THE SHADOW AT PINE HILL.
Eugene Hungerford went to the office of Dr. Bilks when he left the town
hall. Even the tremendous assaults made there upon his faith in Dick
Birch had not shaken the citadel. The testimony of his friend in regard
to the letter was suggestive to him, and he determined to act without
delay. The look and the start of Dr. Bilks had not escaped his notice.
Dr. Bilks’s office was not closed; for he kept a boy to take care of
his rooms, run of errands, and receive messages during his absence.
Eugene walked in, went to the desk, and taking a half quire of paper
from a shelf, proceeded to write a note to Julia; not that he had
anything to say to her, but simply for the purpose of obtaining a sheet
of the paper for future use. While he was thus engaged, Dr. Bilks, who
had left the town hall a moment later, entered the office.
“Ah, Mr. Hungerford!” exclaimed the doctor.
“How do you do, doctor? I have taken the liberty to use your desk for a
moment, in writing a note to my sister.”
“Certainly; but I am afraid you find no proper materials for writing.”
“O, yes. Here is a whole ream of paper on this shelf,” replied
Hungerford.
“But that is very poor paper. Let me provide you with some better.”
Dr. Bilks had half a ream in his hand, which he had just purchased. He
opened the package, and insisted that his unwelcome visitor should use
some of it.
“That is very good paper, doctor; but I like this better,” replied
Eugene, as he folded up his note, which included an extra sheet, and
hastily thrust it into an envelope.
“Do me the favor to use some of this paper. It is a whim of mine; but
you will indulge me,” added the doctor, whose ill-concealed emotion did
not escape the keen glance of the visitor.
“This paper exactly suits my purpose, doctor. I am very much obliged to
you; but it is my whim to send the note just as I have written it.”
Dr. Bilks would probably have said a great deal more if Parkinson had
not at that moment entered the office, and interrupted the conversation.
“I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Hungerford,” said the man. “Mrs.
Hungerford sent me down to tell you that Mr. Lester, from Baltimore,
had just arrived.”
“Mr. Lester!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks, apparently very much annoyed at the
intelligence.
“Do you know Mr. Lester, Dr. Bilks?” asked Eugene.
“I do not. I am acquainted with his son, who was in college with me, as
I told you.”
“I will return soon,” said Eugene to the servant.
Dr. Bilks had thrown himself into a chair, and looked like a man who
was discouraged--like a man who had purchased half a ream of paper,
which could be of no earthly service to him.
Hungerford had accomplished his mission at the doctor’s office. As he
went out, he saw Sandy McGuire going in.
“Do you wish to see me, Sandy?”
“No, your honor.”
“You are not ready to tell the truth yet.”
“I am, faix! Sure, it’s nothin but the blessed truth I been tellin your
honor from the big’nin.”
Eugene left him. Sandy had not yet seen the doctor, who, in
Hungerford’s opinion, would give one half of all he had in the bank for
the paper on which the note to Julia had been written, and the other
half to keep Sandy’s tongue still.
Dick Birch was just coming out of the town hall, when Eugene joined him.
“Where are those letters, Dick?” demanded Hungerford.
“The coroner has them.”
“I must see him.”
“Hungerford, I shall be arrested before night,” said Dick, with
wonderful calmness.
“Arrested!” exclaimed Eugene, to whose mind such a proceeding had not
yet presented itself.
“The sheriff, the coroner, and the jury, in my opinion, think I had a
hand in the murder. Hungerford, the shadow darkens over me. I am the
man who cut off Buckstone’s head after he was killed, and I sank the
body in the channel.”
“You!”
“They think so.”
“Dick, there is my hand; my heart is in it. You understand me.”
“I do!” exclaimed Birch, as he grasped the offered hand. “One such
friend is all I ask.”
Dick was more deeply moved than Hungerford had ever observed him to be
before.
The coroner’s jury were still engaged in discussing the verdict.
Hungerford saw the sheriff, and procured the Poppleton letter. The
paper was the same as that on which Eugene had just written the note to
his sister. The quality, ruling, and stamp were identical, and there
was room to believe that the letter to Buckstone had been written in
Dr. Bilks’s office. Several notes written by Mr. Birch were found. They
were not written upon this paper.
In half an hour Dr. Bilks appeared again. He was apparently desperate.
The case was not working right, and he had come to look after it. He
heard what was said about the paper. He laughed at it. Probably Mr.
Birch had written the letter in his office; he was often there; and
Mr. Birch would not deny that he had frequently written letters at his
desk. If it did not look exactly like Mr. Birch’s usual handwriting, it
was probably because he had used a pen to which he was not accustomed.
No one could say that the stained and hardly legible letter was not
written by Mr. Birch.
“Mr. Sheriff,” said Dr. Bilks, when he had disposed of the letter to
his own satisfaction, “I came here for another purpose. I have come to
acknowledge that I made a great mistake.”
Everybody looked at the doctor.
“If not too late, I should like to add something to my testimony--
something of the utmost importance.”
The coroner was informed of the fact, and the case was reopened. Dr.
Bilks was put upon the stand.
“I am obliged to leave town early in the morning, for New York. I shall
return in a week. Before I go, I wish to set myself right with God and
man; for I have done wrong.”
People thought that the doctor was very conscientious, and wondered
what could rest so heavily upon his mind.
“You wish to correct your testimony?” said the coroner.
“Not to correct it--to add to it. Mr. Birch has been my best friend in
Poppleton.”
Everybody knew this to be true.
“I am very grateful to him for his kindness to me. My feeling has
been that I would rather die than injure him. That was my feeling
when I stood on the stand. I have not told the whole truth. I confess
it with shame; but it was only to save my friend from disagreeable
consequences. On the night of the murder, I saw Mr. Birch, as I drove
along the Point Road, with Buckstone. I have kept this back before.”
“Why did you keep it back?”
“Because I preferred that Mr. Birch’s connection with Buckstone, since
he denied it, should be proved by others.”
But even this strong evidence did not create much sensation. It only
added another grain of testimony to what everybody believed before.
“Do you know when Mr. Birch returned from The Great Bell?”
“I do not.”
Dr. Bilks had conquered. Dick Birch was arrested, and hurried off to
the Summerville jail, to the great grief and indignation of Eugene,
who could not even bail him out until morning. The men of power in
Poppleton were stern and inflexible, even to superstition, in the
discharge of their official duties. But the people, among whom Dick had
not been very popular, were prepared for this result. He was a villain
of the first water now, who had been plotting to obtain half a million
of Hungerford’s expected fortune. It was a righteous retribution upon
him; and pious men and women went to bed that night more than ever
convinced that the way of the transgressor is hard, and that the evil
man shall not prosper in his way.
Eugene Hungerford went home to Pine Hill, and told the eminent merchant
from Baltimore what had happened to his friend. Mr. Lester made a
great many sage reflections, advised his host carefully to examine all
his books and papers, assuring him that he would find some startling
defalcation, and severely censured him for placing so much confidence
even in his best friend.
“All men are human, Mr. Hungerford--all men are human,” said the
eminent trustee, shaking his head.
“But I believe Mr. Birch is an honest man. I know he is!” protested
Eugene.
“You delude yourself. You have tempted this Birch as no man ever was
tempted before. It would have been strange if he had not fallen. I am
afraid you are to blame. I never quite liked Mr. Birch’s manner of
doing business. When I return to Baltimore, I will send you a precise
account of all the drafts I have forwarded to him and to you. In my
opinion, you will yet have an action for embezzlement against him. As
you grow older, you will grow wiser. You will learn to trust no man.”
“But he is not charged with wronging me.”
“It is all the same, Mr. Hungerford. In my opinion, he is guilty.”
Eugene was out of patience with the eminent trustee, who was a
cold-blooded man of business.
Julia was terribly distressed on account of Dick’s misfortunes: and as
she listened to Mr. Lester’s comments upon him, she was sick at heart.
She knew not what to believe, or what to disbelieve. Later in the
evening, Mr. Lester resumed the subject, deeming it his duty to fortify
the young _millionnaire_ against the sin of trusting others, fully
believing that Eugene was in danger of being swindled out of all he had
and all he would have. He did his duty faithfully, and there was not
much left of Dick Birch when he had finished his wordy harangue.
Mr. Lester had listened to all the evidence on both sides; and when
Eugene ventured to suggest that Dr. Bilks was a villain, the eminent
trustee warmly defended him.
The next day, Eugene, contrary to Mr. Lester’s advice, and to his
great disgust, bailed Dick, who was discharged from custody. Dr. Bilks
had left by the morning train for New York. After dinner the eminent
merchant went to sleep, and Eugene hastened down to the Port to see
Dick. He found him at the hotel, rather blue, but not hopeless.
“Has anything new come out?” asked Eugene.
“Dr. Bilks drew five thousand dollars from the bank last night.”
The bank opened at all hours in Poppleton.
“Of course, then, Sandy McGuire is a rich man by this time.”
“No doubt of it.”
“I think we had better go and see Sandy now.”
They went; but Sandy McGuire had left town.
He had hired one of his neighbors to convey himself and wife to
Newington the evening before. Eugene sent the shrewdest man he could
find in Poppleton to follow him. The messenger returned in a week with
no tidings of him. When it was too late, Eugene blamed himself for not
acting more decisively. Dr. Bilks had effectually cut off the only
means by which his presence at Sandy’s house on the night of the murder
could be proved or disproved.
“Hungerford,” said Dick, on their return from the settlement, “Dr.
Bilks is too great a villain for me. I have been weak. I did not strike
when I should have struck; and when I struck, I did not strike hard
enough.”
“Never mind, Dick; it will all come out right.”
“I have never doubted that; but for the present I stand in a very
bad situation. Everything I have done thus far has made the doctor
stronger, and me weaker.”
“By no means, Dick. Dr. Bilks will yet hang himself.”
“I do not doubt it, Hungerford. I have followed these developments far
enough to know their bearing. Can you tell me of what I am accused?”
“Simply of being an accessory after the fact.”
“But what is the theory in men’s minds? What motives do they attribute
to me?”
“I have heard all that has been urged against you. The theory is, that
you went with Buckstone to the island to procure the re-marriage of
Mary and himself. You are a justice of the peace. Some say you went to
marry the parties if Mary consented.”
“That is a new idea to me.”
“It is a mere supposition. While you were there, Buckstone was killed.
Some think you were in the confidence of Ross, and helped do the deed.”
“Then, of course, if I wanted to kill him, my designs upon Julia and
her half million fall to the ground.”
“Only a few take this view; and these the most ignorant and
unreflecting. The general opinion is, that you sunk the body to conceal
the crime of Ross, and without his knowledge. The justice who issued
the warrant for your arrest takes this view.”
“Including the diabolical idea that I chopped off the head of the dead
man,” added Birch, with a shudder.
“No one pretends to explain that.”
“I might have done all the rest, in a good cause, but I couldn’t have
done that. It makes me sick to think of it.”
“Then don’t think of it.”
“What shall be done, Hungerford?”
“I hardly know. We can do nothing but wait. If you feel uncomfortable
here, you can leave town for a week. The examination cannot take place
till Dr. Bilks returns.”
“I will not leave town. I will not shrink. I shall show myself every
day to the people.”
“Then attend to business as usual. Come up to Pine Hill----”
“No, Hungerford!”
“Attend to my affairs as usual. I shall build two more houses at the
Port.”
Dick would not dodge, even under the pressure to which he was
subjected. Nothing could be done but wait the progress of events; and
he devoted himself to the model houses, and other operations of Eugene.
Dr. Bilks was absent a week. On the day before his return, Mr. Lester
departed, thus depriving himself of the pleasure of meeting the man
who loved justice better than he loved his friend; for this was the
flourish with which Mr. Lester described him. During this week, Eugene
had devoted himself principally to his guest, driving him to all the
towns within ten miles of Poppleton, showing him the factories, the
ship-yards, and the salt works, and taking him on the large yacht as
far out to sea as Mr. Lester’s susceptible stomach would permit.
The eminent trustee was pleased with his visit, and delighted with
the Hungerford family. It is true he feared that Eugene was not quite
so shrewd as he should be to possess such immense wealth. He was too
sentimental; too willing to believe that human nature was not corrupt
and wholly irreclaimable; too much disposed to trust men who assumed
to be his friends. But the wise and worldly old gentleman was hopeful,
and believed that he would put away childish things in due time. He
counselled him to shake off “that Birch,” whom the whole town, with one
voice, condemned as a worthless, designing fellow. He saw no objection
now to Eugene’s helping him out of his troubles, and even being his
friend, until he could decently get rid of him.
But the one thing which troubled Mr. Lester more than all others, more
than even his confiding friendship for “that Birch,” was his relation
to Mary Kingman. The solid man of Baltimore was terribly severe upon
this proposed connection; it was so disgraceful that he could not
tolerate it. He pitied the poor girl; he would give her money, get her
a situation; do anything for her, except make her his wife.
Eugene heard all this with what patience he could command, and did not
weep when the old gentleman, with many stately compliments, departed
for Baltimore. Mr. Lester was an old-fashioned man of the world. He
never went against the popular current; he never stood by his friends
after the rest of the world had deserted them; and he never made war
upon the people’s prejudices. He was gone and Eugene escaped his daily
lecture on worldly wisdom.
All that had been said about Mary by Mr. Lester, by Mrs. Hungerford and
Julia, and by Dick Birch, had not cured Eugene of his love. The vision
which had haunted his imagination for long years was still present in
his mind, and not a day, hardly an hour, passed in which he did not
think of her. He could not deny, even to himself, that she was not what
she had been; but she was not contaminated, she was not deprived of
any virtue he had prized; she was still an angel. She had bestowed on
another the caresses which should have been only his; for this he was
grieved--for this only. But she was still Mary, still the being he had
loved; and even with the knowledge that she had been in other arms than
his own, she was more to him than any other could be.
He had seen her but once since the examination of her brother--on
the afternoon of that day. He had talked only commonplaces then. He
said nothing of his love, nothing of his intentions. The conversation
related mostly to Ross and his trial. Julia had visited her several
times; on the last occasion she had taken a violent cold, and on the
day before Mr. Lester’s departure, she had been confined to her room,
threatened with a fever. Eugene heard from Mary often, therefore; for
during his guest’s stay, he had no opportunity to repeat his own visit.
Julia grew worse. Her mother began to be alarmed about her, and sent
for Dr. White, a young practitioner, who had charge of Dr. Bilks’s
patients during his absence. Her symptoms did not yield to the usual
remedies, and Mrs. Hungerford was not satisfied with the physician. On
the morning after Mr. Lester’s departure, the indications were still
less hopeful. Julia had been delirious during the night, and in the
morning she was stupid and wandering in her mind.
“We must have another physician, Eugene,” said Mrs. Hungerford, at
breakfast time. “Dr. White does not understand the case.”
“Certainly, mother; but whom shall we have?”
“Could you get Dr. Hobhed?”
“I will try.”
Eugene hastened to the dilapidated mansion of the author of the
“Chemical Theory.” He was in his library, and the visitor was shown
into the apartment.
“Good morning, Dr. Hobhed,” said Eugene.
The philosopher did not raise his head from his book. Eugene spoke
again, and touched his shoulder.
“O, Mr. Hungerford!” said he, rather vacantly. “I am glad you have
come. Sit down, and I will explain the chemical theory to you.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Hobhed. My sister is very sick.”
“You are aware that certain sea shells have been found in coal
mines----”
“Excuse me, Mr. Hobhed,” interrupted Eugene. “Will you go and see my
sister?”
“These sea shells prove that the salt water----”
“I cannot stay to listen to your theory now. My sister is very sick.”
“Salt water is the principle from which all minerals have been created.”
“Will you go and see my sister?”
“All minerals exist in salt water. Gold and silver can be extracted
from salt water, when----”
Eugene interrupted him again. It was impossible to get an idea into his
head outside of the “chemical theory,” and the visitor departed. There
was no other physician at the Port, and Eugene returned to Pine Hill.
There were two doctors at the Mills, and while they were considering
which of them should be called, Dr. Bilks drove up to the door. It was
evident that he had just come from the railroad station.
“Shall we have Dr. Bilks?” asked Eugene of his mother.
“Certainly; he is a very skilful physician,” replied Mrs. Hungerford,
all of whose doubts seemed now to be removed.
“I believe he is a villain.”
“All we want is his medical skill.”
“As you please, mother.”
Dr. Bilks had already been shown to the library; and when Eugene
appeared, he was warmly greeted by the doctor, as though nothing had
occurred to mar the harmony of their relations.
“I called up to see you for a moment, before I go to the office. I have
just returned from New York. I am very sorry not to have met your
friend Mr. Lester,” said the doctor, as volubly as ever.
“I am glad you called, Dr. Bilks,” replied Eugene, rather coldly.
“I merely came up to ask for our friend Mr. Birch. I have done nothing
but think of him ever since I left Poppleton. How is he?”
“He is as well as usual.”
“I suppose he will not even look at me, after what has happened; but I
assure you Mr. Birch is still dear to me as a friend.”
“Julia is very sick. I am glad you have come on her account. My mother
is not satisfied with Dr. White.”
“Miss Hungerford sick! I am sorry for that--very sorry;” and with the
utmost tenderness he asked the particulars of her illness, which Eugene
gave him.
“I am afraid it is too late to break up the fever. I will see her.”
Dr. Bilks went to Julia’s chamber. We must do him the justice to say
that nothing could be more tender, delicate, and judicious, than his
conduct in the sick room. He examined his patient with the nicest care;
but he was compelled to inform Mrs. Hungerford that nothing could
prevent her daughter from having a regular run of typhoid fever. More
than this, he was magnanimous towards Dr. White; for, whether he knew
anything about it or not, he assured her that the medical attendant had
done all that any physician could do. His treatment had been proper
and judicious; but Julia’s health had been impaired by her travel in
Europe, and by the excitement in which she had lived since her return.
Julia was very sick; and while Dr. Bilks promised well, he had some
doubts in regard to the result. If Mrs. Hungerford was not satisfied,
he hoped she would call in other medical advice. Eugene was not
satisfied, and the two doctors from the Mills came, in the afternoon,
to consult with Dr. Bilks. All that had been done was approved, and
the patient’s condition, though dangerous, was not critical.
Pine Hill was filled with anxiety. Gloomy forebodings hung over the
house. Mrs. Hungerford wept over her fair daughter, prostrate before
her, perhaps never again to rise, and mother and brother prayed that
God would avert the threatened blow.