COMING VERY NEAR.
When rumours of this grave character arise, they do not come suddenly
to a climax. Time must be given them to grow and settle down. It came
at length, however, here. Doubts ripened into convictions: suppressed
breathings widened into broad assertions: Oliver Rane had certainly
murdered his wife for the sake of the tontine money. People affirmed
it one to another as they met in the street--or rather, to avoid
compromising themselves, said that others affirmed it. Old Phillis
heard it one day, and almost fell down in a fit. She did not
altogether believe it: nevertheless from that time she could not speak
to her master without visibly trembling. The doctor thought she must
be suffering from nervous derangement. At length it penetrated to
Dallory Hall and the ears of madam; and upon madam it produced an
extraordinary effect.
It has been stated throughout that Mrs. North had conceived a violent
dislike to Dr. Rane; or at least, that she persistently acted in a
manner that produced the impression that she had done so. As if she
had only waited for this rumour to accuse him of something tangible,
madam made the cause her own. She never appeared to doubt the truth of
the report, or to inquire as to its grounds; she drove about, here,
there, and everywhere, unequivocally asserting that Bessy Rane had
been poisoned, and that her husband, Oliver Rane, had done the deed.
In truth Mrs. North had been in a state of mental ferment ever since
she had become cognizant of the expected return of Mr. Adair to
England. Why she should dread this, and why it should excite her in no
measured degree she alone knew. No one around her had the least idea
that the home-coming of Mr. Adair would be more to her than the
arrival of any stranger might be. Restless, nervous, anxious, with an
evil and crafty look in her eyes, with ears that were ever open, with
hands that could never be still, waited madam. The household saw
nothing--only that her tyranny became more unbearable day by day.
It almost seemed as though she took up the whispered accusation
against Dr. Rane as a vent for some of her other and terrible
uneasiness. He must be brought to the bar of justice to answer for his
crime, avowed madam. She drove to the houses of the different county
magistrates, urging this view upon them; she besieged the county
coroner in his office, and bade him get the necessary authority and
issue his orders for the exhumation of the body.
The coroner was Mr. Dale. There had recently been a sharp contest for
the coronership, which had become vacant, between a doctor and a
lawyer: the latter was Dale, of Whitborough, and he had gained the
day. To say that madam, swooping down upon him with this command,
startled him, would be saying little, as describing his state of
astonishment. Occupied very much just now with the proceedings
attaching to his new honour, Lawyer Dale had found less time for
gossiping about his neighbours' affairs than usual; and not a syllable
of the flying rumour had reached him. So little did he at first
believe it, and so badly did he think of madam for the part she was
playing, that, had she been a man, he would have given her the lie
direct. But she was persistent, repeating the charge over and over to
him in the most obnoxious and least delicate manner possible: Oliver
Rane had poisoned his wife during her attack of fever, and he had done
it to get possession of the tontine money. She went over the grounds
of suspicion, dwelling on them one by one; and perhaps the lawyer's
belief in Dr. Rane's innocence was just a trifle shaken--which,
however, he did not acknowledge. After some sparring between them--Mr.
Dale holding back from interference, she pressing it on--the coroner
was obliged to admit that if a demand for an inquest were formally
made to him he should have no resource but to call one. Finally he
undertook to institute some private inquiries into the matter, and see
whether there were sufficient grounds to justify so extreme a course.
Madam sharply replied that if he showed the smallest disposition to
stifle the inquiry, she should at once cause the Home Secretary to be
communicated with. And with that she swept down to her carriage.
Perhaps, of all classes of men, lawyers are most brought into contact
with the crimes and follies committed by the human race. Mr. Dale had
not been at all scrupulous as to what he undertook; and many curious
matters had come under his experience. Leaning back in his chair after
madam's visit, revolving the various points of the story, his opinion
changed, and he came to the conclusion that, on the face of things, it
did look very much as though Dr. Rane had been guilty. Lawyer Dale had
no reason to wish the doctor harm; especially the fearful harm a
public investigation might entail upon him: had the choice lain with
him, he would have remained quiescent, and left the doctor to his
conscience. But he saw clearly that Mrs. North would not suffer this,
and that it was more than probable he would have to act.
The first move he made, in his undertaking to institute some private
inquiry, was to seek an interview with Mr. Seeley. He went himself;
the matter was of too delicate a nature to be confided to a clerk. In
his questions he was reticent, after the custom of a man of law,
giving no clue, and intending to give none, as to why he put them; but
Mr. Seeley had heard of the rumoured accusation, and spoke out freely.
"I confess that I could not quite understand the death," he avowed:
"but I do not suspect that Dr. Rane, or any one else had any hand in
it. She died naturally, as I believe. Mr. Dale, this is a horrible
thing for you to bring against him."
"_I_ bring it!" cried Mr. Dale. "I don't bring it; I'd rather let the
doubt die out. It is forced upon me."
"Who by? These confounded scandalmongers?"
"By Mrs. North."
"Mrs. North!" echoed the surgeon, in surprise. "You don't mean to say
the North family are taking it up."
"I don't know about the family. Madam is, with a vengeance. She won't
let it rest. There is an evident animus in her mind against Dr. Rane,
and she means to pursue the charge to its extremity."
Mr. Seeley felt vexed to hear it. When these rare and grave charges
are brought against one of the medical body, the rest, as a rule,
would rather resent than entertain it. And, besides, the surgeon liked
Dr. Rane.
"Come; you may as well tell me the truth," cried the lawyer, breaking
the silence. "You'll have to do it publicly, I fancy."
"Mr. Dale," was the answer, "I have told you the truth according to my
belief. Never a suspicion of foul play crossed my mind in regard to
Mrs. Rane's death. I saw nothing to give rise to it."
"You did not see her after she died: nor for some hours before it?"
"No."
"You think she went off naturally."
"Most certainly I think so."
"But, see here--we lawyers have to probe opinions, you know, so excuse
me. If it were to be proved that she went off in--in a different way,
you would not be surprised; eh, Seeley?"
"I should be very much surprised."
"From your recollection of the facts, you would not be able to bring
forth any proof to the contrary?"
"Well, no; I should not be able."
"There's the difficulty, you see," resumed the lawyer; "there's where
it will lie. You believe Rane was innocent, I may believe him
innocent; but no one can furnish sufficient proof to stop the inquiry.
It will have to go on as sure as fate."
"Cannot _you_ stop it, Mr. Dale?"
"I promise you this: that I will throw as many difficulties in the way
of it as I possibly can. But when once I am publicly called upon to
act, I shall have to obey."
That was the end of the interview. It had a little strengthened the
lawyer's doubts, if anything. Mr. Seeley had not seen her after death.
What he was going to do next Mr. Dale did not say.
By the day following this, perhaps the only two people accustomed to
walk up and down the streets of Dallory who still remained in blissful
ignorance of the trouble afloat, were Dr. Rane himself, and Richard
North. No one had dared to mention it to either of them. Richard,
however, was soon to be enlightened.
Business took him to his bankers' in Whitborough. It was of a private
nature, requiring to be transacted between himself and one of the old
brothers at the head of the firm. After it was over they began talking
about things in general, and Richard asked incidentally whether much
further delay would take place in paying the tontine money to Dr.
Rane.
"I am not sure that we shall be able to pay it at all," replied Sir
Thomas Ticknell.
"Why not?" asked Richard, in surprise.
For answer, the old gentleman looked significantly at Richard for a
moment, and then demanded whether he was still in ignorance of what
had become the chief topic of the place.
Bit by bit, it all came out. The Brothers Ticknell, it appeared, had
heard the report quite at the first: friends are always to be found
when there is an opportunity of doing a fellow-man an injury; and some
one had hastened to the bankers with the news. Richard North sat
aghast as he listened. His sister was supposed to have come by her
death unfairly! For once in his life he changed to the hue of the
grave, and his strong frame trembled.
"We hear the new coroner, Dale, has the matter in hand now," remarked
Sir Thomas. "I fear it will be a terrible scandal."
Recovering the shock in some degree, Richard North took his departure,
and went over to Dale's, whose offices were nearly opposite the bank.
The lawyer was there, and made no scruple of disclosing what he knew
to Richard.
"It's a pity that I have to take the matter up," said Dale.
"Considering the uncertainty at present attending it--considering that
also it cannot bring the dead to life, and that it will be a most
painful thing for old Mr. North--and for you too, Mr. Richard--I think
it would be as well to let it alone."
"But who is stirring in it?" asked Richard.
"Madam."
"Madam! Do you mean Mrs. North?"
"To be sure I do. I don't say that public commotion and officious
people would not soon have brought it to the same issue; but, any way,
Mrs. North has forestalled them." And he told Richard of madam's visit
to him.
"You say you have been making some private inquiries," observed
Richard.
Mr. Dale nodded.
"And what is your candid opinion? Tell me, Dale."
But the lawyer hesitated to say he feared Dr. Rane might have been
guilty. Not only because it was an unpleasant assertion to make to Dr.
Rane's brother-in-law, but also because he really had doubts as to
whether it was so or not.
"I hold no decided opinion as yet," he said. "I may not be able to
form one until the post-mortem examination has taken place----"
"You do not mean to say that they will--that they will disturb my
sister!" interrupted Richard North, his eyes full of horror.
"Why, that's the first thing they will do--if the investigation goes
on at all," cried the lawyer. "That's always the preliminary step in
these cases. You are forgetting."
"I suppose I am," groaned Richard. "This has been a great shock to me.
Dale, you cannot believe him guilty!"
"Well, I can't tell; and that's the fact," candidly avowed the lawyer.
"There are certainly some suspicious circumstances attending the case:
but at the same time, they are only what Dr. Rane may be able to
explain satisfactorily away."
"How have the doubts arisen?" questioned Richard. "There were none--I
suppose--at the time."
"As far as I can at present ascertain, they have sprung from some
words incautiously dropped by Jelly, the late Mrs. Cumberland's maid.
Whether Jelly saw anything at the time of Mrs. Rane's illness to give
rise to suspicion I don't know. I have not yet seen her. It is
necessary to go about this business cautiously; and Jelly, I expect,
will not prove a willing witness."
"Did madam tell you this arose from Jelly?"
"Oh dear, no. Madam does not concern herself as to the source of the
suspicions; she said to me: 'There they are, and you must deal with
them.' I had the information from my clerk, Timothy Wilks. In striving
to trace the rumours to their source, I traced them to him. Carpeting
him before me in this room, I insisted upon his telling me where he
obtained them from. He answered readily enough, 'From Jelly.' It seems
Jelly was spending an evening at his aunt's, or cousin's, or
grandmother's--whatever it is. I mean the wife of your timekeeper,
Mr. Richard North. Wilks was present: only those three; the
conversation turned upon Mrs. Rane's death, and Jelly said a few words
that startled them. I quite believe that was the beginning of the
scandal."
"What can Jelly know?" exclaimed Richard, dreamily.
"I can't tell. The report is, that Mrs. Rane had something wrong given
to her by her husband the last day of her life: and that his object
was to get the tontine money, which he could not touch whilst she
lived. A curious thing that the husband and wife should be the two
last left in that tontine!" added the lawyer. "I've often said so."
"But even"--Richard paused--"if this had been so, how could Jelly have
learnt it?"
"Well, things come out in strange ways sometimes; especially if they
are things that ought to be kept secret. I've noticed it. Jelly's
mistress was away, and she may have gone in to help nurse Mrs. Rane in
her illness: we don't yet know how it was."
Richard North rose to depart. "At any rate, I do not see that it was
madam's place to take it up," he remarked. "She should have left that
to the discretion of my father and myself."
"She was in a perfect fever over it," cried Mr. Dale. "She talked of
sending an application to the Home Secretary. I shouldn't wonder but
what it has already gone up."
From the lawyer's house, Richard went direct to that of the late Mrs.
Cumberland. The darkness of evening was then drawing on. As he reached
the door, Miss Beverage, in her dove-coloured Quaker's bonnet,
approached it from an opposite direction. Raising his hat, he asked
whether he could be allowed a five minutes' interview with Jelly. Miss
Beverage, who knew Richard by sight, was very chatty and pleasant: she
took him into the drawing-room and sent Jelly to him. And Jelly felt
half inclined to faint as she shut the door, for she well knew what
must be coming.
But, after some fencing with Richard's questions, Jelly gave in. He
was resolute in hearing all she could tell, and at length she made a
clean breast of it. She related what she knew, and what she suspected,
from beginning to end; and before she had finished, a strange relief,
that Richard should know it, grew upon her.
"For I shall consider that the responsibility is now taken off my
shoulders, sir," she said. "And perhaps it has been nothing but this
that the ill-fated lady has wanted me to do, in coming again."
In the whole narrative, the part that most struck Richard North was
Jelly's positive assertion that she had since twice seen Mrs. Rane. He
was simply astounded. And, to tell the truth, he did not attempt to
cast ridicule or disbelief on it. Richard North was an educated and
practical man, possessed of an abundance of good common sense, with no
more tendency to believe in supernatural appearances than men have in
general; but his mind had been so unhinged since the interview with
Sir Thomas Ticknell, that he almost felt inclined to admit the
possibility of his sister's not resting in her grave.
He sat with his head leaning on his hand. Collecting in some degree
his scattered senses, he strove to go over the grounds of suspicion.
But he could make nothing more of them than Dale had said. Grounds
there certainly were, but none that Dr. Rane might not be able to
explain away. Jelly drew her own deductions, and called them proofs:
but Richard saw that of proofs as yet there were none.
"Ever since that first night, I've lived in mortal horror of seeing it
again," said Jelly, interrupting his reverie. "Nobody can imagine,
sir, what a dreadful time it has been. And when I was least thinking
of it, it came the second time."
"To whom have you repeated this story of having seen her?" asked
Richard.
"The first time I told Dr. Rane and Mrs. Gass. This last time I told
the doctor and Mr. Seeley."
"Jelly," said Richard quietly, "there is no proof that anything was
wrong, except in your fancy."
"And the hasty manner that she was hid out of the way, sir--no woman
called in to do anything for her; no soul allowed to see her!" urged
Jelly. "If it wanted proof positive before, it can't want it since
what Thomas Hepburn related to me."
"All that may have been done out of regard to the welfare of the
living," said Richard.
Jelly shook her head. To her mind it was clearer than daylight.
But at this juncture, a servant came in to know if she should bring
lights. Richard took the opportunity to depart. Of what use to prolong
his stay? As he went out he saw Mr. Seeley standing at his door.
Richard crossed over and asked to speak with him: he knew of Dale's
interview with the surgeon.
"Can Rane have been guilty of this thing, or not?" questioned Richard,
when they were closeted together.
But not even here could Richard get at any decided opinion. It might
have been so, or it might not, Seeley replied. For himself, he was
inclined to think it was _not_ so: that Mrs. Rane's death was natural.
Leaving again, Richard paced up and down the dark road. His mind was
in a tumult. He, with Seeley, could not think Dr. Rane guilty. And,
even though he were so, he began to question whether it would not be
better for his father's sake, for all their sakes, to let the matter
lie. Richard put the two aspects together, and compared them. On the
one side there would be the merited punishment of Oliver Rane and
vengeance on Bessy's wrongs; the other would bring a terrible amount
of pain, exposure, almost disgrace. And Richard feared for the effect
it might have on Mr. North. Before his walk was over, he decided that
it would be infinitely best to hush up the scandal, should that still
be possible.
But, for his own satisfaction, he wished to get at the truth. It
seemed to him that he could hardly live in the uncertainty. Taking a
rapid resolution, he approached Dr. Rane's; knocked at the door, and
asked old Phillis if he could see her master.
She at once showed him into the dining-room. Dr. Rane, weary, perhaps,
with the cares of the day, had fallen asleep in his chair. He sprang
up at the interruption; a startled, almost frightened expression
appeared in his face. Richard North could but notice it, and his heart
failed him, for it seemed to speak of guilt. Phillis shut them in
together.
How Richard opened the interview, he scarcely knew, and could never
afterwards recall. He soon found that Dr. Rane remained as yet in
ignorance of the stir that was abroad; and this rendered his task all
the more difficult. Richard entered on the communication in the most
delicate manner that the subject admitted of. Dr. Rane did not receive
it kindly. He first swore a great oath, and then--his anger checked
suddenly as if by some latent thought or fear--he sank back in his
chair and bent his head on his hands, as a man struck dumb with
tribulation.
"I think _you_ need not have given credit to this report against me,
Richard North," he presently spoke in reproachful accents. "But I
believe you lost confidence in me a year and a half ago."
He so evidently alluded to the anonymous letter that Richard did not
affect to misunderstand him. It might be better to speak openly.
"I believe you wrote that, Rane."
"True. I did. But not to injure your brother. I thought Alexander must
be a bad man--that he must be leading Edmund North into difficulties
to serve himself. I had no cause to spare him, but the contrary, for
he had injured me, was injuring me daily; and I wrote what I did to
Mr. North, hoping it might expose Alexander and damage him. There: you
have it. I would rather have had my hand cut off than have hurt your
brother. I wished afterwards that it had been cut off first. But it
was too late then."
And because of that anonymous letter Dr. Rane knew, and Richard felt,
that the accusation, now made, gathered weight. When a man has been
guilty of one thing, we think it a reason why he may be guilty of
another.
A silence ensued. They sat, the table between them. The room was
rather dark. The lamp was shaded, the fire had burned low; before the
large window wore stretched the sombre curtains. Richard North would
have given some years of his life for this most distressing business
never to have come into it.
He went on with what he had to say. Dr. Rane, motionless now, kept his
hand over his face whilst he listened. Richard told of the public
commotion; of the unparalleled shock it had been to himself, of the
worse shock he feared it might be to his father. Again there was an
interruption: but Dr. Rane in speaking did not raise his face.
"Is my liberty in danger?"
"Not yet--in one sense of the word. I believe you are under the
surveillance of the police."
"Watched by them?"
"Yes. But only to see that you do not get away."
"That is--they track me out and home, I am to understand? I am watched
in and out of my patients' houses. If I have occasion to pay country
visits, these stealthy bloodhounds are at my heels, night or day?"
"I conclude it is so," answered Richard.
"Since when has this been?"
"Since--I think since the day before yesterday. There is a
probability, as I hear, that the Home Secretary will be applied to.
If----"
"For what purpose?"
"For authority to disturb the grave," said Richard, in low tones.
Dr. Rane started up, a frenzy of terror apparent in his face.
"They--they--surely they are not talking of doing _that?_" he cried,
turning white as death.
"Yes they are. To have her disturbed will be to us the most painful of
all."
"Stop it, for Heaven's sake!" came the imploring cry. "Stop it,
Richard North! Stop it!"
But at that moment there broke upon their ears a frightful commotion
outside the door. Richard opened it. Dr. Rane, who had sunk on to his
seat again, never stirred. Old Phillis, coming in from the scullery
after a cleaning excursion, had accidentally dropped a small cartload
of pots and pans.