VENGEANCE IS MINE. I WILL REPAY
"Jean," she cried joyfully. "The detective says that you are innocent;
and that he feels he will be able to place the crime where it belongs!"
"I'm glad," he said solemnly. She bestowed upon him a kind smile as she
said:
"So I thought I would just come over and cheer you up. There is
something mysterious about it all, and the newspapers are devoting much
space to it. Oh, I'm so glad to hope that it will be all over tomorrow,
and you will be let out of this place, so you can go back home and cut
your wheat."
"My wheat?"
"Yes, of course, Jean. You have a fine crop of wheat on all your land."
"I have?"
"Yes, it is so," she reassured him. And then she paused, as something
seemed to occur to her. "Because of the fact that you have had several
failures you cannot realize that you have actually raised a crop, a big
crop, better than any crop since--since." She stopped short, and he
understood and suppressed a sigh. When he looked up, she was moving down
the hallway, her mind filled with something she had almost forgotten
during the past two days.
He knew of it. She had been given quite a write-up in the social columns
of a Chicago paper and many lovers of her musical hit, were, unknown to
her, curious with regard to her coming marriage.
The detective Agnes had retained, called on Baptiste's lawyers and held
a lengthy consultation. When he left them, an understanding had been
reached with regard to the hearing, and silence was agreed upon.
At the magistrate's office the following morning, the court room was
crowded. Scores were turned away, and all the family had been
subpoenaed.
Glavis was first called, and related what he knew, which has already
been related. Next came Mrs. McCarthy who knew even less. She was
followed by Ethel, and the detective and two lawyers questioned her
closely.
"Now, you say you heard your sister scream," said the lawyer after the
usual formalities had passed. "Will you kindly state to the court just
what you overheard and know regarding this affair?"
She glared at him, and then her eyes met those of Baptiste, and she
glared again. She told a varied story of the case, and made it very
brief.
"You say, madame, that after you heard your sister scream you rushed
from your room and to where she was?"
"Yes," she answered, and those near noticed the sulkiness.
"And when you arrived you found her dead near the door, while your
father lay murdered in the bed?"
"Yes."
"Do you recall, Mrs. Glavis, whether she screamed long, or whether it
was brief?"
She hesitated, somewhat confused. Presently, she stiffened and said: "It
was long."
"Did it last until after you had left your bed?"
"It did."
"Until you had left the room you were in?"
"Yes."
"In fact she was screaming still when you arrived at the door of the
room, no doubt?" the lawyer's tone was very careless, just as though he
were not in the least serious. Her reply was prompt.
"Yes."
"Now Mrs. Glavis, do you recall having ever heard your sister scream
before in a like manner?"
She started perceptibly. Her eyes widened, as if she were recalling an
incident. Suddenly she became oblivious of her present surroundings, and
conscious of a night two years before.... When she resumed her
testimony, she was seen to be weaker.
"No," she said bravely.
Now it so happened that the attorneys for the defense had consulted with
a chemist, who was in the court room by request. At this juncture he was
called to the stand. He was asked a number of questions, and then Ethel
was again placed on the stand.
"Now, madame, the court has decided to investigate this matter
thoroughly. You are positive Jean Baptiste, here, killed your sister,
also your father? You remember, of course, in giving your testimony,
_that we are going to investigate the case and prosecute for perjury_!"
She had been seen to raise her handkerchief to her eyes with the first
announcement regarding the investigation. Now she uttered a loud cry as
the tears flowed unchecked. Suddenly she dropped her handkerchief, and
with her arms stretched forward, she screamed:
"_No, no! Orlean, Orlean! Oh, my God, Orlean!_" And in the next instant
she would have fallen in a dead faint had those near not caught her. For
this is how it happened.
* * * * *
When the family returned from the court house, Orlean had retired at
once, complaining of a headache. Since she had very often since her
father brought her home complained of such, no particular attention had
been paid it. She stayed in bed until late in the afternoon. In the
meantime her father went over to the west side, presumably to call on
Mrs. Pruitt. It was late when he returned, about eleven o'clock, that
night.
Orlean retired again about ten, and had fallen into a troubled sleep.
She felt the same as she did the night she had returned from Mrs.
Merley's, and she could not account for the strange nausea that lingered
over her.
When N.J. McCarthy returned, he went to the kitchen for a drink of
water, after which, he must return through the room in which his
daughter, Orlean, lay sleeping. As he had done on that occasion two
years before, he had paused at the foot of the bed to observe his
sleeping daughter. How long he stood thus, he never knew, but after a
time he became conscious of that strange sensation that had come over
him on the memorable night before. He tried to throw off the uncanny
feeling, but it seemed to hang on like grim death. And as he stood
enmeshed in its sinister thraldom, he thought he again saw her rise and
point an accusing finger at him. Out of it all he was sure he heard
again her voice in all its agony as it had spoken that other night. But
tonight the accusation was more severe.
[Illustration: From a painting by W.M. Farrow.
HE TRIED TO THROW OFF THE UNCANNY FEELING, BUT IT SEEMED TO HANG ON LIKE
GRIM DEATH. AND AS HE STOOD ENMESHED IN ITS SINISTER THRALDOM, HE
THOUGHT HE SAW HER RISE AND POINT AN ACCUSING FINGER AT HIM.]
"_There you are again, my betrayer_," she said coldly. "_Today you
completed your nefarious task; you completed the evil that began more
than thirty years ago, oh, debaser of women! Where is Speed, and the
wife of his you ruined? Where? In hell and its tortures did you say?
Yes, and where are my brothers? Oh, don't tremble, for you should know!
No, you made me pretend to feel that you had not committed that sin, and
other sins, also. But I knew--yes, I knew! You never told me I had
brothers. You said foolish things to deceive me and the mother of mine.
You called me by a boy's name, Jim, and pretended, because you did not
recognize your illegitimate off-spring, that there were none. And then
came Jean. Oh, you had him at a disadvantage always! When he was a
little boy, you started your evil, and twenty years later you renewed
it. Why, oh, you vain sinner, you know! He married me--perhaps he didn't
love me then as he might have--as he would have had I tried to be the
woman he wished me to be. But you took advantage of the weakness that
was in me by the heritage of my mother, and you made me subservient unto
your evil will!_
"_Well, it's all over now, and from this day henceforth you will never
see peace. The evil and misery you have brought unto others, shall now
be cast upon you. You are my father, and the creator of my weakness, but
you have taken my husband and soul mate, and made a new generation
impossible for me to lead. And now I say unto you, go forth and repent.
Begone from me. For from this day evermore though in weak flesh I may
pretend to love you, know that I must hate you!_"
He shook himself, and succeeded in casting off the depression. When he
looked again, Orlean was sitting up in bed, regarding him sleepily. He
started, and wondered whether what had passed was real, but in the next
moment he was relieved.
"Papa," she said in her usual, but sleepy-like voice, "Is that you?"
"Yes, daughter," he replied quickly, and as if to still the excitement
in his heart, he passed quickly around to where she reposed, and planted
a kiss upon her lips, and turning, hurried upstairs.
She sat upright for some minutes after he had gone, and became conscious
of that singular feeling that she had felt all the day, still lingering
over her. As she sat there, she heard the little clock on the table
beside her mother strike 11:30. She lay down again, and a few minutes
later she was asleep.
The Reverend retired quickly and wished he could sleep and forget what
he thought he had seen and heard. He was successful, and soon he was
snoring. He could not understand upon being awakened slowly how long he
had slept, but he became conscious that the light was burning brightly.
He turned on his back, and when he could see clearly, his eyes fell upon
Orlean.
She stood between him and the door, and he regarded her with a puzzled
expression. Presently his eyes met hers, and he started up. _What was
the matter with her?_ Her eyes were like coals of burning fire; her
stiff, bushy hair, was unbraided and stood _away from her head giving
her the appearance of a savage. But it was the expression of her eyes
that disturbed him._ He was held in a thraldom of fear as she slowly
advanced toward the bed.
"Orlean," he at last managed to say. "What is the--"
"_I have come at last to right a wrong_," she began in an uncanny voice.
Never had he seen her appear like that before, nor heard her speak in
such a voice. She paused when she was beside the bed, and stood looking
down upon him in that demented fashion. The cold perspiration broke out
all over him, and he trembled.
"_Oh, you told me my husband did not love me. While he worked to make us
comfortable and happy out there on the claim you sat beside my sick bed
and told me lies. While he grieved over the loss of our little one, you
conceived a vile plot to 'get even,' Oh, you--liar! You sunk his soul
into hell for spite. And then today--yesterday you reached your climax
by having me go on the stand and testify to a greater lie! To save your
wretched soul from disgrace, I swore to the most miserable lie a woman
could tell! And now that you have made him suffer unjustly, and spoiled
all life held for me, the judgment of God is upon you. The God that you
have lied to and made a laughing idol of seeks restitution! So you
sinner of all the sins, vengeance is mine, I will repay!_"
So saying, she reached quickly and grasped the knife he had found years
before, a desperate looking instrument with a six-inch blade and bone
handle. She raised it high, and for the first time he was fully
awakened. He attempted to struggle upward, but with a strength borne of
excitement, she pushed him and he felled backward upon the bed.
"_Orlean, my child, Orlean! My God--oh, my heaven, what do you--_" he
got no further. Quickly her poised arm descended, and the knife she held
sank deeply into his heart.
"_Oh, God--my beloved God--ah--oh--Christ! Christo...._" he struggled
upward while she stood over him with that same white expression upon her
face. As the blood clogged in the cut the knife had made, and all the
pulsations concentrated, struggled before ceasing their functions for
all time, he turned his dying eyes toward her. Regarded her blindly for
a moment, and then, dropped limply back from where he had risen, dead.
In that moment she regained her sanity.
She regarded him a moment wildly, and then she closed her eyes to try to
shut out the awful thing she had done and screamed long and wildly--just
as she had done that night when she returned from Mrs. Merley's. Then,
as the echo died away, the door was pushed open, and before her stood
Ethel. One terrible look and the mad girl went quickly forward, halted,
swayed, and then with a moan, raised the knife and sank it into her own
breast. Drawing it forth she regarded Ethel wildly, and then, throwing
the knife against the wall of the room, dropped dead at Ethel's feet,
just as Glavis' steps were heard in the hall below.
When he heard his wife scream, and had rushed upstairs, saw the dead
father-in-law and her sister, he cried:
"Jean Baptiste did this! I just met him coming out of the house as I
entered," and catching his wife he quickly took her back to the room,
and proceeded to spread the alarm.
Even with the grief she was cast into, Ethel had quickly seen a chance
to spite the man she hated, and instead of telling the truth, she had
chosen to keep silent and let Jean Baptiste be convicted if possible for
the crime he knew nothing of.
The people were filing out of the court room. Ethel's confession, born
out of the excitement when the lawyer had mentioned investigating the
crime deeply, had cleared everything, and Jean Baptiste was free.
In the court room during the hearing he had observed Agnes, but when the
trial was over, she was nowhere to be seen. He looked around, but failed
to find any trace of her. At last, with a sigh, he went with the lawyers
and a few days later was home, to harvest the wheat she had told him was
the best, and so he found it.
He was saved thereby, and went into the harvest with Bill and George
again shocking as they had done years before. But there was no Agnes to
bring the luncheon now, and Jean Baptiste lived in the memory of what
had once been.