THE ROPE AND THE WEIGHT.
To say that Mr. Richard Birch was unhappy as he tossed upon his bed
that night, would not appropriately express his mental condition. He
was not unhappy; he was vexed, perplexed, annoyed. He had devoted
his first spare time since the murder to an investigation of the
circumstances attending the event. The result of his inquiries was only
evidence against himself.
But Dick was not unhappy--not troubled in spirit--only perplexed in
mind. The Beatitudes have blessings for all but the wicked; and he who
suffers most, being still innocent and pure, has most blessings. In
spite of all the appearances, real and constructive, which were arrayed
against him, his spirit did not falter. If what was external and beyond
himself discouraged him, there was no loss of power in his soul. He had
faith in the truth, and was satisfied that even his good name would be
vindicated.
He tossed upon his bed all night long--not in misery and self-reproach,
but as he who invents a machine, and is troubled to make one part
harmonize with another. He did some tremendous thinking. He was
struggling to solve a problem: to read the meagre hieroglyphical facts
which the murder case presented. Twenty times, during the five hours
he lay upon his bed, he drew up before him the naked facts, divesting
them, as well as he could, of the opinions and prejudices with which
they had been clothed. They bore fearfully upon himself. He could
not invest the myth of Dr. Bilks’s baby with even the semblance of
reality. The story of the child and the mother was too flimsy to be
believed. If he could ascertain beyond the possibility of a doubt where
the doctor had spent the hours between nine and two on the night of the
murder, the case would be almost made out. But the people of Poppleton
usually slept after nine o’clock, and no one had yet been found except
Hubbard, who was out at the time.
The rope and the weight did not at first appear to possess much
significance to him. Buckstone might have used them as cable and
anchor to moor the boat, and lost them overboard. They might have been
employed for another purpose, which suggested itself to the thinker.
When he rose in the morning, even before the sun was up, he hastened to
the house of Mr. Bangs, the deputy sheriff. The official was not up,
but anything relating to the murder was enough to draw him from his
bed, even in the middle of the night.
“You are up early, Mr. Birch,” said the deputy sheriff, as he joined
the visitor in the parlor.
“I did not sleep a wink last night,” replied Dick.
“I am sorry for that.”
“No doubt I shall sleep better when this business assumes a more
definite shape.”
“We were all a good deal surprised, Mr. Birch, when you swore that you
were not with Buckstone that night.”
“I know of no good reason why you should have been surprised. I
can only say now, as I said then, I am not the person who was with
Buckstone.”
“I hope for your sake you were not. If you hadn’t denied it, nobody
would have thought it was not all right.”
“You are entitled to the benefit of your own opinion, Mr. Bangs. So far
as I appear to be implicated in anything which I deny, I am willing to
wait till the truth comes out.”
“That’s all any of us can do.”
“I intend to inquire into this matter till I get at the truth, either
with or without your assistance.”
“O, I am ready to do anything which will help uncover the matter.”
“That’s my business with you just now. You found the boat in which the
two men went over to the island?”
“I did, as everybody knows.”
“You ascertained to whom the boat belonged.”
“Yes; it was Brown’s boat.”
“Of course you were informed that some articles were missing from the
boat.”
“The painter and one fifty-six.”
“Have you found these articles?”
“No.”
“Have you looked for them?”
“Not particularly. We have looked for everything we could find.”
“Have you any idea of the use to which the rope and the weight were
applied?”
“Not the least in the world.”
“Perhaps these articles, if found, might throw some light upon the
subject.”
“Very true. I will search the shore again.”
“Of course you will not find them on the shore. If you please, I will
assist in the search.”
The deputy sheriff looked as though he wanted to say that, if any man
knew where to search for the rope and weight, Mr. Birch was the person;
but he was polite enough not to say that, and it was agreed that the
investigation should be commenced immediately after breakfast. Dick
started for the hotel. On the way he passed the house of the town
clerk. That functionary was at work in his garden, and the inquirer
stopped to satisfy himself in regard to the record of the birth and
death of Dr. Bilks’s baby. The official was communicative, and gave him
all the information he required, verifying his statements by taking the
early visitor into his office, and exhibiting the books.
Dr. Bilks either had such a case as he represented, at the Settlement,
or he had left no stone unturned to establish the apparent truth of
what he asserted. Though the story was too ridiculous to be believed,
Dick could not help thinking, once in a while, in the course of his
investigations, that it was possible the doctor might be honest and
conscientious.
Dick’s relations with the cashier of the Poppleton Bank were in
the highest degree pleasant and intimate. As the business man of
Eugene Hungerford, Mr. Birch might make or unmake the bank. Some of
the progressive and enterprising people of the Mills had already
agitated the question of establishing a bank in the other village. Mr.
Hungerford’s agent had influence enough with his employer to induce
him to favor the new institution; therefore Mr. Birch was treated with
profound deference and respect by the officials of the Poppleton Bank.
Dick called at the house of the cashier, after he left that of the town
clerk. It was mean and low to inquire impertinently into any man’s
personal and private affairs, and nothing but the ends of justice could
permit Dick to ask, or the cashier to answer, any questions in relation
to Dr. Bilks’s balance at the bank.
Dick Birch did ask, and the cashier did answer, such questions, solely
in the interests of justice. The balance was between nine and ten
thousand dollars. The cashier promised to inform Birch if this balance
was reduced by the payment of any check greater than one thousand
dollars. Dick left the cashier with the feeling that, if Sandy McGuire
suddenly became a rich man, he should be promptly notified of the fact.
But even now, Dick was not quite satisfied with what he had done, and
he employed a smart young fellow, in whom he could place confidence,
to watch Sandy McGuire, and follow him wherever he went. Having done
all these things, he ate his breakfast and went down to the river.
The sheriff was there, with three men whom he had employed for the
occasion, and in two small boats they embarked for The Great Bell.
These men were provided with grapnels, boat-hooks, eel-spears, and
other apparatus, to be used in ascertaining what was upon the bottom
of the channel in the vicinity of the cliff from which Buckstone had
been precipitated into the water.
Though the sheriff was the commanding presence of the occasion, Dick
Birch furnished all the theories and suggestions. They were fishing
for the rope and the weight, and the position and condition in which
they might be found were expected to add another link in the testimony
either for or against the identity of the stranger with Birch. Two men
in one boat with the sheriff dragged a grapnel; Dick and another man,
in the other boat, used eel-spears, with which they expected to fasten
upon the rope. It was a tedious operation; and there was nothing which
was in the slightest degree romantic or interesting about it. All they
hoped to find was the rope and weight, and there was nothing even
horrible about these articles.
“I’ve got sunthin,” said Hubbard, the fisherman, who occupied the boat
with Dick.
“So have I,” replied Birch, who had too often been disappointed during
the morning to be very hopeful.
“I’ve got hold of sunthin heavy,” continued Hubbard, as he tugged away
at the eel-spear.
Dick hauled up a large, heavy piece of kelp at the same moment, as he
had done fifty times before. It was nearly noon, and he was almost
discouraged. The channel had been dragged, and there was little hope of
finding anything. They were now at work directly under the cliff from
which Buckstone had been thrown.
“Pull it up, and see what you have,” said Dick, as he disengaged the
kelp from his spear.
“I cal’late I’ve got hold of sunthin heavier than a devil’s apron
this time,” continued Hubbard, as Dick turned his attention to the
operations of his companion.
“Pull away.”
“I’m a little afeard it will give way, Mr. Birch. Jest you take that
long-handled boat-hook, and kinder stidy it, when I pull. I cal’late I
got hold of sunthin this time.”
Dick was interested, though not very hopeful, and he thrust the
boat-hook down till he grappled the object to which Hubbard had
fastened with the spear.
“You’ve got it, Mr. Birch. I can feel it ease up when you pull. Don’t
yank it, Mr. Birch; pull kinder stidy. That’s it! Now it gives.”
“Pull away!” said Dick, beginning to be a little excited by the
prospect of something, which from the feeling could not be kelp.
“Don’t be in a hurry, Mr. Birch; if we lose it, we might fish all day
without gittin hold on’t agin. I cal’late we’ve got hold of sunthin
this time; and don’t le’s lose it,” said the cautious fisherman.
“Stidy, now. There it comes. It’s a rope as sure as you’re alive!”
“Take hold of it with your hands,” added Dick, when the rope came in
sight.
“There’s something tied to the end of it. There it comes.”
“It’s nothing but a stone.”
The rope was drawn into the boat. There was a stone attached to it,
which was taken in. As they pulled on the line, it was observed that
the boat moved towards the middle of the channel, drawn in that
direction by some heavier weight attached to the other end of the rope.
“There ’tis,” said Hubbard, triumphantly. “I cal’late we’ve got the
rope, if that’s what you want.”
“But there is something attached to the other end of it,” replied Dick,
as he pulled on the line.
“I cal’late there is; the fifty-six is hitched to that end. Though what
in natur the stone is for, I don’t know,” said Hubbard. “Don’t yank
it, Mr. Birch; you may twitch it off. I cal’late we’d better tell the
sheriff, and let him see to the rest on’t.”
Mr. Bangs, already satisfied by the appearances in Dick’s boat that
something had transpired, ordered his men to pull in that direction.
“We have found the rope, Mr. Bangs,” said Dick.
“Have you? Are you sure it is the one?”
“It is a whale line, answering to the description of the one that was
lost. We have got only one end of it; the other end seems to hang to
the bottom.”
“What’s that stone for?” asked the sheriff, as his boat was hauled up
alongside of the other.
“I don’t know; probably to sink this end; but let us pull it up, and
ascertain what there is at the other end.”
Two men took hold of the whale line and pulled. The weight attached
to the other end was very heavy. It was more than a fifty-six pound
weight, and every one was intensely excited as fathom after fathom was
hauled into the boat.
“I cal’late we’ve got sunthin’,” said Hubbard, who would have choked to
death if he could not speak. “Stidy! stidy! don’t yank.”
The object could now be seen, and the men turned pale, and looked
horrified. Even the stout-hearted sheriff wore an expression of painful
anxiety upon his face, as though he wished some other person might have
been called upon to perform this disagreeable duty. Birch was sick, and
turned in disgust from the horrible sight.
It was horrible--it was a human body!
It was a headless trunk!
“Stop!” said Mr. Bangs. “We will not haul it into the boat. Secure it
at the stern, and we will tow it to the beach.”
The men obeyed in silence, and both boats pulled to the beach. When
the corpse touched upon the sand, it was dragged to the shore. The
whale line had been passed around the middle of the body, and through
the ring of the fifty-six, evidently so that the weight would keep the
corpse in a horizontal position on the bottom of the channel.
The head was gone, and the flesh had been gnawed away by the fishes.
It was a hideous object to look upon, and heart and flesh crept with
horror as the eyes gazed upon it. The sheriff sent two of the men for
the coroner, and covering the body with a sail from one of the boats,
retired from the loathsome object, to await the arrival of the proper
official.
“This appears to alter the whole aspect of the case,” said Dick Birch,
as they walked away from the corpse.
“Yes,” replied Bangs, rather curtly.
“Do you know whose body it is?”
“Buckstone’s, of course.”
“It may be Goodwin’s.”
“In my opinion it is Buckstone’s. The man who was with him the night he
was killed did all this work.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“I hope he didn’t cut the head off,” added Bangs, with a look of horror
and disgust.
“I hope not.”
“What we have found out to-day will make it all the worse for the man
who was with Buckstone.”
“That is plain enough.”
The sheriff glanced at Dick with a look of mingled pity and
astonishment.
“I am sorry for you, Mr. Birch,” said Bangs, apparently unable to
conceal his thoughts any longer.
“Why for me?”
“Isn’t it clear to you that the person who came down here with
Buckstone helped to murder him?”
“It looks like it. And you mean to add, that you think I am the person?”
“I certainly think so.”
“Do you believe, if I had known where this body was, that I would have
asked you to come down here, and bring it up from the bottom before my
very eyes?”
“Mr. Birch, I don’t wish to say much about the matter just now; but it
looks very bad. It may suit your purpose to have this body found now.
All I’ve got to say is, that the man who was with Buckstone helped to
do the job,” replied Bangs, walking away from him.
It seemed to Dick Birch, just then, that every thing he did to bring
out the truth in regard to the murder more deeply involved himself.
The very finding of the body by his agency was construed to his
disadvantage.
The coroner came with a jury, with constables, with doctors, with
witnesses. It required a whole squadron of boats to bring over the
little army of interested persons, who flocked to see the loathsome
object which had been dragged from its resting-place in the channel.
Dr. Bilks, Dr. Hobhed, and Dr. White were summoned to view the body,
and procure the medical testimony in regard to the death of the
deceased. Only one of all this multitude attracted the attention of
Dick Birch--Dr. Bilks. He watched him with the most intense interest.
But the doctor presented nothing very noticeable in his looks and
manners, except a disposition to be rather more jovial than seemed
proper on such an occasion. He was a little paler than usual, though he
smiled whenever he spoke, and manifested little or no feeling in the
presence of the dead; but he was a doctor, and was familiar with such
scenes.
The corpse was viewed by the doctors first. They looked for bruises and
marks; but they found none. The head, upon which the fatal blow had
been struck, was gone. The medical gentlemen were perfectly satisfied
that the head had been removed with a knife, and by a person who had
some knowledge of anatomy. The clothes were then examined by the
sheriff and coroner. The deceased wore snuff-colored pants, and vest,
and a sporting coat, with peculiar buttons. On the little finger of
each hand there was a ring, one of which was identified by the clerk
of the Bell River House as belonging to Mr. Buckstone. His watch was
recognized by two or three witnesses, who had been brought over for the
purpose.
The coat, vest, and cravat were removed, and sent up to Mary, who
identified them as Mr. Buckstone’s. The linen had the initials E. B.
upon it. The contents of the pockets were various. A porte-monnaie
and a pocket-book, both of which contained the name of the deceased,
established the identity of Mr. Buckstone. But the most interesting and
conclusive testimony obtained upon the headless trunk consisted of a
couple of letters. They were soaked with water, but their contents were
still legible after they had been dried in the sun.
The coroner’s jury, having “viewed the body” in due form of law, went
over to the Town Hall to hear the case, and make up their verdict,
while the remains were placed in the care of an undertaker. When the
inquest was opened, the doctors were first called upon for their
testimony. What was purely surgical we have already given. Dr. Bilks
added to his evidence some portions of the conversation which had taken
place between Dick Birch and himself the preceding evening. He had
advised Mr. Birch to tell the whole truth, which Mr. Birch declined to
do. Mr. Birch had asked his advice in regard to his future course, and
he (Dr. Bilks), having, of course, no idea that he was implicated in
the murder, had advised him to leave Poppleton.
“Did Mr. Birch deny that he was the person with the deceased?” asked
the coroner.
“He did, but not with so much energy as formerly,” replied the doctor.
“What was your impression, derived from this interview?”
“I am not willing to give my impressions; they might injure Mr. Birch,
who has been, and still is, my friend; but I told him I was afraid he
was more deeply implicated than any one yet suspected.”
“And you advised him to leave town--did you?” continued the coroner.
“I did; but, as I said before, I did not suspect him of complicity in
the murder.”
Dick Birch was almost stunned by this evidence, so glaringly false, his
real words so purposely twisted to meet the villain’s ends. By this
time Eugene Hungerford had arrived. He was summoned to the stand the
moment he entered the room. He testified as at the examination.
“Mr. Hungerford, you were afraid Ross Kingman would kill Buckstone if
he met him?”
“I was; but I had no suspicion that Buckstone was in Poppleton, then.”
“Did you mention your fears to Mr. Birch?”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing of any consequence.”
The letters were produced. They were directed to “Mr. Eliot Buckstone,
New York City,” and one of them bore the post-mark of Poppleton; the
other was from Providence. The Poppleton letter was opened and read by
the coroner. The last part of it was as follows:--
If you will marry the girl again, I will insure you five thousand
dollars, and possibly you may have double that sum. Come and see
me, at all events. Leave the train at Newington, and come over
privately--after dark. Don’t fail to come.
Yours truly,
RICHARD BIRCH.
Hungerford was shocked, stunned, overwhelmed. This letter had been
taken from the pocket of the dead man by the sheriff.
“I did not write that letter, Hungerford,” said Dick, calmly, as he was
called to the stand.
“You are a lawyer, sir; I need not tell you that you are not bound to
criminate yourself,” said the coroner.
“You need not,” replied Dick, significantly.
“Did you write this letter?”
“I did not.”
“It bears your signature.”
“Will you let me look at it?”
It was handed to him.
“This is not my writing.”
“Did you ever write a letter to Mr. Buckstone?”
“I did.”
“More than one?”
“Only one.”
“What was it about?”
“I wrote it at Ross Kingman’s request. I threatened Buckstone with a
criminal prosecution.”
“Did you look at the envelope of this letter?”
“The superscription is in my handwriting. The date in the post-mark
is not legible; but I have no doubt this envelope is the one in which
I sent the only letter I ever wrote to Mr. Buckstone. This is not my
writing, though it looks something like it, and the paper is different
from that I always use.”
Dr. Bilks gave a sudden start, as though he had thought of something
forgotten or neglected. Hungerford saw him, and without signifying his
intention to any one, left the hall. Dr. Bilks soon followed him.
The evidence was all heard, and the jury began to consider their
verdict. The body was that of Eliot Buckstone; he had been killed by
Ross Kingman. So far they had no doubt. One of the six men suggested
that the verdict should include the name of Richard Birch, who aided
and abetted in the murder. The others would not agree to it; the
evidence did not justify such a verdict. Birch might be an accessory
after the fact, for he must have aided in mutilating and concealing the
body. Another intimated that Birch had gone over to the island, and
induced Buckstone to meet Ross Kinsman, believing that he would murder
him. Birch left the hall before the verdict was made up, confident that
he should be arrested within a few hours.