JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS’ MEETING
“BEATRICE, dear, why did you secrete your broken hat-pin, and where
did you get it after the murder?” demanded Peggy, finding courage at
last to ask the question which had worried her so much. Then, seeing
Beatrice’s open-eyed surprise, she added: “Your box caught when I
opened my secret drawer on Friday night, and your cat’s-eye fell out. I
instantly recognized it. But believe me, dear, I never for one moment
thought you were connected with Mrs. Trevor’s death.”
“She never did,” affirmed Dick. “In fact, it was Peggy’s desire to
clear you from suspicion which urged me on in my efforts to find the
real murderer.”
“Peggy, dear Peggy; you best of friends.” Beatrice leaned forward and
kissed her warmly. “Did you open the box?”
“No, indeed!” indignantly. “The cat’s-eye fell out of the broken end,
and I simply thrust it back again without investigating further.”
“I wish you had, dear; you would have understood then the dilemma I
was placed in. I put our marriage certificate in the bottom of the box
under the cotton, and then dropped the cat’s-eye on top. Father told
me, after Don’s arrest, that the police would have great difficulty in
proving his guilt because they could find no motive for the crime,” she
went on to explain. “He himself was as puzzled as they. I instantly
thought of our marriage certificate, and fearing its discovery might
injure Don, I made plans to hide it.
“As to the broken pin--I never found it until after Mrs. Trevor’s
funeral. When I put on black I decided to send all my dresses to a
dear friend in New York. It was Suzanne’s afternoon out, but I was in
a great hurry to send the express package, so I took down my dresses
myself and laid them on the bed. On folding the ball dress I had worn
at the Bachelors’ Cotillion I found the cat’s-eye securely caught by
the gold setting in the lace underflounce of the train.
“I was simply horrified. I had no doubt whatever that the pin had been
used to murder my stepmother. I knew I had left it in the private
office on that Wednesday afternoon when I took off my coat and hat
there. I went to the office to write a note to Peggy, which I gave
to Mrs. Macallister in the parlor later on. I thought,” she glanced
appealingly at Gordon, “that the guilty man had dropped the pin in the
vestibule; for it must have caught in my dress when I let go of my
train to insert my latch key and open the front door.
“I reasoned that the police would never believe my explanation if they
found the pin in my possession, unless I told them the story of my
quarrel with Mrs. Trevor, and of our marriage, Don. I knew Peggy was
coming to see me, and made up my mind to ask her to keep the pasteboard
box for me. You already know what took place on my return from the ball
by my testimony at the inquest,” continued Beatrice. “When I heard Mrs.
Trevor had been murdered, I thought Don had come to the house that
night and had killed her in a moment of ungovernable rage. Can you ever
forgive me, dear?” clasping his hand in both of hers.
“There can be no question of that,” said Gordon passionately. “You had
every cause to doubt me. Mine was the fault. I have acted like a blind,
crazy idiot. Listen: when in London some four years ago, I met Hélène
de Beaupré and became very much infatuated with her. Well, she made a
fool of me, as she did of others. One day, tired of having me around,
she dismissed me. That ended the affair as far as I was concerned.”
“Just a moment,” interrupted Dick. “Did Alfred Clark see you and Hélène
at the Home Office applying for a special license?”
If he had exploded a bomb under their noses, he could not have created
a greater disturbance. Gordon sat up as if he had been shot, gazing
incredulously at Dick.
“Great Heavens!” he ejaculated. “What an accomplished liar Clark is!
And yet, this fabrication has a foundation of truth. He did see us in
the Home Office talking to the clerk in charge of special licenses. We
were waiting there for Sam Peters. You remember him, don’t you?” Dick
nodded. “Sam was to be married at noon. He knew no one in London, nor
did his American bride-elect, except Hélène and myself. He asked me to
be his best man, and Hélène to act as a witness. He had to procure his
special license, so we agreed to meet him at the Home Office and go
with him to the church. Sam will verify what I am telling you, if you
care to ask him.”
“No, no, Don, I’ll take your word for it,” said Dick, hastily.
“Beatrice has just told you of our marriage,” continued Gordon. “I
never knew until your theater party, Dick, which you gave on the night
of my arrival here, that Beatrice’s stepmother and Hélène de Beaupré
were one and the same person. Beatrice always spoke of her as ‘Mrs.
Trevor.’ Mrs. Trevor greeted me that night as a stranger, and of
course I took my cue from her. In the days that followed she must have
seen how deeply and passionately I loved Beatrice, for she hinted as
much to me. Then she told me that she had a package of my foolish,
extravagant letters written years ago.
“‘I never throw anything away that might be of possible use,’ she went
on. ‘Do you think the Attorney General would look with favor on your
suit for his daughter’s hand if he saw those letters?’
“I stared at her aghast, as the whole horrible situation flashed
over me. What in Heaven’s name was I to do? I should have confided
everything to you then, my darling, but no man likes to speak of past
love affairs, no matter how innocent, to his bride.
“For days Hélène played with me as a cat does with a mouse, keeping me
on tenter-hooks. But on the morning of the third I received a note from
her, asking me to go and see her that night about eleven thirty, and
saying that she had decided to return my letters. Overjoyed, I gladly
kept the appointment, and she admitted me after I had given the signal
agreed on. We went at once to the private office.
“Here are the letters,” she said, speaking in a low voice. “I return
them to you freely. But first you must pledge me your word as an
officer and a gentleman never to mention them to either my husband or
Beatrice.”
“Of course, I willingly promised, and after a few words of thanks I
left the house as silently as I had entered. I went directly to the
Benedict, destroyed the letters, then on to the ball.”
“Good Heavens! did she not give you my message--my ring?” gasped
Beatrice.
“No; neither of them.”
“Clever woman,” commented Mrs. Macallister. “She arranged it so you
were in honor bound never to speak of the letters to Beatrice; and
the latter, believing you false, would never refer to them either. Of
course, she reckoned without the knowledge of your secret marriage.
Mrs. Trevor was a shrewd judge of human nature. It was a pretty scheme
she hatched to separate you two, and not get caught herself.”
“You have summed it up exactly, Mrs. Macallister,” agreed Gordon. “The
first letter she showed Beatrice was probably one written years ago.
I was bitterly hurt and angry, Beatrice, when you refused to speak to
me at the hall. Then you returned my letter, unopened, which I wrote as
soon as I heard of Mrs. Trevor’s death.
“I was much surprised, at being summoned as a witness at the inquest.
But when the coroner showed me my signet ring, which you, my dearest,
had said you would never part with, and told me it had been found in
the dead woman’s hand, I was bewildered--horrified. I jumped to the
conclusion that you two had met, quarreled and--God forgive me--”
Gordon could not continue; and Beatrice, with shining eyes bent toward
him.
“And so,” she said, “you took the crime upon yourself that I might be
spared. It was noble of you, dear heart,” and before them all, she
kissed him passionately.
Mrs. Macallister swallowed a suspicious lump in her throat, while Peggy
buried her nose in a convenient pillow.
“Tell us, Dick, how the real criminal came to confess,” she said as
soon as she could speak clearly.
With bated breath they listened to his thrilling account of de
Smirnoff’s vengeance.
“Some of the unfortunate story has to come out in the papers,” ended
Dick. “It cannot be hushed up, altogether, as justice has to be done
the living.”
“My poor father!” cried Beatrice. “Where is he!”
“At his house completely prostrated by the news.”
“I must go to him at once.” Beatrice sprang to her feet. “Will you call
a cab, Don?”
“Mine is waiting; but, dearest, you cannot go without a coat,” as
Beatrice, forgetful of everything, hastened to the door. Quickly Peggy
ran upstairs to collect her belongings.
“Miss Beatrice,” Dick asked, “did you leave a handkerchief of yours in
the private office that Wednesday?”
“I don’t remember. I may have dropped one in the library just before
Peggy called for me in the carriage. I burst out crying on the way to
the ball, and she had to lend me one of hers. Thanks, dear,” as Peggy
returned with her wraps. Hurley ran down the steps and put her suit
case in the waiting vehicle.
“Here is your box, Beatrice,” and Peggy handed it back to her.
Beatrice looked at it with great distaste. “Except that it has my
marriage certificate in it, I could not bear to touch it,” she said.
“Give it to me.” Gordon took the box and slipped it into his overcoat
pocket. “I will return you the certificate, dearest; but to-morrow I
intend to go over the Aqueduct Bridge and throw the cat’s-eye into the
Potomac.”
“Good night, dear Mrs. Macallister.” Beatrice’s eyes were bright with
tears as she kissed her. “How can I thank you all for what you have
done for me? Good night, dear, dear Peggy,” and shaking hands warmly
with Dick, she ran lightly down the steps, as Mrs. Macallister closed
her front door.
Gordon helped her into the cab, gave the address to the driver; then
hesitated. Beatrice leaned forward and touched the empty seat beside
her.
“Donald--my husband--come home.”
And even in the dim illumination of the street lamp, Gordon saw in her
glorious eyes the light that never was on land or sea, and he gathered
her in his arms with a sigh of deep happiness as the cab started
homeward.
* * * * *
Dick followed Peggy back into the library with a fast-beating heart.
Now or never! Mrs. Macallister had discreetly disappeared.
“Peggy,” he said, standing back of her as she faced the open fire,
“there’s something I want to say to you--”
“Well, say it,” provokingly; but catching sight of Dick’s determined
face in the mirror over the mantel, she took fright. “I wonder where
Granny is?”
“Oh, bother Granny! Peggy, darling--no, you sha’n’t dodge,” as Peggy
moved slightly away and stood with head half averted. “I’ve always
adored you, always. The first, the very first encouragement you ever
gave me was that challenge. I have won, thank God! I know I am not
half worthy of you; but I want you so, my darling.” There was no
doubting the passionate longing in his low, tense voice. “Peggy--I have
come for my reward.”
No answer. A log broke in half in the glowing fire, casting sparks in
every direction. Dick drew a long breath and squared his shoulders--so
be it, he would go.
As he moved slightly, Peggy turned her blushing face, and the alluring
eyes twinkled at him for a second.
“Why don’t you take your reward?” she whispered.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
On page 39, the word “be” has been added to the phrase “will used
against you.”
On page 70, half-past has been changed to half past.
On page 157, hatpin has been changed to hat-pin.
On page 159, door jamb has been changed to door-jamb.
On page 235, everyone has been changed to every one.
On page 253, watch-chain has been changed to watch chain.
On page 341, “in in” has been changed to “in it”.
All other spelling, hyphenation, dialect and non-English pronunciations
have been left as typeset.