IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
It was now only a week from the date on which the trial was to open. In
eight days the mystery would almost certainly be solved (if it was
capable of solution), for the trial promised to be quite a short one,
and then Reuben Hornby would be either a convicted felon or a free man,
clear of the stigma of the crime.
For several days past, Thorndyke had been in almost constant possession
of the laboratory, while his own small room, devoted ordinarily to
bacteriology and microscopical work was kept continually locked; a state
of things that reduced Polton to a condition of the most extreme nervous
irritation, especially when, as he told me indignantly, he met Mr.
Anstey emerging from the holy of holies, grinning and rubbing his hands
and giving utterance to genial but unparliamentary expressions of amused
satisfaction.
I had met Anstey on several occasions lately, and each time liked him
better than the last; for his whimsical, facetious manner covered a
nature (as it often does) that was serious and thoughtful; and I found
him, not only a man of considerable learning, but one also of a lofty
standard of conduct. His admiration for Thorndyke was unbounded, and I
could see that the two men collaborated with the utmost sympathy and
mutual satisfaction.
But although I regarded Mr. Anstey with feelings of the liveliest
friendship, I was far from gratified when, on the morning of which I am
writing, I observed him from our sitting-room window crossing the
gravelled space from Crown Office Row and evidently bearing down on our
chambers. For the fact is that I was awaiting the arrival of Juliet, and
should greatly have preferred to be alone at the moment, seeing that
Thorndyke had already gone out. It is true that my fair enslaver was not
due for nearly half-an-hour, but then, who could say how long Anstey
would stay, or what embarrassments might arise from my efforts to
escape? By all of which it may be perceived that my disease had reached
a very advanced stage, and that I was unequal to those tactics of
concealment that are commonly attributed to the ostrich.
A sharp rap of the knocker announced the arrival of the disturber of my
peace, and when I opened the door Anstey walked in with the air of a man
to whom an hour more or less is of no consequence whatever. He shook my
hand with mock solemnity, and, seating himself upon the edge of the
table, proceeded to roll a cigarette with exasperating deliberation.
"I infer," said he, "that our learned brother is practising parlour
magic upstairs, or peradventure he has gone on a journey?"
"He has a consultation this morning," I answered. "Was he expecting
you?"
"Evidently not, or he would have been here. No, I just looked in to ask
a question about the case of your friend Hornby. You know it comes on
for trial next week?"
"Yes; Thorndyke told me. What do you think of Hornby's prospects? Is he
going to be convicted, or will he get an acquittal?"
"_He_ will be entirely passive," replied Anstey, "but _we_"--here he
slapped his chest impressively--"are going to secure an acquittal. You
will be highly entertained, my learned friend, and Mr. The Enemy will be
excessively surprised." He inspected the newly-made cigarette with a
critical air and chuckled softly.
"You seem pretty confident," I remarked.
"I am," he answered, "though Thorndyke considers failure
possible--which, of course, it is if the jury-box should chance to be
filled with microcephalic idiots and the judge should prove incapable of
understanding simple technical evidence. But we hope that neither of
these things will happen, and, if they do not, we feel pretty safe. By
the way, I hope I am not divulging your principal's secrets?"
"Well," I replied, with a smile, "you have been more explicit than
Thorndyke ever has."
"Have I?" he exclaimed, with mock anxiety; "then I must swear you to
secrecy. Thorndyke is so very close--and he is quite right too. I never
cease admiring his tactics of allowing the enemy to fortify and
barricade the entrance that he does _not_ mean to attack. But I see you
are wishing me at the devil, so give me a cigar and I will go--though
not to that particular destination."
"Will you have one of Thorndyke's special brand?" I asked malignantly.
"What! those foul Trichinopolies? Not while brown paper is to be
obtained at every stationer's; I'd sooner smoke my own wig."
I tendered my own case, from which he selected a cigar with anxious care
and much sniffing; then he bade me a ceremonious adieu and departed down
the stairs, blithely humming a melody from the latest comic opera.
He had not left more than five minutes when a soft and elaborate
rat-tat from the little brass knocker brought my heart into my mouth. I
ran to the door and flung it open, revealing Juliet standing on the
threshold.
"May I come in?" she asked. "I want to have a few words with you before
we start."
I looked at her with some anxiety, for she was manifestly agitated, and
the hand that she held out to me trembled.
"I am greatly upset, Dr. Jervis," she said, ignoring the chair that I
had placed for her. "Mr. Lawley has been giving us his views of poor
Reuben's case, and his attitude fills me with dismay."
"Hang Mr. Lawley!" I muttered, and then apologised hastily. "What made
you go to him, Miss Gibson?"
"I didn't go to him; he came to us. He dined with us last night--he and
Walter--and his manner was gloomy in the extreme. After dinner Walter
took him apart with me and asked him what he really thought of the case.
He was most pessimistic. 'My dear sir,' he said, 'the only advice I can
give you is that you prepare yourself to contemplate disaster as
philosophically as you can. In my opinion your cousin is almost certain
to be convicted.' 'But,' said Walter, 'what about the defence? I
understood that there was at least a plausible case.' Mr. Lawley
shrugged his shoulders. 'I have a sort of _alibi_ that will go for
nothing, but I have no evidence to offer in answer to that of the
prosecution, and no case; and I may say, speaking in confidence, that I
do not believe there is any case. I do not see how there can be any
case, and I have heard nothing from Dr. Thorndyke to lead me to suppose
that he has really done anything in the matter.' Is this true, Dr.
Jervis? Oh! do tell me the real truth about it! I have been so miserable
and terrified since I heard this, and I was so full of hope before. Tell
me, is it true? Will Reuben be sent to prison after all?"
In her agitation she laid her hands on my arm and looked up into my face
with her grey eyes swimming with tears, and was so piteous, so trustful,
and, withal, so bewitching that my reserve melted like snow before a
July sun.
"It is not true," I answered, taking her hands in mine and speaking
perforce in a low tone that I might not betray my emotion. "If it were,
it would mean that I have wilfully deceived you, that I have been false
to our friendship; and how much that friendship has been to me, no one
but myself will ever know."
She crept a little closer to me with a manner at once penitent and
wheedling.
"You are not going to be angry with me, are you? It was foolish of me to
listen to Mr. Lawley after all you have told me, and it did look like a
want of trust in you, I know. But you, who are so strong and wise, must
make allowance for a woman who is neither. It is all so terrible that I
am quite unstrung; but say you are not really displeased with me, for
that would hurt me most of all."
Oh! Delilah! That concluding stroke of the shears severed the very last
lock, and left me--morally speaking--as bald as a billiard ball.
Henceforth I was at her mercy and would have divulged, without a
scruple, the uttermost secrets of my principal, but that that astute
gentleman had placed me beyond the reach of temptation.
"As to being angry with you," I answered, "I am not, like Thorndyke, one
to essay the impossible, and if I could be angry it would hurt me more
than it would you. But, in fact, you are not to blame at all, and I am
an egotistical brute. Of course you were alarmed and distressed; nothing
could be more natural. So now let me try to chase away your fears and
restore your confidence.
"I have told you what Thorndyke said to Reuben: that he had good hopes
of making his innocence clear to everybody. That alone should have been
enough."
"I know it should," murmured Juliet remorsefully; "please forgive me for
my want of faith."
"But," I continued, "I can quote you the words of one to whose opinions
you will attach more weight. Mr. Anstey was here less than half-an-hour
ago--"
"Do you mean Reuben's counsel?"
"Yes."
"And what did he say? Oh, do tell me what he said."
"He said, in brief, that he was quite confident of obtaining an
acquittal, and that the prosecution would receive a great surprise. He
seemed highly pleased with his brief, and spoke with great admiration of
Thorndyke."
"Did he really say that--that he was confident of an acquittal?" Her
voice was breathless and unsteady, and she was clearly, as she had said,
quite unstrung. "What a relief it is," she murmured incoherently; "and
so very, very kind of you!" She wiped her eyes and laughed a queer,
shaky little laugh; then, quite suddenly, she burst into a passion of
sobbing.
Hardly conscious of what I did, I drew her gently towards me, and rested
her head on my shoulder whilst I whispered into her ear I know not what
words of consolation; but I am sure that I called her "dear Juliet," and
probably used other expressions equally improper and reprehensible.
Presently she recovered herself, and, having dried her eyes, regarded me
somewhat shamefacedly, blushing hotly, but smiling very sweetly
nevertheless.
"I am ashamed of myself," she said, "coming here and weeping on your
bosom like a great baby. It is to be hoped that your other clients do
not behave in this way."
Whereat we both laughed heartily, and, our emotional equilibrium being
thus restored, we began to think of the object of our meeting.
"I am afraid I have wasted a great deal of time," said Juliet, looking
at her watch. "Shall we be too late, do you think?"
"I hope not," I replied, "for Reuben will be looking for us; but we must
hurry."
I caught up my hat, and we went forth, closing the oak behind us, and
took our way up King's Bench Walk in silence, but with a new and
delightful sense of intimate comradeship. I glanced from time to time at
my companion, and noted that her cheek still bore a rosy flush, and when
she looked at me there was a sparkle in her eye, and a smiling softness
in her glance, that stirred my heart until I trembled with the intensity
of the passion that I must needs conceal. And even while I was feeling
that I must tell her all, and have done with it, tell her that I was her
abject slave, and she my goddess, my queen; that in the face of such a
love as mine no man could have any claim upon her; even then, there
arose the still, small voice that began to call me an unfaithful steward
and to remind me of a duty and trust that were sacred even beyond love.
In Fleet Street I hailed a cab, and, as I took my seat beside my fair
companion, the voice began to wax and speak in bolder and sterner
accents.
"Christopher Jervis," it said, "what is this that you are doing? Are you
a man of honour or nought but a mean, pitiful blackguard? You, the
trusted agent of this poor, misused gentleman, are you not planning in
your black heart how you shall rob him of that which, if he is a man at
all, must be more to him than his liberty, or even his honour? Shame on
you for a miserable weakling! Have done with these philanderings and
keep your covenants like a gentleman--or, at least, an honest man!"
At this point in my meditations Juliet turned towards me with a coaxing
smile.
"My legal adviser seems to be revolving some deep and weighty matter,"
she said.
I pulled myself together and looked at her--at her sparkling eyes and
rosy, dimpling cheeks, so winsome and lovely and lovable.
"Come," I thought, "I must put an end to this at once, or I am lost."
But it cost me a very agony of effort to do it--which agony, I trust,
may be duly set to my account by those who may sit in judgement on me.
"Your legal adviser, Miss Gibson," I said (and at that "Miss Gibson" I
thought she looked at me a little queerly), "has been reflecting that he
has acted considerably beyond his jurisdiction."
"In what respect?" she asked.
"In passing on to you information which was given to him in very strict
confidence, and, in fact, with an implied promise of secrecy on his
part."
"But the information was not of a very secret character, was it?"
"More so than it appeared. You see, Thorndyke thinks it so important not
to let the prosecution suspect that he has anything up his sleeve, that
he has kept even Mr. Lawley in the dark, and he has never said as much
to me as Anstey did this morning."
"And now you are sorry you told me; you think I have led you into a
breach of trust. Is it not so?" She spoke without a trace of petulance,
and her tone of dignified self-accusation made me feel a veritable worm.
"My dear Miss Gibson," I expostulated, "you entirely misunderstand me. I
am not in the least sorry that I told you. How could I have done
otherwise under the circumstances? But I want you to understand that I
have taken the responsibility of communicating to you what is really a
professional secret, and that you are to consider it as such."
"That was how I understood it," replied Juliet; "and you may rely upon
me not to utter a syllable on the subject to anyone."
I thanked her for this promise, and then, by way of making conversation,
gave her an account in detail of Anstey's visit, not even omitting the
incident of the cigar.
"And are Dr. Thorndyke's cigars so extraordinarily bad?" she asked.
"Not at all," I replied; "only they are not to every man's taste. The
Trichinopoly cheroot is Thorndyke's one dissipation, and, I must say, he
takes it very temperately. Under ordinary circumstances he smokes a
pipe; but after a specially heavy day's work, or on any occasion of
festivity or rejoicing, he indulges in a Trichinopoly, and he smokes the
very best that can be got."
"So even the greatest men have their weaknesses," Juliet moralised; "but
I wish I had known Dr. Thorndyke's sooner, for Mr. Hornby had a large
box of Trichinopoly cheroots given to him, and I believe they were
exceptionally fine ones. However, he tried one and didn't like it, so he
transferred the whole consignment to Walter, who smokes all sorts and
conditions of cigars."
So we talked on from one commonplace to another, and each more
conventional than the last. In my nervousness, I overdid my part, and
having broken the ice, proceeded to smash it to impalpable fragments.
Endeavouring merely to be unemotional and to avoid undue intimacy of
manner, I swung to the opposite extreme and became almost stiff; and
perhaps the more so since I was writhing with the agony of repression.
Meanwhile a corresponding change took place in my companion. At first
her manner seemed doubtful and bewildered; then she, too, grew more
distant and polite and less disposed for conversation. Perhaps her
conscience began to rebuke her, or it may be that my coolness suggested
to her that her conduct had not been quite of the kind that would have
commended itself to Reuben. But however that may have been, we continued
to draw farther and farther apart; and in that short half-hour we
retraced the steps of our growing friendship to such purpose that, when
we descended from the cab at the prison gate, we seemed more like
strangers than on the first day that we met. It was a miserable ending
to all our delightful comradeship, and yet what other end could one
expect in this world of cross purposes and things that might have been?
In the extremity of my wretchedness I could have wept on the bosom of
the portly warder who opened the wicket, even as Juliet had wept upon
mine; and it was almost a relief to me, when our brief visit was over,
to find that we should not return together to King's Cross as was our
wont, but that Juliet would go back by omnibus that she might do some
shopping in Oxford Street, leaving me to walk home alone.
I saw her into her omnibus, and stood on the pavement looking wistfully
at the lumbering vehicle as it dwindled in the distance. At last, with a
sigh of deepest despondency, I turned my face homeward, and, walking
like one in a dream, retraced the route over which I had journeyed so
often of late and with such different sensations.