DICK UNDER A SHADOW.
“What does all this mean, Eugene?” asked Julia, perplexed and troubled
by the singular conduct of Dick Birch, as well as by the facts which
had been developed by the deputy sheriff.
“I don’t know, Julia; it is all as new to me as it is to you,” replied
Eugene.
“With what is he charged?”
“With nothing, Miss Hungerford,” interposed the sheriff, wishing to
remove any wrong impression from her mind. “If Mr. Birch was with Mr.
Buckstone at the time of the murder, or just before, we should like to
use him as a witness.”
“Mr. Birch says he was not with him.”
“I see no reason why he should deny the fact, if it is a fact,” said
Eugene. “If he met Buckstone, he did so with the best of motives.”
“I have no doubt of it,” added Dr. Bilks, who had all this time been
watching the effect upon Julia. “Mr. Birch is one of the truest and
noblest men it was ever my good fortune to meet.”
“But the evidence goes to show that he was with Buckstone; that he was
the person whom Ross Kingman saw with him,” continued the sheriff.
“I shall be obliged to follow up Mr. Birch till he can give me a
satisfactory account of himself at the time of the murder.”
“Ross left me at nine o’clock last evening,” continued Eugene,
recalling the circumstances.
“Did you see Mr. Birch after that time?” asked the sheriff.
“I did.”
“Dick was with mother and me till we heard Ross leave the house,” said
Julia. “Then he went into the library, where you were; and we were so
tired that we went to bed immediately.”
“Mr. Birch joined me in the library just after Ross left me. I told him
what had passed between us, and that I feared, if Ross saw Buckstone,
he would do some rash deed; but he seemed to have no fears.”
“Did he say anything about Mr. Buckstone’s being in town?” asked the
sheriff.
“Not a word.”
“Did you have any conversation with him about Buckstone, after your
return yesterday?”
“I did; he proposed to send for Buckstone, and remove all doubts in
regard to Mary’s marriage, by having it performed over again.”
“Precisely so; then he had business with Buckstone,” said the sheriff.
“What time did you leave Mr. Birch?”
“He went into the office about half past nine; and being exhausted by
my journey, and the want of sleep on my voyage, I retired.”
“You left him in the office?”
“I did.”
“Did any of your servants see him after this time?”
“I don’t know.”
“I should like to question them before I see Mr. Birch again,” added
the officer, who seemed to be satisfied that he was making out a case.
“I will give you all the assistance in my power, but I am perfectly
satisfied that Mr. Birch will conceal nothing,” replied Eugene,
confidently.
“I do not know that he has any reason to conceal anything.”
“It is possible that he intended to settle up this unpleasant affair
of Buckstone’s marriage--in which, for Mary’s sake, I have taken some
interest--without troubling me.”
“But he said distinctly that he was not with Buckstone,” interposed Dr.
Bilks; “and when Mr. Birch says a thing, he means it. In my opinion,
he was not with him. I will take his word for it against all the
circumstances that can combine against him.”
This was confiding, generous, and even magnanimous on the part of Dr.
Bilks, and Julia bestowed a smile of grateful acknowledgment upon him.
“I agree with you entirely, doctor; but it will be doing Dick a favor
to inquire into the matter.”
The sheriff had no further business on the island, and he accepted
Eugene’s invitation to accompany him to Pine Hill. Dr. Bilks was very
attentive to Julia, and while the other two gentlemen talked about the
murder, he made himself as agreeable as possible to her. He assured her
that Dick was incapable of deceit; if the handkerchief and cigar had
been found in the boat, some one else had placed them there. It was not
possible that even the suspicion of duplicity should rest upon him, and
it would all be satisfactorily cleared up within a few days, if not
hours. The carriage was waiting on the wharf when the boat arrived, and
the whole party started for Pine Hill. When they reached the mansion,
the sheriff was conducted to the library, and all the servants were
sent for; but none of them had seen Mr. Birch after Eugene retired for
the night.
The man servant thought he heard him go out at the front door about
half past nine, but was not very sure. It was this man’s business to
see that the front door was locked, the windows fastened, and all
the fires and lights extinguished before he went to bed; and he had
attended to this duty, as usual, about ten o’clock.
“Was the front door locked?” asked the sheriff.
“No, sir.”
“Did you lock it?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because I thought Mr. Birch might be out.”
“Did you know he was out?”
“No; I only thought so, because I had heard the door open, as I said.”
“Are you sure you heard the door opened?”
“I’m not certain. There is a night lock on the door, so that it was
fastened.”
“What time does Mr. Birch usually retire?”
“About ten or eleven.”
“Why didn’t you go to his room, and see whether he was in or not?”
asked the sheriff.
“Because I didn’t want to disturb him, if he had gone to bed.”
“Then you went to bed leaving the door unlocked?”
“It was fastened by the night lock.”
“How did you find it this morning?”
“Just as I left it last night.”
“Did you go to Mr. Birch’s room this morning?”
“I never go to his room; it isn’t my business.”
“Who makes the bed?”
“The chambermaid, of course.”
The chambermaid was called. Mr. Birch’s bed had been occupied. No one
knew that he had gone out, after half past nine; no one knew that
he had not. Parkinson, the man servant in the house, was a sharp,
intelligent mulatto, imported from the city. He was strongly attached
to Dick, and did not understand what the sheriff wished to make out of
him. He did not know whether it would serve Dick best to show that he
had gone out, or that he had not gone out, at the time specified; and
he was one of those pliant witnesses who can be bent to serve a friend.
It is quite possible that, if he had comprehended the case, he would
not have “thought” that he heard the door opened at half past nine. He
was not certain of anything which was important in the matter.
Though no evidence was obtained to show that Dick was not in the house
at the time when he was alleged to have been with Buckstone, the
absence of proof to establish the fact that he was there, was vexatious
to his devoted friends. Eugene desired to see Ross Kingman, and to hear
his testimony on this interesting point; and when the sheriff departed,
it was with the promise to accompany him to the jail for this purpose.
Dr. Bilks was invited to tea. His attentions to poor Mary had already
made Eugene his friend, while his devotion to the ladies had rendered
him a welcome guest, particularly to Julia, to whom his vigorous
defence of Dick was even more than satisfactory. It was quite true that
no expressions of love had passed between Julia and Dick Birch, but it
was just as patent to the rest of the family that they were interested
in each other. So the doctor made himself popular by espousing the
cause of the absent friend.
After tea Eugene and the doctor went to the library to smoke. Though
the acquaintance between them had commenced in the forenoon of that
day, Dr. Bilks knew enough of his host’s relations with the Kingman
family to make himself a confidant, so far as these relations were
concerned; and Eugene did not scruple to speak unreservedly to him.
Indeed, now that Dick was under the shadow of a suspicion, and had
withdrawn himself from the house for a time, he congratulated himself
upon having a person at hand to whom he could speak. Eugene was not
content to let Dick bear his burden alone; and when the sheriff left,
he had sent Parkinson with a note to The Bell River House, where he
concluded his friend had gone, entreating him to come to Pine Hill. The
servant had not yet returned.
“Before I can get rid of one trouble, another is cast upon me,” said
Eugene, as he lighted his cigar.
“That is often the way in this world,” replied the doctor.
“Perhaps you think I have no right to trouble myself about this murder;
but I assure you I regard it almost as a family affair. When Mary
Kingman went off with Buckstone, I was robbed of more than half I had
to live for in this world. I haven’t been myself since.”
“Perhaps I had no right to know anything of a matter so private as
this ought to be; but as the lady’s physician, Mr. Birch gave me
full information in regard to your relations with the poor girl. I
sympathize with you. But perhaps good may come out of all these evils.”
“What good can come out of them?”
“Pardon me, if I am blunt; do you still love the lady?”
“With all my soul!” replied Eugene, fervently.
“I had hoped your foreign travel would remove the impression from your
mind.”
“It was more than an impression, Dr. Bilks. I did not know how much I
loved her till I had lost her. In spite of all that has happened, she
is the same to me now that she was a year ago, before Buckstone came
into the place.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“Why unfortunate?” demanded Eugene, earnestly.
“Well, the circumstances have changed.”
“What circumstances?”
“Whatever the truth may be, it is generally understood that she has
been a mother without being a wife.”
“True.”
“As the world goes, her reputation is blasted, and she can no longer be
received in good society.”
“She shall be received in good society!” exclaimed Eugene, leaping out
of his chair, and pacing the room with violent strides.
“I say nothing of the merits of this case. I speak only of the way of
the world,” added Dr. Bilks, mildly apologizing for repeating what he
would not advance as his own individual thought.
“I understand you, doctor. You may as well know now what all the world
shall know one of these days. Mary is still mine!” said Eugene, with
energy, as he paused before the doctor’s chair. “All earth shall not
rob me of her again!”
“I can understand your feelings,” interposed Dr. Bilks, soothingly.
“I am no hypocrite; and I could hardly conceal the joy I felt when I
heard of this murder.”
“For God’s sake, Mr. Hungerford, don’t say that,” protested the doctor.
“I feel it; why should I not say it?”
“It would not be prudent. If you expressed such a thought, people
would suspect you of instigating Ross Kingman to the commission of the
crime,” said Dr. Bilks, whose solicitude for the good name of his new
friend was fully expressed in his face.
“I do not mean joy at the murder.”
“Of course not.”
“I only rejoiced that Mary was free again. I would not have injured
Buckstone. I made Ross promise not to harm him, if he met him, though I
had no suspicion that he was in Poppleton.”
“Certainly; I understand you. But you would not think of marrying Mary
now?”
“I will think of it now, and do it as soon as the circumstances will
permit. Of course I say this to you in confidence.”
“Of course; that is fully understood.”
“I will do it if she will consent.”
“She will, without doubt.”
“She married this Buckstone under the pressure of terrible
circumstances. It was all my fault that she did so; and I will atone
for my error in the only way open to me.”
“I am afraid the public voice will condemn you.”
“Let it condemn me.”
“What do your mother and sister say?”
“I have not spoken to them. They may regret, but they will not oppose
my decision. I believe that Mary loves me now, as I love her. To me she
is as pure as she was the day she was born. My friends will object,
but I cannot help it. She shall be my wife, if she will; and if she
cannot be respected and honored as such here, I will go with her to the
farthest verge of the country in search of a home. I do not ask whether
she is a widow or a castaway. She is to me now what she has been for
years. What I say to you to-day, I shall say to her to-morrow. Let the
world condemn me, if it will. I shall live for my own heart, not for
the applause of the multitude.”
“A man with three millions can afford to be independent in such a
matter.”
“I have no three millions; I may never have.”
“Your present decision points in that direction, as I have understood
your uncle’s will.”
“Thus far the three millions have been a curse to me. Mary would have
been mine before now, if the three millions had not made me fearful of
doing a mean thing. I act independently of this prospective fortune. I
am beginning to be disgusted with it.”
“Why so?”
“Because it seems to have caused all my troubles, to have cheated Mary
out of a true love, and made her brother a murderer,” replied Eugene,
with startling emphasis. “I will make Mary my wife, though, come what
may. Doctor, you do not say that I am wrong.”
“I do not think so. You have a soul; you were born for noble deeds.
I would do just what you intend to do. If I loved her as you do, she
should be my wife in a week.”
“I shall not use any unseemly haste.”
“The three millions may yet be yours.”
“Bah!”
“If the three millions are not yours, to whom will they go?”
“Half a million will be mine; the same amount will go to my sister, to
a Dr. Lynch, and to each of three charitable associations yet to be
founded.”
“Half a million to your sister!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks.
“Yes; is there anything strange in that?” demanded Eugene.
“No; O, no! I was thinking of something; but I will not mention it. The
thought was a disagreeable one.”
“You need not fear to mention it.”
“Excuse me, I will not,” replied the doctor, blandly. “It was an
unpleasant suspicion, which does great injustice to a mutual friend. I
will not mention it, for I am sure it is utterly groundless.”
“What do you mean, doctor?”
“I am sorry I hinted it; but it flashed across my mind, and I spoke
before I thought of its meaning. I prefer to be silent.”
“You say it concerns a mutual friend--of course you mean Mr. Birch.”
“Really, Mr. Hungerford, you must pardon me. Mr. Birch is above
suspicion. If I did, for an instant, think what might be, I drove the
idea from my mind the next instant.”
“I have sent for Dick Birch, doctor. I hope he will come. You know that
his position is slightly in doubt just now. If you can say a word that
will help me to explain it, you will confer a favor upon me,” persisted
Eugene.
“If you will answer me a few questions, Mr. Hungerford, perhaps the
thought which came to me may come to you, for I will not be guilty of
causing you to suspect so true a friend as Mr. Birch.”
“Two hours ago, I would have knocked the man down who dared to say as
much as that to me,” replied Eugene.
“Then I had better be silent,” said Dr. Bilks, with a significant
smile. “He is my friend as well as yours. I am grateful to him for what
he has been to me, and what he has done for me; I would cut my tongue
out rather than utter a word to his disparagement.”
“Ask your questions, Dr. Bilks,” continued Eugene, impatiently. “If
Dick were not your friend, I would not hear you.”
“He is my friend, and I love and respect him. I would rather injure
myself than injure him. If the thought which came to me does not come
to you, I shall rejoice to feel that I was mistaken. Indeed, I feel so
now.”
“Go on, doctor. If I am blind, open my eyes.”
“According to Ross Kingman’s story, the man who was with Buckstone
offered a consideration to him if he would marry Mary, and thus remove
all legal doubts in regard to the union.”
“Ross told the sheriff the same story.”
“Do you know of any man in the world who has anything to gain by that
marriage?”
“I do not. If Dick Birch hired Buckstone to marry her, it was in order
to make her an honest woman. He proposed such a plan to me last night,
and I assented to it. For her sake I desired it. I loved her, and I
would have done anything to save her from even a day of misery.”
“Suppose, on further examination, the marriage had proved to be illegal
and void, and that Buckstone had wholly deserted and abandoned her.
What would you have done?” asked the doctor, looking sharply into the
eye of Eugene.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you have married her?”
“She would not have consented while Buckstone was alive.”
“Would you, if she consented?”
“I would.”
“So I supposed.”
“Why should you suppose so?”
“Before you returned, I had a conversation with Mr. Birch. We both
agreed that you would marry her, in spite of her position before the
world.”
“I confess that such a thought occurred to me, even before I sailed
from Liverpool.”
“I did not know you personally, Mr. Hungerford; but from your friend’s
eloquent description of your noble, but--you will pardon me--slightly
eccentric character, I had no doubt that Mary would become Mrs.
Hungerford, if she could lawfully be your wife. Mr. Birch was equally,
or rather more, confident, from his better knowledge of you.”
“What was Dick’s opinion of such a marriage?”
“He condemned it with all his might, while I favored it. We discussed
the matter for hours together in this room.”
“Why did he condemn it?”
“Because it would lower you in the estimation of the world; because you
would be pointed at as the _millionnaire_ who had married a--never mind
what he called her.”
“Did he dare----”
“No, no, Mr. Hungerford; it was nothing very bad; a castaway--that was
all.”
“But, after all, Dick was only thinking of my good name and reputation;
it was kind of him, even if he was mistaken.”
“Certainly it was; I honored him for his manly course, though I
differed from him.”
“Is this the thought which I was expected to divine?”
“No, by no means. Did you ever observe that Mr. Birch was attentive to
your sister?”
“Well, rather so; I think they are inclined to be fond of each other.
I have noticed it more since we returned than before,” replied Eugene,
still struggling to grasp the mysterious thought which had darkened the
mind of his companion.
“Mr. Birch was opposed to your marrying Mary; and he feared that you
would marry her.”
“Just so.”
“Naturally enough, he would prevent it.”
“Very likely; he openly proposed to me to compel Buckstone to marry
her, on penalty of a criminal prosecution. If he was the person with
Buckstone last night, there was nothing dishonorable or unfriendly in
his conduct, for his action was consistent with the course upon which
we had agreed.”
“Did you authorize him to purchase Buckstone’s compliance?”
“No, I did not; but that does not materially affect the question.”
“It does not: I only wish to establish the point that Mr. Birch desired
to bring about the marriage of Mary with Buckstone.”
“We grant that.”
“Why did he desire it?”
“For Mary’s sake; for mine, too, if you please. Both considerations
were honorable and friendly towards me.”
“Entirely so, Mr. Hungerford,” said the doctor, warmly. “One more
question, if you please. Did you ever say anything to Mr. Birch about
marrying, when Mary was utterly lost to you? or could he, from his
thorough knowledge of your disposition and character, have formed a
correct idea as to whether you would or would not marry another?”
Dr. Bilks looked interested and anxious when he proposed the question.
“I told him in so many words, before I went to Europe, that I should
not marry at all, as Mary could not be mine; and he knew me well enough
to believe what I said. The last thing I said to him was to the effect
that the three millions could never be mine.”
“Exactly so; he told me, if you did not marry Mary, you would never
marry. If at the age of thirty you have no son, what becomes of the
three millions, did you say?”
“Half a million goes to me, half a million to my sister----”
“Did you intimate that you thought Mr. Birch and your sister were
disposed to be fond of each other?” interposed Dr. Bilks, in a kind of
careless, indifferent manner.
Eugene sprang to his feet. His face was deadly pale, and his lip
quivered. He had grasped the doctor’s mysterious thought. Dick Birch
wished to prevent the possibility of his marriage with Mary, that,
with Julia, he might obtain the fortune of half a million! It was a
disgusting, revolting suspicion, and he was sick at heart.