THE BODY OF LE GAIRE
Miles had stationed a sentry just inside the front door, but he was the
only one of our men visible, nearly all of the others being at breakfast
in the kitchen. I felt no need of any help however, for Le Gaire was
unarmed, and not of a nature to make serious resistance. Besides, if I
was mistaken as to his hiding place in the house I preferred making the
discovery alone. My exploration during the night had made me familiar
with the arrangement of the front rooms, but not the extension to the
rear. I stopped, in the silence, at the head of the stairs, to glance
about, and decide where I had better begin. Miss Hardy's door was
closed, even the transom lowered, and I instantly decided not to disturb
her until the very last. Yet I was soldier enough to take the other
rooms in rotation, realizing the danger of leaving an enemy in my rear.
These were soon disposed of, although I made a close search,
disarranging beds, delving into closets, and leaving no nook or corner
big enough to conceal a man, unrevealed. I endeavored to accomplish all
this quietly, yet must have made some noise, for as I rolled back a bed
in the third room entered, I heard the door creak and sprang to my feet
to confront Billie. I hardly know which was the more startled, for the
girl staggered back, one hand thrown out.
"You! Oh, I thought--" she drew her breath quickly.
"You thought what?"
"Oh, nothing--only I heard the noise, and--and wondered who it could
be." She looked about at the confusion. "What--what are you doing?
Hunting for some one?"
"A needle in a haystack," I answered, suddenly suspicious that she might
know something of the fugitive. "Will you help me search?"
"I--I hardly appreciate your humor," haughtily. "Is--is it Captain Le
Gaire?"
"Why do you suspect that, Miss Willifred? Is it because you imagine the
man may be here?"
"Because I know he got away; because I know your feeling toward him,
your effort to take his life."
"You know! What is all this?" so stunned I could scarcely articulate.
"Surely your father--"
"I know of no reason why my father should be dragged into this affair."
"But he was present; he surely told you what occurred."
"He said the two of you went out to fight; that it was a dishonorable
affair. He gave me no particulars, and I asked none--I already knew what
had taken place."
"Then you have seen Le Gaire since--is that so?"
She turned her back toward me, and stepped into the hall. The action was
defiant, almost insulting.
"Miss Willifred, I insist on an answer."
"Indeed," carelessly, "to what?"
"To my question--have you seen Le Gaire since?"
"I refuse to tell you."
It was an instant before I found my voice, or could control my words.
This was all most confusing, and yet the light was coming. Here was the
secret of her sudden dislike for me. Her hand was already upon the knob
of her own door, and she did not so much as glance back. What could I
say? What ought I to say? Beyond doubt, uncertain as to her real
feelings toward Le Gaire, Hardy had not revealed to her the fellow's
disgraceful action. Some way, his brief explanation had merely served to
confirm her previous opinion that the captain had been the one
injured--such an impression she could have derived only from Le Gaire.
It was equally clear I could not explain. She would scarcely believe
any effort to defend myself. Why should she think me capable of a
dastardly act? Why believe Le Gaire's hasty lie, and refuse me even a
hearing? The thought left me so indignant that for the moment I felt
indifferent even to her good opinion.
"Well, Miss Hardy," I said at last, conscious my voice trembled, "I am
going to find this man if he is in the house, even if the search takes
me to your own room."
"Then begin there," and she stood aside, the door flung open. "It must
require great bravery to hunt down an unarmed man."
"I only know you are going to regret those words when you learn the
truth. There is a mistake here, but one others must rectify. Your
actions merely confirm my belief that Le Gaire sought refuge in this
building. I am going to know before I withdraw my men."
She was not quite so defiant, not quite so certain, yet she did not
move.
"Will you tell me--has he been here?"
"Why do you want to know?"
I hesitated, not really knowing myself, suddenly made aware that I had
no true purpose in the search. My embarrassment confirmed her suspicion.
"Revenge, wasn't it?" scornfully. "A desire to complete the work begun
yonder. I'll answer if you wish me to. Captain Le Gaire came here to me
wounded, and seeking shelter. I helped him as I would any Confederate
soldier. But he is not here now--see, the room is empty; yes, search it
for yourself."
It was useless arguing, useless denying--the girl was in a state of mind
which no assertions of mine could combat.
"Then where is he now?"
"I have no means of knowing--safely away from the house, I hope. I--I
left him here when I went down stairs; when I came back he was gone."
"And you say he was wounded?"
"Certainly--you ought to know, the blow of an assassin, not a soldier."
She looked straight at me, her cheeks red, her eyes burning with
indignation. Then, as though she could bear my presence no longer, she
swept into the room, and closed the door in my face. It was an action of
such utter contempt that I actually staggered back, grasping the rail of
the stair. What in the name of Heaven had gained possession of the girl?
What infernal lie had been told her? By all the gods, I would find Le
Gaire, and choke the truth out of him. My head ached yet with the blow
he had dealt me, but this hurt worse. I had a reason now for running
the man down. Wherever he had gone, even into the Confederate camp, I
vowed I would follow. But first the house: I could conceive of no way in
which he could have gotten out--there was a guard in front, and I had
locked the rear door. I went at the task deliberately, coolly,
determined to overlook nothing. There was something of value at stake
now, and my mind was as busy as my hands and eyes. How did he ever
succeed in getting to Billie? I had locked her door, and taken away the
key. It was not until I invaded the last room on the main floor that I
solved this riddle--the two apartments formed a suite with connecting
door between. However he was not there now, and all that remained to
search was the servants' ell.
The hallway narrowed, and was lower by a single step, the back stairs at
the left. There was no window, and with all the doors closed, I could
see down only a portion of the way. The hallway itself was gloomy, the
shade of the rear window being closely drawn. This, with the stillness
all about, enabled me to hear the voices of the men in the kitchen
below, and to become aware that the firing, sounding from a distance
since early morning, seemed now much closer at hand. It was not
altogether artillery any longer, but I could plainly distinguish the
volleys of musketry. What could this signify? Were the Confederates
being forced back? If so would the Hardy house be caught in the
maelstrom of retreat? The possibility of such a result only made haste
more imperative. There were three doors at the right, and two opposite.
I opened these cautiously, half expecting Le Gaire to dash out, with any
weapon he might have secured, desperate enough to fight hard. But
nothing occurred, the rooms showed no sign of having been lately
occupied. I was at the one next to the last when a board creaked
somewhere behind me, and I wheeled about instantly, and ran back to the
head of the stairs. There was nothing visible, and a glance down the
front hall proved it also deserted--only the door of Miss Willifred's
room stood slightly ajar. She was watching me then, fearful lest the
fellow had failed to get away. This discovery added to my anxiety, and
my anger. He should not get away--not if I could prevent it--until he
confessed to her the truth. I ran back into the ell, fearful now that he
had escaped through a window, yet determined to examine that last room.
There was a rag carpet along the back hall, and, in the semi-darkness, I
tripped, falling heavily forward, striking the floor with a crash, my
revolver flying from my hand, and hitting the side wall. I was on my
knees in an instant, thoughtless of everything except that I had come
into contact with a body. The shock numbed me, nor could my fingers
alone solve the mystery. I sprang erect, and threw open the nearest side
door, permitting the light to stream in. Then I saw the man's face,
upturned, lifeless--the face of Gerald Le Gaire. It seemed to me I could
not move, could not even breathe, as I stared down at the motionless
form. Then I touched his wrist, feeling for a pulse which had ceased to
beat. A noise at my back caused me to start, and glance behind. Billie
stood at the end of the narrow hall.
"What is it? Have--have you killed him?"
I whirled, facing her, indignant at the words, and yet understanding as
swiftly the reason for her suspicions.
"It is Captain Le Gaire. I have just found him lying here."
"Found him! Yes, but not lying there; I heard the noise, the fall of his
body. Is--is he dead?"
She stood grasping the stair-rail, shrinking back from closer approach,
her white face horror-stricken. I drew a quick breath, fairly quivering
under the sting of her words.
"Yes, he is dead, Miss Hardy," I said, knowing I must end the suspense,
"but not by my hand. I tripped and fell in the darkness, causing the
noise you heard. I am going to ask you to return to your room; you can
be of no service here. I will have your father and Captain Bell help me
with the body."
She never moved, her eyes on my face.
"Then--then will you permit my father to come to me?"
"Certainly--perhaps we will know then how this occurred."
"Is that your revolver lying there?"
I had forgotten the weapon, but perceived it now, on the floor just
beyond Le Gaire's head.
"Yes, it was dropped when I fell," I took a step toward her. "You will
go back, will you not?"
She seemed to shrink from my approach, and moved backward, still facing
me, until she came to her own door. There she remained a moment,
clinging to the knob, but as I emerged into the full light of the front
hall, she stepped into the room, and closed the door. Some way, her
action hurt me worse than any words could have done, yet I walked past
to the stairs in silence, and called to the guard below.
Miles came up with the two Confederates, and a dozen words of
explanation sufficed. Together we picked up the body, bore it into a
near-by room, and placed it upon the bed. The man had been struck back
of the ear, apparently by the butt of a revolver or the stock of a gun,
the skull crushed. Death had been instantaneous; possibly he never knew
what hit him. We examined the wound, and then looked into each others'
faces utterly unable to account for the condition.
"By Gad, I don't see how he ever got that," said Hardy. "Nor this ugly
cut here on the forehead. What do you make out of it, Galesworth?"
I shook my head, thoroughly mystified.
"I've told you all I know; he was lying there in the open when I found
him--there was nothing he could have struck against in falling."
"That was a blow struck him," insisted the sergeant, "either by a
square-handled pistol, or a carbine stock. I've seen that sorter thing
before; but who the hell ever hit him?"
No one attempted to answer. Then I said,
"The only thing I have noticed which might be a clue is this: when I
first came in through the kitchen I discovered a clod of fresh clay dirt
on the back stairs. I supposed it had dropped from Le Gaire's boots. But
there's no sign of yellow clay on his boots now. It must have been some
one else."
"Trailin' the poor devil," ejaculated Miles. "But who was he? An' where
is he now?"
None attempted a guess, looking blankly into each others' faces, and
down upon the ghastly features of the dead man. We were all accustomed
to death, and in terrible form, but this was different, this held a
horror all its own. I could hear the heavy breathing, we stood so
motionless.
"Major Hardy,"--and it was like sacrilege to break the silence,--"we can
never clear the mystery standing here. I've examined every room on this
floor, and there is not so much as a rat in any of them. Whoever the
murderer was, he has either got away, or is hidden on some other
floor--is there an attic?"
"Yes, but with no stairs; the only way to get there is by the kitchen
roof. What do you propose to do?"
"Take a moment and see if I can think it out," I said, drawing a sheet
up over the dead face. "There must be some simple way to account for all
this if we can only get on the right trail. Come, gentlemen."
We passed out together, and stopped in front of the closed door. The
firing without was growing so much heavier that all noticed it, Bell
striding to the end of the hall, and thrusting his head out of the
window. Still it was not close enough as yet to be alarming, and my
thought was upon other things.
"Major, I wish you would go in and speak to your daughter," I said. "I
told her you would come and tell her all you knew."
I watched him cross to the door, knock, and enter.