The Tragedy
Doctor Herbert Varian stood slightly apart from the rest of the group,
his observant eyes taking in all the details of the peculiar situation of
his brother’s house. His eye traversed back over the short distance they
had already come, and he saw a narrow, winding and exceedingly steep
path. At intervals it was a succession of broken, irregular steps, rocky
and sharp-edged. Again, it would be a fairly easy, though stony footway.
But it led to the house, and had no branch or side track in any
direction.
“Everything and everybody that comes to this house has to come by this
path?” he demanded.
“Yes,” said Minna Varian, and added, complainingly, “a most disagreeable
arrangement. All the servants and tradespeople have to use it as well as
ourselves and our guests.”
“That could be remedied,” suggested Varian, “a branch, say——”
“We’ll never do it,” said Minna, sharply. “I don’t like the place well
enough to buy it, though that is what Fred has in mind——”
“No, don’t buy it,” advised her brother-in-law. “I see nothing in its
favor except its wonderful beauty and strange, weird charm. That’s a good
deal, I admit, but not enough for a comfortable summer home.”
He turned and gazed out over the open sea. From the high headland the
view was unsurpassable. The few nearby boats seemed lost in the great
expanse of waters. Some chugging motor boats and a dozen or so sailing
craft ventured not very far from shore. North, along the Maine coast, he
saw only more rocky promontories and rockbound inlets.
Turning slowly toward the South, he saw the graceful curve of Headland
Harbor, with its grouped village houses and spreading array of summer
cottages.
“I never saw anything finer,” he declared. “I almost think, Minna, after
all, you would be wise to buy the place, and then, arrange to make it
more getatable. A continuous flight of strong wooden steps——”
“Would spoil the whole thing!” exclaimed Claire Blackwood. “Oh, Doctor
Varian, don’t propose anything like that! We Harborers love this place,
just as it is, and we would defend it against any such innovations. I
think there’s a law about defacing natural scenery.”
“Don’t bother,” said Minna, carelessly; “we’ll never do anything of the
sort. I won’t agree to it.”
“That’s right,” said her sister-in-law. “This is no place to bring up
Betty. The girl has no real society here, no advantages, no scope. She’ll
become a savage——”
“Not Betty,” Minna Varian laughed. “She’s outdoor-loving and all that,
but she has nothing of the barbarian in her. I think she’d like to go to
a far gayer resort. But her father——”
“Where is her father?” asked Doctor Varian, impatiently. “It will be dark
before we get to our picnic. Why don’t they come?”
He gave a loud view-halloo, but only the echoes from the rocky heights
answered him.
“I knew it!” and Minna Varian began to wring her hands. “He and Betty are
quarreling,—I am sure of it!”
“What do you mean, Min? What’s this quarreling business about?”
“They’ve always done it,—it’s nothing new. They adore each other, but
they’re eternally disagreeing and fighting it out. They’re quite capable
of forgetting all about us, and arguing out some foolish subject while we
sit here waiting for them!”
“I’ll go and stir them up,” the doctor said, starting in the direction of
the house.
“Oh, no, Herbert. It’s a hard climb, and you’ve enough walking ahead of
you.”
“I’ll go,” and Ted Landon looked inquiringly at Mrs Varian.
“Oh, what’s the use?” she said; “they’ll surely appear in a minute.”
So they all waited a few minutes longer and then Janet Varian spoke up.
“I think it’s a shame to keep us here like this. Go on up to the house,
Mr Landon, do. Tell those two foolish people that they must come on or
the picnic will proceed without them.”
“All right,” said Ted, and began sprinting over the rocks.
“I’m going, too,” and Claire Blackwood followed Landon.
“We may as well all go, and have our picnic on our own verandah,” said
Minna, complainingly, and though Doctor Varian would have preferred that
to any further exertions, he did not say so.
“It’s always like this,” Minna’s querulous voice went on; “whenever we
start to go anywhere, somebody has to go back for something and they’re
so slow and so inconsiderate of other people’s feelings——”
“There they go,” interrupted Doctor Varian as the two latest emissaries
went up over the rocks. “Now the house will swallow them up!”
“Oh, Herbert, don’t say such awful things,” wailed Minna; “you sound
positively creepy! I have a feeling of fear of that house anyway,—I
believe it would like to swallow people up!”
“Ought we to intrude?” Claire Blackwood laughingly asked of Landon, as
they neared the house; “if Betty and her father want to quarrel, they
ought to be allowed to do so in peace.”
“Oh, well, if they insist, we’ll go away again, and let them have it out
comfortably. Queer thing, for Daughter and Dad to make a habit of
scrapping!”
“I take Mrs Varian’s statements with a grain of salt,” said Claire,
sagely. “She’s not awfully well balanced, that woman, and I doubt if
Betty and her father are half as black as they’re painted. Shall we ring
the bell or walk right in?”
But this question needed no answer, for as they mounted the steps of the
verandah and neared the open front door, they were confronted by the
sight of Mr Frederick Varian sprawled at full length on the floor of the
hall.
“Oh, heavens, what is the matter?” cried Claire; “the man has had a
stroke or something!”
Landon went nearer, and with a grave face, stooped down to the prostrate
figure.
“Claire,” he whispered, looking up at her with a white face, “Claire,
this man is dead.”
“What? No,—no! it can’t be——”
“Yes, he is,—I’m almost certain,—I don’t think I’d better touch him,—or,
should I? It can do no harm to feel for his heart,—no, it is not
beating,—what does it mean? Where’s Miss Varian?”
“Think quickly, Mr Landon, what we ought to do.” Claire Blackwood spoke
earnestly, and tried to pull herself together. “We must be careful to do
the right thing. I should say, before we even think of Miss Betty we
should call Doctor Varian up here——”
“The very thing! Will you call him, or shall I?”
Considerately, Landon gave her her choice.
With a shuddering glance at the still figure, Claire said, “You call him,
but let me go with you.”
They stepped out on the veranda, and Landon waved his hand at the group
of waiting people below him.
Then he beckoned, but no one definitely responded.
“I’ll have to shout,” Ted said, with a regretful look. “Somehow I hate
to,——” the presence of death seemed to restrain him.
But of necessity, he called out, “Doctor Varian,—come here.”
The distance was almost too far for his voice to carry, but because of
his imperative gestures, Herbert Varian said: “Guess I’ll have to go.
Lord! What can be the trick they’re trying to cut up? I vow I won’t come
back here! I’ll eat my picnic in your dining-room, Minna.”
“As you like,” she returned, indifferently. “I hate picnics, anyway. But
for goodness’ sake, Herbert, do one thing or the other. If you’d really
rather not go to the woods, take your baskets, and we’ll all go back to
the house. It’s getting late, anyway.”
“Wait a bit,” counseled the doctor. “You people stay here, till I go up
to the house, and see what’s doing. Then if I beckon you, come along
back, all of you. If I don’t break my neck getting up there!”
“Don’t go, Father,” begged Eleanor; “let me go. What in the world can
they want of you?”
“No,—I’ll go. I suppose there’s a leak in the pipes or something.”
Herbert Varian went off at a gait that belied his recalcitrant attitude,
and as he neared the house, he could see the white faces and grave air of
the two that awaited him.
“What’s the great idea?” he called out, cheerily.
“A serious matter, Doctor Varian,” replied Landon. “An accident, or
sudden illness——”
“No!” the doctor took the remaining steps at a bound. “Who?”
For answer, Landon conducted him inside the hall, and in an instant
Varian was on his knees beside the stricken man.
“My God!” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “Frederick’s dead!”
“A stroke?” asked Landon, while Claire Blackwood stood by, unable to
speak at all.
“No, man, no! Shot! See the blood,—shot through the heart. What does
it—what can it mean? Where’s Betty?”
“We don’t know,” Claire spoke now. “Doctor Varian, are you sure he’s
dead? Can nothing be done to save him?”
“Nothing. He died almost instantly, from internal hemorrhage. But how
unbelievable! How impossible!”
“Who shot him?” Landon burst out, impetuously; “or,—is it suicide?”
“Where’s the pistol?” said the doctor, looking about.
Both men searched, Landon trying to overcome his repugnance to such close
association with the dead, but no weapon of any sort could be found.
“I—I can’t see it,——” Varian wiped his perspiring brow. “I can’t see any
solution. But, this won’t do. We must get the others up here. Oh,
heavens, what shall we do with Minna?”
“Let me go down, and take her home with me,” suggested Claire Blackwood,
eager to do anything that might help or ease the coming disclosure of the
tragedy.
“Oh, I don’t know,——” demurred Varian. “You see, she’s got to know,—of
course, she must be told at once,—and then,—she’ll have to look after
Betty,—where is the child? Anyway, my wife is a tower of strength,—she’ll
be able to manage Mrs Varian,—even if she has violent hysterics,—which,
of course, she will!”
“Command me, Doctor Varian,” said Landon. “I will do whatever you
advise.”
“All right; I’ll be glad of your assistance. Suppose you go back to the
people down there on the rocks, and then,—let me see,—suppose you tell my
wife first what has happened; then, ask her to break the news to Mrs
Varian,—she’ll know how best to do it. Then,—oh, Lord,—I don’t know what
then! They’ll have to come back here,—I suppose,—what else can they do? I
don’t know, Mrs Blackwood, but your idea of taking Mrs Varian away with
you is a good one. If she’ll go.”
“She won’t go,” said Claire, decidedly, “if she knows the truth. If I
take her, it’ll have to be on some false pretense,——”
“Won’t do,” said Varian, briefly. “We’ve got no right to keep her in
ignorance of her husband’s death. No; she must be told. That girl of
mine, too,—Eleanor, she hasn’t her mother’s poise,—she’s likely to go to
pieces,—always does, in the presence of death. Oh, what a moil!”
“Here’s another thing,” said Landon, a little hesitantly. “What about the
authorities?”
“Yes,—yes,——” the doctor spoke impatiently, “I thought of that,—who are
they, in this God-forsaken place? Town Constable, I suppose.”
“I don’t know myself,” said Landon. “County Sheriff, more likely. But
Clark’s a good, sensible sort. Say we send him down to the village——”
“Oh, must it be known down there right away?” cried Claire. “Before even
Mrs Varian is told! Or Betty. Where is Betty?”
“Betty is somewhere in the house,” said Doctor Varian in a low voice. “We
know that. Now, let that question rest, till we decide on our first move.
I think, Landon, you’d better do as I said. Go and tell my wife, and,
while she’s telling Mrs Varian and my daughter, Eleanor, you can take Mr
Clark aside and tell him. Then,—then, I think, you’d all better come back
here to the house. We’ll send Clark on that errand later,—or, we can
telephone.”
Landon started on his difficult descent and on his even more difficult
errand.
“Can’t you,—can’t you put Mr Varian somewhere—somewhere——“ Claire began,
incoherently.
“I’m not supposed to move a body until the authorities give permission,”
said Doctor Varian, slowly. “It would seem to me, that in this very
peculiar and unusual case, that I might,—but, that’s just it. I’ve been
thinking,—and the very mysteriousness of this thing, makes it most
necessary for me to be unusually circumspect. Why, Mrs Blackwood, have
you any idea what we have ahead of us? I can’t think this mystery will be
simple or easily explained. I don’t——”
“What do you think——”
“I don’t dare think! Isn’t there a phrase, ‘that way madness lies’? Well,
it recurs to me when I let myself think! No,—I won’t think,—and I beg of
you, don’t question me! I’m not a hysterical woman,—but there are times
when a man feels as if hysterics might be a relief!”
“Then let’s not think,——” said Claire, tactfully, “but let me try to be
helpful. If Mrs Varian is coming here,—do you advise that we—cover—Mr
Varian with——”
“With a sheet, I suppose,—do you know where to find one?”
“No, I’ve never been upstairs,—and then, after all, isn’t a sheet even
more gruesome than the sight as it is at present? How about a dark
cover?”
“Very well,—find one.” The Doctor spoke absorbedly, uncaring.
Glancing about, Claire noticed a folded steamer rug, on the end of the
big davenport in the hall, and fetching that, she laid it lightly over
the still form.
“Now, about Betty,——” said the doctor, coming out of his brown study.
“She is in the house,—probably hiding,—from fear,——”
“Oh, do you think that? Then let us find her!”
“We can’t both go. Will you remain here and meet the others or shall I
stay here while you go to look for the girl?”
Claire Blackwood pondered. Either suggestion was too hard for her to
accept.
“I can’t,——” she said, at last. “I’m a coward, I suppose,—but I can’t
search this great, empty house,—for Betty. And, if she were in it, she
would surely come here to us,——”
Doctor Varian looked at her.
“Then I’ll go,” he said, simply. “You stay here.”
“No!” Claire grasped his arm. “I can’t do that either. Oh, Doctor Varian,
stay here with me! Think,—these are not my people,—I’m sympathetic, of
course, but, I’m terrified,—I’m afraid——”
“There’s nothing to fear.”
“I can’t help that,—I won’t stay here alone. If you leave me, I shall run
down the path to meet them.”
“Then I’ll have to stay here. Very well, Mrs Blackwood, they’ll arrive in
a few moments,—we’ll wait for them together.”
And then Varian again fell to ruminating, and Claire Blackwood, sick with
her own thoughts, said no word.
At last they heard footsteps, and looked out to see the little procession
headed by the two sisters-in-law.
Janet Varian was half supporting Minna, but her help was not greatly
needed, for the very violence of Minna’s grief and fright gave her a sort
of supernormal strength and she walked uprightly and swiftly.
“Where’s Frederick?” she demanded, in a shrill voice as she came up the
steps,—“and where’s Betty? Where’s my child?”
Her voice rose to a shriek on the last words, and Doctor Varian took her
by the arm, giving her his undivided attention.
“Be careful now, Minna,” he said, kindly but decidedly; “don’t lose your
grip. You’ve a big trouble to face,—and do try, dear, to meet it
bravely.”
“I’m brave enough, Herbert, don’t worry about that. Where’s Fred, I say?”
“Here,” was the brief reply, and Varian led her to her husband’s body.
As he had fully expected, she went into violent hysterics. She cried, she
screamed, then her voice subsided to a sort of low, dismal wailing, only
to break out afresh with renewed shrieks.
“Perhaps it’s better that she should do this, than to control herself,”
the Doctor said; “she’ll soon exhaust herself at this rate, and may in
that way become more tractable. I wish we could get her to bed.”
“We can,” responded his wife, promptly. “I’ll look after that. Give a
look at Eleanor, Herbert.”
The harassed doctor turned his attention to his daughter, who was
controlling herself, but who was trembling piteously.
“Good girl,” said her father, taking her in his arms. “Buck up, Nell,
dear. Dad’s got a whole lot on his shoulders, and my, how it will help if
you don’t keel over!”
“I won’t,” and Eleanor tried to smile.
Claire Blackwood approached the pair.
“Doctor Varian,” she said, “suppose I take your daughter home with me for
the night,—or longer, if she’ll stay. It might relieve you and your wife
of a little care, and I’ll be good to her, I promise you. And, if I may,
I’d like to go now. I can’t be of any service here, can I? And as Miss
Eleanor can’t either, what do you think of our going now?”
“A very good idea, Mrs Blackwood,” and the doctor’s face showed grateful
appreciation. “Take one of the young men with you, and leave the other
here to help me.”
“We’ll take John Clark,” Claire decided, “and Ted Landon will, I know, be
glad to stand by you.”
The three departed, and then the sisters-in-law left the room and went
upstairs, Minna making no resistance to Janet’s suggestions.
Left alone with the dead, Doctor Varian and young Landon looked at each
other.
“What does it all mean?” asked the younger man, a look of absolute
bewilderment on his face.
“I can’t make it out,” returned the other, slowly. “But it’s a pretty
awful situation. Now the women are gone, I’ll speak out the thing that
troubles me most. Where’s Betty?”
“Who? Miss Varian? Why, yes, where is she? She came for her camera, you
know. She—why, she must be in the house.”
“She must be,—that is,—I can’t see any alternative. I understand there’s
no way out of this house, save down the path we took.”
“No other, sir.”
“Then if the girl’s in the house,—she must be found.”
“Yes,——” and Landon saw the terrible fear in the other’s eyes, and his
own glance responded. “Shall we search the rooms?”
“That must be done. Now, I’m not willing to leave the body of my brother
unattended. Will you watch by it, while I run over the house, or the
other way about?”
“I’ll do as you prefer I should, Doctor Varian,—but if you give me a
choice, I’ll stay here. I’ve never been in the house before, and I don’t
know the rooms. However, I want to be frank,—and, the truth is, I’d
rather not make that search,—even if I did know the rooms.”
“I understand, Mr Landon, and I don’t blame you. I’ve never been in the
house before either,—and I don’t at all like the idea of the search, but
it must be made,—and made at once, and it’s my place to do it. So, then,
if you’ll remain here, I’ll go the rounds.”
Ted Landon nodded silently, and sat down to begin the vigil he had been
asked to keep.
Herbert Varian went first upstairs to Minna’s room, and opening the door
softly, discovered the widow was lying quietly on her bed. Janet, sitting
by, placed a warning forefinger against her lip, and seeing that the
patient was quiet, Varian noiselessly closed the door and tiptoed away.
He stood a moment in the second story hall, looking upward at a closed
door, to which a narrow and winding staircase would take him.
Should he go up there,—or search the two lower stories first? He looked
out of a window at the foot of the little stair.
It gave West, and afforded no view of the sea. But the wild and
inaccessible rocks which he saw, proved to him finally that there was no
way of approach to this lonely house, save by that one and only path he
had already climbed. He sighed, for this dashed his last hope that Betty
might have left the house on some errand or some escapade before her
father had reached it.
With vague forebodings and a horrible sinking at his heart, he began to
ascend the turret stair.