A MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR.
"Stark and stiff in the lonely night,
Stiff and stark in the dawning light,
There it lies
With unseeing eyes,
And placid face of a bloodless white.
"Who hath slain this man by guilt and fraud
Bears on his brow, deep-seared and broad,
The blood-red stain
Which is mark of Cain,
Unseen by man but beheld by God."
The red light of dawn burned in the eastern skies, the first faint
thrill of life ran through the earth as the twitter of awakening birds
was heard in the green woods, then the glorious sun sent his beams
over the chill lands, bathing everything in golden splendour.
Thornstream Hall faced to the east, and the great shafts of sunlight
breaking through misty morning clouds, pointed downward like the
finger of God on to the terrace--to the open window of Sir Rupert's
study, and there in the splendour of sunrise lay a dead man.
Face downward he lay, with half of his body in the room, the other
half on the terrace, and the hands stretched out in the form of a
cross, clenched in the agony of death.
Last night--this morning--nay, but a few hours back, and this was a
living, breathing man, full of all the passions, sins, and hatred of
humanity; now an empty shell, a soulless husk, was all that remained
of Sir Rupert Pethram.
Then the servants began to move about the house attending to their
morning duties, and one--it was the housemaid--entered the study to
put it in order. There she saw the dead man, and with a terrible cry
fell senseless to the ground. Her cry brought in her fellow-servants,
there were expressions of incredulous wonder, exclamations of horror,
and then a general hubbub of voices.
In a few minutes all the household knew the terrible truth that Sir
Rupert had been found dead in his study, shot through the head, and
Dombrain came to the scene of the tragedy with horror on his face,
followed by Kaituna and Mrs. Belswin.
"For God's sake don't let Miss Pethram see it," said Dombrain to the
butler, "nor Mrs. Belswin. It is not a sight for women."
But it was too late; they were both in the room, and Kaituna with a
cry of horror fell on her knees beside the dead body of her father,
while Mrs. Belswin stood looking down at the corpse with an impassive
expression on her strongly-marked features.
The servants had left the room in order to send for the police, and
only three persons were left with the dead man--Kaituna, convulsed
with grief, kneeling by the body, and Mrs. Belswin standing beside
Dombrain, both silently looking--at the dead man? No. At the weeping
daughter? No. At one another? Yes.
The questioning look of Dombrain said--
"You were the dead man's enemy. Is this your work?"
Mrs. Belswin's eyes replied defiantly.
"I was, and am still, the dead man's enemy. I defy you to prove that
this is my work."
They eyed one another steadily for a few moments, and then the man's
eyes drooped before the fierce daring of the woman's.
There was silence in the room broken only by the sobs of Kaituna.
"Come away, my dear," said Mrs. Belswin, bending down with a caressing
gesture. "Come to your room; we can do no good here."
"Oh!" cried Kaituna, rising slowly from her knees; "who has done this?
My poor father! My poor father! Who has murdered him?"
Again a flash of suspicion between Dombrain and Mrs. Belswin.
"We do not know dear," said the latter, soothingly; "but Mr. Dombrain
has sent for the police. Perhaps they will find out the truth."
"They must! they must!" cried the girl, in an agony of grief. "Oh, it
is terrible. To have come back for this. To be killed under his own
roof by an enemy. Oh, why does God permits such things?"
"God permits many things," said Mrs. Belswin, bitterly, putting her
arm round the shrinking form of her daughter. "Come away, dear. All
that can be done will be done. The English police are clever, and may
perhaps capture the murderer."
Dombrain smiled, and Mrs. Belswin noticed the smile.
"Perhaps the murderer may escape," he said with emphasis, giving a
stealthy glance at Mrs. Belswin's coldly impassive face.
"He may escape man; but he will not escape God," cried Kaituna,
fervently. "Oh, come away, Mrs. Belswin, come away. I shall die if I
stay here."
"You will of course do everything that is necessary, Mr. Dombrain,"
said the chaperon, as she led the weeping girl to the door.
"Of course," he replied, stolidly. "I will arrange everything."
Mrs. Belswin looked at him steadily, and then left the room with the
heart-broken daughter, while Dombrain, left alone beside the corpse,
drew a long breath.
"What nerve," he said, under his breath; "what nerve."
The police came, took possession of the house, brought down detectives
from London, questioned every one, held an inquest, and--discovered
nothing. Well; it was a difficult case. The police are not infallible;
therefore they failed to discover the murderer of Sir Rupert Pethram.
If it had been a low London murder case, for instance, of the
Whitechapel poker sort, then, indeed, the criminal would not have
escaped human justice; but in this affair it was impossible to move in
any direction. Justice promised to do what she could, and did nothing.
That bandage over her eyes is often in the way, and in this instance
blinded her altogether; so whomsoever had killed Sir Rupert Pethram
was quite safe, as far as this stupid, blind, blundering Justice was
concerned.
Of course the police had a theory which explained everything, and
accomplished nothing. The daily papers argued one way, the police
argued another, the public gave their view of the matter; and after
great cry, there was little wool.
Sir Rupert, according to an intelligent jury, came by his death at the
hands of a person unknown, a verdict which was vague, and might mean
anything. Then he was placed in the family vault, and the title and
estates went to a distant cousin; Kaituna left Thornstream a penniless
orphan, and a new order of things began.
The new heir was a man of business, who was hard, and prided himself
on being hard. He had a large family; and thinking the Thornstream
rents was quite small enough to rear his dozen children--male and
female in equal proportion--declined to do anything for Kaituna, whom
he scarcely knew.
Mrs. Belswin, thereupon, stepped forward, and took Kaituna off to
London with her to see Mr. Dombrain, and ascertain, if possible, what
private property Sir Rupert had died possessed of. Mr. Dombrain was
quite happy to oblige Mrs. Belswin in every way and did what he could;
but that was comparatively little; so little indeed, that it made no
difference in the financial position of Kaituna, and she remained
dependent on the bounty of Mrs. Belswin.
But Archie Maxwell! Oh, he behaved admirably. On hearing of the death
of Sir Rupert, through the medium of the press, he came down at once
to Deswarth, consulted with Toby, and made every effort to find out
the assassin of Sir Rupert, but without success. Then he proposed to
marry Kaituna as soon as possible after the death of her father, which
arrangement was approved of by Mrs. Belswin, who added, however, that
they could not marry on nothing; and as Archie was not rich, and
Kaituna was now poor, there was nothing left for them but to wait.
This Archie agreed to do, after much persuasion, but meantime was with
Kaituna as often as possible. He came up to London with Mrs. Belswin,
helped her to select a comfortable lodging; and when his sweetheart
and her chaperon were established, went off on his own account to see
Mr. Dombrain.
"Has Miss Pethram absolutely nothing?" he asked.
"Really," says the solicitor, "I don't know if I can give you any
information----"
"Yes, you can! I am engaged to Miss Pethram, and I am going to marry
her as soon as I can. I don't want her money for myself, but I want
her to get her rights."
"Mr. Maxwell," said Dombrain, solemnly, "the late Sir Rupert was a
great friend of mine, and I would do anything for his daughter, but
I'm afraid that she inherits nothing but two thousand shares."
"Oh, indeed! In what company?"
"In the Pole Star Silver Mining Company, Limited Melbourne,
Australia."
"Are they worth anything?"
"Not even the paper they are written on."
"Hump!" said Archie, thoughtfully, "from what I heard of Sir Rupert, I
should hardly think he was a fool, and no one but a fool would invest
his money in a rotten company. Do you know anything of Australian
mining?"
"I know New Zealand," replied Mr. Dombrain, evasively, "but I'm not
acquainted with Australia. The mine may turn up trumps. On the other
hand it may not."
"Are these shares all the property left by Sir Rupert?"
"Yes! He had land in New Zealand; but when he came in for the title he
sold it all, and invested the money in these shares. He thought he
would be able to save money from the Thornstream rents, to leave to
his daughter, but as he occupied the position of master such a short
time, of course he saved nothing."
"And the new baronet, Sir Thomas, will do nothing for Miss Pethram?"
"Nothing!"
"What a scoundrel!"
Mr. Dombrain shrugged his shoulders, and declined to commit himself to
an opinion,--a legal opinion is worth seven shillings and sixpence, so
there is no use wasting that amount.
"By the way," said Archie, as he was going, "what do you think of this
murder?"
"I think it is a most mysterious affair," said Dombrain, after a
pause. "I can't account for it; I was staying in the house as you
know, and left Sir Rupert in his study quite hearty. I heard no pistol
shot, and in the morning he was dead. Most extraordinary."
"Had Sir Rupert any enemies?"
"My dear sir, we all have enemies," replied Dombrain, evasively.
"I dare say; but one's enemies don't go as far as murder as a rule,"
answered Archie, dryly.
"No! no! that is true. But really, Mr. Maxwell, you know as much about
the murder as I do, and I dare say are as completely in the dark."
"I shan't be in the dark long."
"How so?"
"Because I'm going to find out who murdered Sir Rupert."
"Take my advice and don't try," said Dombrain slowly.
"Why not?" demanded Maxwell, looking at him keenly.
"Because you'll discover nothing. How can you? The police have
failed."
"I don't believe in the police much," replied Archie lightly. "I may
succeed where others have failed. Good-bye. Mr. Dombrain, I am going
to see Miss Pethram, and will probably see you again about these
shares."
When Maxwell had departed the solicitor sat in deep thought for a few
minutes.
"I wonder," he said at length, "I wonder if he knows anything about
Mrs. Belswin."