EMILY STRIKES A MATCH.
Beulah Ware called that evening to talk over their plans for a trip to
the provinces, which Dr. Eustis, the Barlows' family physician, had
imperatively ordered for the wasting girl. Could he have looked into her
brain while she was preparing to retire in her chamber, and seen the
velocity of the thoughts which were coursing through it then, he would
surely have lengthened the weeks to months.
"Would the will be upheld?" she asked herself. Dr. Silsby's oral
evidence was strong in its favor and Shagarach had spoken hopefully of
late. The least that he could expect was a postponement until the trial
was concluded. Since the evening she spent at his house, the lawyer had
applied himself, if possible, more sternly than ever to the case, and
his manner was more than ever that of a man repressing all lightness of
spirit to make room for weighty thoughts.
What a mesh they were all entangled in. Shagarach as well as Robert,
with the monster reaching again and again at his life! And
McCausland--she hated his eternal smile. As if this business of life or
death were a comedy for his amusement or the display of his superfine
powers. She had begun to doubt whether their triumph over the false Bill
Dobbs had been as genuine as they first supposed.
"A lie will travel a league while truth is putting on his boots," old
John Davidson had said, shaking his head, when she described the
adventure to him. And the result had proved him right. Although the
truth leaked out, the original impression that Robert had really broken
out of prison was never quite corrected, and of course it did him no
good with the public.
In spite of herself, Emily could not help feeling that both these
powerful minds were overreaching themselves by their very fertility and
keenness, like the colossus of old, which tumbled by its own huge
height. For the hundredth time she set their theories before her, trying
to imagine how a jury would look at them.
Her rambling drowse naturally brought back the whole trip to
Hillsborough and her conversation with Bertha. She tried to recall every
word that the housemaid had uttered, rendered doubly precious, as it
seemed to Emily, by the impossibility of consulting her again until the
trial. What she had said of the previous fire especially struck Emily
now. She tried to form a vivid picture on the curtain of darkness which
surrounded her of that fatal study. The books all upright on their
shelves, the canary bird singing, the waste-basket, the slippers under
the arm-chair, and the dressing-gown thrown over it, the dog--suddenly
Emily's heart stood still. She started up in bed and sat on its edge.
A minute later she was feeling for the match-box. As she stood before
the mirror, her image came out slowly, slowly, emerging by the
sulphurous blue flame. Lighting the gas, she drew the curtains. The bark
of a watchdog broke the silence, or the footsteps of tardy home-comers,
and now and then the shrill, faint whistle of a distant steamer,
ocean-bound. But her ears were closed to outer impressions. She snatched
at a volume of the great encyclopedia which she kept in her room, and,
sitting on the bed, laid one knee across its fellow for a book-rest. In
this posture she read eagerly, then exchanged the volume for another,
and that for another, until she had ranged through the entire set and
peeped at every letter from Archimedes to Zero, with long and very
attentive stops at many curious headings. It was after 1 o'clock when
she turned out the light and nearly 3 when her brain stopped buzzing.
Next morning she limped in her left knee where the heavy encyclopedia
had rested and her eyes were dull at their work.
The idea was so bold, so novel, that she waited a day before submitting
it to Shagarach. Beulah Ware was her first confidant. Beulah took it up
enthusiastically, and was for developing it farther before giving it out
at all. But Emily judged this secrecy unjust to her lawyer, and,
besides, was eager to know his opinion. He listened with interest to her
"maybes" and "might bes" and commented in his usual tone of conviction.
"There are a great many 'ifs.' You depend entirely upon Bertha, and she
is not at hand. When she does appear it will be so late that you will
have little time to work up your idea. This is not said to discourage
you; only to point out the obstacles you must surmount. By all means
follow out the thought."
This was not the worst that Emily had feared, although she understood
that it meant "There are at present only two theories, McCausland's and
mine. Those are the horns of the dilemma between which the jury must
choose." Seeing that she did not reply, Shagarach turned the subject
toward Walter Riley's case, which was more serious than his mother
knew.
The robbery of the bicycles was only one of a series of thefts which had
been traced to this youthful "gang." In the club-room at Lonergan's, not
only the Whistler's bicycle, which he had refused to sell, but a store
of cigars, whisky, cheap jewelry and ladies' pocketbooks had been found,
and the junkman, Bagley, was under arrest for acting as a "fence" to the
thieves.
Walter asserted his innocence of other thefts, and also his ignorance of
all the articles excepting the bicycle, which they had urged him to
sell. His refusal to do so was corroborated by Turkey and Toot. On this
very head he had had a falling out with the crowd and had ceased to
visit the club-room, but, although it was frequented by as many as
twenty youngsters, some of them half-grown men, no one had dared to heed
Bagley's suggestion and dispose of Walter's abandoned property.
"Riley's act at its worst was no more serious than breaking a window or
plucking pears from the tree. With your help he may get clear and be put
on probation."
"Oh, must I testify?" asked Emily.
"Next Monday the case will be heard. You can be of service to the boy. I
shall recommend short terms for Fenton and Watts."
Emily promised to be present. While she was returning to her studio old
John Davidson overtook her in his carriage. She was glad to meet his
kindly glance again and accept his proffered seat, especially as she
espied the manikin, Kennedy, crossing the street in her direction. It
was only a few blocks to her destination, but before they arrived she
had poured out her new theory to the marshal, as if he were her father.
"Don't you think it's possible, Mr. Davidson?" she appealed to him,
craving a morsel of sympathy.
"Possible? Of course it's possible," he answered cheerily; "I've met
things a hundred times stranger myself."
But Emily's heart sunk a little, for she saw that he only spoke so out
of kindness and that he did not really believe in her idea. And from
that day she followed Beulah Ware's advice and hardly mentioned it,
except to Beulah.