at the remotest end of this road or even up in the mountains, where no one seems to have looked for it, William would still be known throughout the county as a rough and cruel man. I have tried to stand his friend, but it’s been against odds, Miss Butterworth. Even his sisters recognize this, and show their lack of confidence in our friendship. But I would like to oblige you.”
I knew he ought to go. I knew that if he had simply lingered the five minutes which common courtesy allowed, that curious eyes would be looking from Loreen’s window, and that at any minute I might expect some interference from Lucetta, who had read through this man’s forbearance toward William the very natural distrust he could not but feel toward so uncertain a character. Yet with such an opportunity at my command, how could I let him go without another question?
“Mr. Trohm,” said I, “you have the kindest heart and the closest lips, but have you ever thought that Deacon Spear——”
He stopped me with a really horrified look. “Deacon Spear’s house was thoroughly examined yesterday,” said he, “as mine will be to-day. Don’t insinuate anything against him! Leave that for foolish William.” Then with the most charming return to his old manner, for I felt myself in a measure rebuked, he lifted his hat and urged his horse forward. But, having withdrawn himself a step or two, he paused and with the slightest gesture toward the little hut he was facing, added in a much lower tone than any he had yet used: “Besides, Deacon Spear is much too far away from Mother Jane’s cottage. Don’t you remember that I told you she never could be got to go more than forty rods from her own doorstep?” And, breaking into a quick canter, he rode away.
I was left to think over his words and the impossibility of my picking up any other clue than that given me by Mr. Gryce.
I was turning toward the house when I heard a slight noise at my feet. Looking down, I encountered the eyes of Saracen. He was crouching at my side, and as I turned toward him, his tail actually wagged. It was a sight to call the color up to my cheek; not that I blushed at this sign of good-will, astonishing as it was, considering my feeling toward dogs, but at his being there at all without my knowing it. So palpable a proof that no woman—I make no exceptions—can listen more than one minute to the expressions of a man’s sincere admiration without losing a little of her watchfulness, was not to be disregarded by one as inexorable to her own mistakes as to those of others. I saw myself the victim of vanity, and while somewhat abashed by the discovery, I could not but realize that this solitary proof of feminine weakness was not really to be deplored in one who has not yet passed the line beyond which any such display is ridiculous.
Lucetta met me at the door just as I had expected her to. Giving me a short look, she spoke eagerly but with a latent anxiety, for which I was more or less prepared.
“I am glad to see you looking so bright this morning,” she declared. “We are all feeling better now that the incubus of secrecy is removed. But”—here she hesitated—“I would not like to think you told Mr. Trohm what happened to us yesterday.”
“Lucetta,” said I, “there may be women of my age who delight in gossiping about family affairs with comparative strangers, but I am not that kind of woman. Mr. Trohm, friendly as he has proved himself and worthy as he undoubtedly is of your confidence and trust, will have to learn from some other person than myself anything which you may wish to have withheld from him.”
For reply she gave me an impulsive kiss. “I thought I could trust you,” she cried. Then, with a dubious look, half daring, half shrinking, she added:
“When you come to know and like us better, you will not care so much to talk to neighbors. They never can understand us or do us justice, Mr. Trohm, especially.”
This was a remark I could not let pass.
“Why?” I demanded. “Why do you think Mr. Trohm cherishes such animosity towards you? Has he ever——”
But Lucetta could exercise a repellent dignity when she chose. I did not finish my sentence, though I must have looked the inquiry I thought better not to put into words.
“Mr. Trohm is a man of blameless reputation,” she avowed. “If he has allowed himself to cherish suspicions in our regard, he has doubtless had his reasons for it.”
And with these quiet words she left me to my thoughts, and I must say to my doubts, which were all the more painful that I saw no immediate opportunity for clearing them up.
Late in the afternoon William burst in with news from the other end of the lane.
“Such a lark!” he cried. “The investigation at Deacon Spear’s house was a mere farce, and I just made them repeat it with a few frills. They had dug up my cellar, and I was determined they should dig up his. Oh, the fun it was! The old fellow kicked, but I had my way. They couldn’t refuse me, you know; I hadn’t refused them. So that man’s cellar-bottom has had a stir up. They didn’t find anything, but it did me a lot of good, and that’s something. I do hate Deacon Spear—couldn’t hate him worse if he’d killed and buried ten men under his hearthstone.”
“There is no harm in Deacon Spear,” said Lucetta, quickly.
“Did they submit Mr. Trohm’s house to a search also?” asked Loreen, ashamed of William’s heat and anxious to avert any further display of it.
“Yes, they went through that too. I was with them. Glad I was too. I say, girls, I could have laughed to see all