A LEGACY FOR PETER GANNS
If at any time I entertained one shadow of regret in the execution
of those who had traduced me and so earned their destruction, it was
after we had dwelt for a season with Albert Redmayne beside Como.
The lake itself is so flagrantly sentimental and the environment so
serene and suggestive of childlike peace and good-will that I could
almost have found it in my heart to lament the innocent book lover's
taking off. But Jenny swiftly laughed me out of these emotions.
"Keep your tenderness and sentiment for me," she said. "I will not
share them."
We might have killed Albert a thousand times and left no sign--a
fact that brings me to that part of my recital I most deplore. But a
measure of delay was necessary that we might learn the market value
of his books--otherwise Virgilio Poggi would doubtless have robbed
us after the old man's death. There was a medieval history of the
Borgia family I should myself have greatly treasured under happier
circumstances.
Nevertheless, though things difficult and dangerous we had
triumphantly achieved, before this task for a child we failed; and
the reason for our collapse was not in Jenny but in me. Had I
listened to my austere partner I should have waited only until she
had searched for and found her uncle's will. This she did; and as
the instrument proved entirely satisfactory, my duty was then to
proceed about our business and remember that better an egg to-day
than a hen to-morrow. Only an artist's fond pride intervened;
nothing but my vanity, my consciousness of power to excel, upset the
rightful climax. We were, indeed, both artists, but how incomparably
the greater she! How severe and direct, how scornful of needless
elaboration! She belonged, mind and body, to the finest period of
Greek art, and echoed their stern, soulless simplicity and
perfection. Had she won her way with me, we should be living now to
enjoy the fruits of our accomplishment.
But though she did not win her way, yet, in defeat, her final,
glorious deed was to intercept the death intended for me, that I
might still live. Loyal to the last, she sacrificed herself,
forgetting, in that supreme moment, how life for me without her
could possess no shadow of compensation. When Jenny shook off the
dust of the world, I was ready and willing to do the same. As for
that future life, in which I most potently believe, since she and I
have merited a like treatment, we shall share eternity together and
so be in heaven, whatever the Great Contriver may desire to the
contrary. Yet who shall presume to dogmatize? "There is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." And what the Almighty
Mind may be pleased to think of any human performance is for the
present hidden with Him alone. He did not make the tiger to eat
grass or the eagle to feed on honey.
My wife's deeper sanity and clearer vision always inclined her to
distrust our American acquaintance, Peter Ganns. From the first
moment that Jenny's eyes fell upon that fine figure of a man, she
judged him to be built on a very different mental pattern from
Brendon. He was no New World edition of our poor, tame Marco; and
the preliminary fact that he should have anticipated us and arrived
beside Como before he was expected to do so, convinced Jenny that he
must prove a factor of extreme gravity in all future calculations.
I, too, perceived his force of character, and rejoiced to do so, for
here appeared an enemy worthy of my invention and resource.
It seemed clear that Pietro was a skeptical person--doubtless made
so by his dreadful trade. "Thomas" rather than "Peter" should have
been his name. He had a disconcerting habit of taking nothing for
granted; and his "third eye" as he called it--an eye of the
mind--saw a great many things concealed from ordinary observers. He
would have made a classical criminal.
The artist's pride, that had prevented me from acting so that Ganns
should have been invited to discover the murderer of Albert rather
than set the task of preserving his friend's life--this false,
foolish sense of superiority and security wrecked all. Had Albert
slept beneath the waters of Como before Ganns arrived, then not the
wit of twenty Peters had ever found him; but while no man living
could have saved the life of Redmayne, since had I determined to
take it, the predestined sequel to his death was confounded by my
own error. Once more Ganns struck before I expected him to do so and
I was, too late, confronted with the shattering truth. He had in
fact found me out. He returned to England, worked like a mole, dug
up my history, no doubt, and so came to the logical conclusion that
it appeared more reasonable Michael Pendean should murder Robert
Redmayne than the opposite. Having reached this conviction, his
reconstruction of each event threw added light; but even so it must
have been a spark of prodigious inspiration that identified in Doria
the vanished Cornishman.
Ganns is a great man on his own plane. But, though he is a greedy
creature who digs his grave with his knife and fork, though his
habit of drenching himself with powdered tobacco, instead of smoking
like a gentleman, is disgusting, yet I have nothing but admiration
for him. His little plot--to treat me to a dose of my own physic and
present a forgery of "Robert Redmayne" in the evening dusk--was
altogether admirable. The thing came in a manner so sudden and
unexpected that I failed of a perfect riposte. To confess that I saw
the ghost was dangerous; but to pretend afterwards that I had seen
nothing was fatal. His own immense cleverness, of course, appeared
in assuring me that he saw nothing, thus tempting me to suspect that
I had in reality been a victim of my own imagination. From that
moment the battle was joined and I stood at grave disadvantage.
How much or how little he had won from my slip I had yet to learn.
In any case the time was all too short, for I guessed now that Ganns
must at least have associated me with the unknown--he who had worn
Redmayne's clothes and had tried to shoot Brendon in his absence. It
was Jenny, of course, who had assisted me to dig Marco's grave on
Griante and who shared my disappointment when we found that Brendon
had escaped my revolver. Even so only the accident of biting his
tongue saved him. Had I not seen blood flowing from his lips, I
should have fired again.
I was not aware that Peter proposed to arrest me on the night of
Albert's death, for upon what ground could he do so? Indeed I judged
that after my final operations were completed and Albert destroyed,
good Ganns would swiftly prove, to his own satisfaction, that I
could not be associated with that crime and so feel his whole theory
open to suspicion. Had I known that Peter was at his goal, my first
thought might have been to disappear instantly and only appear again
under a new impersonation, a year or two later, when the storm was
over. In that case I should have indicated how "Giuseppe Doria" had
committed suicide and left every tactful and sufficing proof of the
fact.
But I never guessed the majestic heights of Peter's genius and,
taking the chance of his temporary absence, slew Albert with a
simple trick. There was only Mark Brendon to prevent it; and Jenny,
having reserved her final and irresistible appeal for some such
vital occasion, found no difficulty in absorbing all Marco's limited
intelligence, while awakening for him fond hopes and visions of a
notable future in her arms. It needs to be pointed out that this
worthy person's infatuation served again and again to prosper the
situation for us and handicap the efforts of Peter Ganns; but that
Ganns should have trusted him upon that all-important night to
shepherd Albert from my attention, only shows how Peter never
appreciated the limitations of his assistant. Yes, even Peter was
human, all too human.
While Jenny related her sufferings and made appeal to her listener's
overmastering devotion, I left the house and Brendon saw me go. To
get a boat, that I might cross to Bellagio, was the work of ten
minutes. I took one without troubling the owner, loaded a dozen
heavy stones and soon rowed to Villa Pianezzo and ascended the water
steps. A black beard was all the disguise I used, save that I had
left my coat in the boat and appeared before Redmayne in shirt
sleeves.
With trembling accents I related to Assunta, who of course knew me
not, that Poggi was taken fatally ill and might hardly hope to last
an hour. It was enough. I returned to the boat and in three minutes
Albert joined me and offered me untold gold to row as I had never
rowed before. A hundred and fifty yards from shore I directed him to
pass into the bow of the boat, explaining that I should so make
greater speed. As he passed me, the little pole-axe fell. He
suffered nothing and in five minutes more, with heavy stones
fastened to feet and arms, he sank beneath Como. The pole-axe
followed, its work completed. In more spacious times the weapon
would have become an heirloom. All this happened not two hundred
yards from Villa Pianezzo under the darkness.
Then I rowed ashore swiftly, returned the boat to the beach
unobserved, hid my disguise in my pocket and strolled to a familiar
inn. I had occupied but twenty-four minutes from the time of setting
out under Brendon's eyes while he sat in the garden. I stopped at
this _albergo_ for a considerable period, that a sufficient alibi
might be established and the moment of my arrival there prove
uncertain, should any future question ever arise concerning it. Then
the crash came. I returned home suspecting nothing--to fall like
Lucifer, to find all lost, to hold my dead wife in my arms and know
that, without her, life was ended for me.
In seemly, splendid fashion she passed and it shall not be recorded
that the man this glorious woman loved made an end of his days with
less distinction and propriety. To die on the gallows is to do what
many others have done; I will condescend to no such ignominy. Ganns
understood me well enough for that. Did he not warn the police how I
had been a dentist, and advised them to examine my mouth with care?
He alone realized something of my genius, but not all. Only our
peers can judge us; and such men as I come like lonely comets into
the atmosphere of earth and lonely pass away. Our magnitude
terrifies--and the herd of men thanks God when we disappear. Indeed
I was unusually blessed, for I had a greater than myself for
companion on my voyage. Like twin stars we cast a blended light; we
shone and vanished together, never to be named apart henceforth.
Let not my legacy to Peter Ganns be forgotten, or that I appoint
Mark Brendon executor and residuary legatee. With him I have no
quarrel; he did his best to save the situation for us. You ask, "How
shall a man condemned to death and watched day and night that he may
lay no hand upon himself--how shall this man make his own
departure?" Before these words are read throughout the world, you
will learn the answer to that question.
I think there is nothing more to say.
"_Al finir del gioco, si vede chi ha guadagnato._" "At the end of
the game we may see the winner." But not always, for sometimes the
game is drawn and honours are easy. I have played a drawn game with
Peter Ganns and he will not pretend a victory, or withhold the first
applause where it belongs. He knows that, even if we were equal, the
woman was greater than either of us.
Farewell,
GIUSEPPE DORIA.
* * * * *
Ten days after Peter Ganns had read this narrative and its sequel at
his snug home outside Boston, there awaited him, upon his breakfast
table, a little parcel from England. The packet suggested an
addition to Peter's famous collection of snuffboxes. He had left
certain commissions behind him in London and doubted not that a new
treasure awaited him. But he was disappointed. Something far more
amazing than any snuffbox now challenged his astonished eyes. There
came a long letter from Mark Brendon also, which repeated
information already familiar to Peter through the newspapers; but
added other facts for him alone.
NEW SCOTLAND YARD, 20 October 1921.
MY DEAR PETER GANNS: You will have heard of Pendean's
confession and message to you; but you may not have read full
details as they concern you personally. I inclose his gift; and
it is safe to bet that neither you nor any man will henceforth
possess anything more remarkable. He made a will in prison and
the law decides that I inherit his personal estate; but you
will not be surprised to learn that I have handed it over to
the police orphanages of my country and yours in equal
proportions.
The facts are these. As the day approached for his execution,
extraordinary precautions were taken, but Pendean behaved with
utmost restraint, gave no trouble and made no threat. Having
completed his written statement, he asked to be permitted to
copy it on a type-writer, but leave to do so was not granted.
He kept the communication on his person and he was promised
that no attempt to read it should be made until after his
execution. Indeed he received this undertaking before he put
pen to paper. He preserved a quiet and orderly manner, ate
well, took exercise with his guards and smoked many cigarettes.
I may mention that the body of Robert Redmayne was found where
he buried it; but the tides have deflected the beach gravels of
Bendigo's grave and search there has revealed nothing.
Upon his last night but one, Pendean retired as usual and
apparently slept for some hours with the bedclothes up to his
face. A warder sat on each side of him and a light was burning.
Suddenly he gave a sigh and held out his hand to the man on his
right.
"See that goes to Peter Ganns--it is my legacy," he said. "And
remember that Mark Brendon is my heir." He then put a small
object into the warder's hand. At the same time he apparently
suffered a tremendous physical convulsion, uttered one groan
and leaped up into a sitting position. From this he fell
forward unconscious. One attendant supported him and the other
ran for the prison surgeon. But Pendean was already
dead--poisoned with cyanide of potassium.
You will remember two facts which might have thrown light upon
his secret. The first was his accident in Italy as a youth; the
second your constant interest in a peculiar, inhuman quality of
his expression which you were never able to understand. Both
are now explained. With ordinary eyes the secret would have
doubtless been swiftly discovered by us. But in his case, so
dark were they, that pupil and iris were almost the same colour
and hence our failure to explain the artificial mystery of his
glance. He had, of course, a secret receptacle upon his person
beyond human knowledge or power of discovery, for he says that
only his mother knew of his accident. That accident was the
loss of an eye. Behind an eye of glass that took its place had
lain concealed, until he required it, the capsule of poison
found crushed within his mouth after death.
What the published statement of this knave has done for me you
will guess. I am leaving the detective service and have found
other occupation. One can only seek to live down my awful
experience. Next year my work will bring me to America and,
when that happens, I shall be very glad to see you again should
you permit me to do so--not that we may speak of the past, with
all its futility and bitterness for me, but that we may look
forward, and that I may see all is well with you in your days
of retirement, honour and ease. Until then I subscribe myself,
your admirer and faithful friend,
MARK BRENDON.
Peter opened his parcel.
It contained an eye made of glass and very exquisitely fashioned to
imitate reality. Its prevailing darkness had prevented the truth
from appearing, and yet, perfect though it was in lustre and
pigment, the false thing had given to Pendean's expression a quality
that never failed to disturb Peter. It was not sinister, yet he
remembered no such cast of countenance within his experience.
Mr. Ganns turned over the little object that had so often met his
inquiring gaze.
"A rare crook," he said aloud; "but he is right: his wife was
greater than either of us. If he'd listened to her and not his own
vainglory, both could be alive and flourishing yet."
The dark brown eye seemed to stare up at him with a human twinkle as
he brought out his gold snuffbox and took a pinch.