THE WILL
The words rang piercingly through a dead silence. Beatrice, startled
by persistent introduction of a bygone crime, stared at the lean-faced
woman who made the outcry. The Coroner blinked furiously, and nursed
his chin in his hand, considering what to say and what to do. Finally,
he made up his mind to rebuke Mrs. Snow. "You have given your
evidence," said he, frowning a trifle, "and now you must be silent."
"You should note what I have told you," said Mrs. Snow calmly, but her
bosom heaved impatiently; "the one crime may help the other."
"As how?" asked the Coroner politely.
"Because you may strike down two birds with one stone."
"I should rather put it, if what you say is true, Mrs. Snow, that we
may strike down one bird with two stones. I understand that you say the
man who murdered Colonel Hall--I remember him well--also murdered Mr.
Alpenny?"
"You heard what Miss Hedge said about the black patch, Dr. Arne: and
you know that Colonel Hall's throat was also cut.
"There was some stealing also," said Dr. Arne musingly, "which makes
the parallel more complete."
"There was a diamond necklace stolen," said Mrs. Snow quietly; "at
least I remember that. I was not married then, and Mrs. Hall was my
dear friend."
"I never saw her," said the Coroner coldly, and a trifle rudely. "All
this is not to the point--Miss Hedge, will you go on?"
"What would you have me tell you?" asked the witness, who had been
listening eagerly to Mrs. Snow's account of the earlier crime.
"How could you see this man, seeing that the night was dark and very
stormy?"
"I saw his face in a flash of lightning," explained Beatrice, and
then related the momentary meeting. But she suppressed the fact that
on the same night she had met Vivian under the Witches' Oak. It was
not pertinent to the case, she thought. Moreover, with the knowledge
of whose handkerchief was in her pocket, she thought it best to keep
Paslow's name out of the matter.
"The gates were open?" asked the Coroner, when she ended.
"Wide open."
"Mr. Alpenny had the key, I believe?"
"Yes; but that key was not on the ring to which the others were
attached. It hung on the wall."
"Along with the key of the smaller gate," put in Durban.
Then Inspector Jones spoke. "The key of the large gate," said he, "I
found in the lock the next morning, where it had been left."
"The man with the black patch closed the large gate after him, as he
ran out," said Beatrice.
"Ah! then, probably he opened the gate from the inside, and when he met
you he was too startled to take it out of the lock.--And the smaller
key--that belonging to the little gate, Mr. Inspector?"
"It is hanging on the wall of the counting-house now."
Beatrice started, and grasped the chair near which she stood to keep
herself from falling. Vivian had picked up the key when she dropped it
under the Witches' Oak. He must have replaced it in the counting-house
himself, when he was inside. He had also left the handkerchief which
she had in her pocket. Surely he was guilty, and yet--and yet--oh! it
was too terrible. A word from the Coroner recalled her.
"You look pale, Miss Hedge?" he remarked suspiciously.
"And no wonder," said the girl faintly; "the whole affair is so very
terrible."
"Well, well!" said Arne, relenting, and believing this excuse, which
was feasible enough. "I shan't keep you much longer. Why did you not
see Mr. Alpenny on that night?"
"I have told you: the note----"
"Ah! yes. I was about to remark on that when you spoke last--Mr.
Inspector, why has not this note been put in evidence?"
Inspector Jones, with profuse apologies, laid the note on the table.
"I quite forgot," he said, looking ashamed, "but here it is. As you
will see, Mr. Alpenny says that he is going away for three days."
"Where did you find the note, Miss Hedge?"
"Beside my bed on that night. I naturally thought that, as the light
was out in the counting-house, and the note explained, that Mr. Alpenny
had gone away as he intended."
"Quite right--very natural--hum--hum. When you found the body"--he
spoke to Durban--"what clothes was it dressed in?"
"Mr. Alpenny always wore one suit," and Durban explained the
old-fashioned dress; "but when I found the body, it was clothed in a
loose cloak which he used to wear in rough weather."
"And a hat?"
"The hat was on the desk, sir."
"Humph!" said Dr. Arne thoughtfully; "then it would seem that he was
struck down, just as he was going up to town. Could Mr. Alpenny have
caught a train so late?"
"Yes, sir, if he left The Camp at nine o'clock. There was a train at
half-past ten to Brighton; and he could have caught a late one on the
main line, or he could have stopped at Brighton all night. He sometimes
did."
"It is nearly three miles to our local station," said Dr. Arne. "Could
an old man like Mr. Alpenny walk that distance?"
"He often did," declared Durban emphatically; "he had a wonderful
constitution, had the master."
"Marvellous vitality," cried Dr. Herman from his seat, and was rebuked
by his enemy the Coroner.
Arne asked a few more questions, and then addressed the jury. He
pointed out that, on the evidence before them, they could not arrive at
any conclusion as to who was the actual murderer.
"The man who murdered Colonel Hall," cried Mrs. Snow.
"Quite so," said the Coroner smoothly; "but that man escaped, and was
never discovered. If it is the same man--and certainly, Mrs. Snow, it
seems as though your surmise is right--he may escape again. Mr. Alpenny
apparently was about to start on his journey, after leaving the note
for Miss Hedge, and probably was turning over some necessary papers,
when he was struck down. Regarding the locked door, I can offer no
explanation: nor have the police been able to find this masked man,
who assuredly must be the assassin. The case is full of mystery, and I
do not see what can be done, save that the jury should return an open
verdict."
He made a few more observations, but what he said was not very much
to the point. The jury--what else could be done?--returned a verdict
of murder against a person or persons unknown, with an observation to
the effect that the police should hunt down the man with the black
patch. This last remark was rather irregular; but, to say the truth,
everyone was so puzzled over the aspect of the case that no one had any
very clear idea of what to say or do. However, the verdict--such as it
was--resolved itself into the terms above stated, and the jury betook
themselves severally to their homes, there to puzzle over the matter.
Beatrice went back to The Camp with Durban, and both felt glad that the
corpse was still left in an outhouse of the hotel. Neither wished that
gruesome relic of mortality to remain in The Camp.
"That is all right, missy," said Durban, when the two were walking
along the lane towards The Camp; "master will be buried to-morrow, and
we won't think of him any more."
"I'll never get the sight of that body out of my head," said Beatrice,
with a shudder. "Durban, who could have killed him?"
"I cannot say, missy," said the half-caste stolidly; "you heard what
evidence I gave."
"Yes. But did you speak truly?"
"I spoke what I spoke," said Durban sullenly; "the least said, the
soonest mended."
Beatrice felt a qualm of terror at the memory of the replaced key and
the handkerchief in her pocket. "Then you have some idea who killed Mr.
Alpenny?"
"No, I have not, missy--that is, I cannot lay my finger on the man."
"Then it was a man?"
"It might have been two men or three, missy. Master had dealings with
very strange and dangerous people: I don't wonder he was killed. And,"
cried the half-caste, stopping to emphasise his words, "if I knew who
killed him, I would shake that man's hand."
"Durban! Why, in Heaven's name?"
"Because--because--missy," he broke off abruptly, "let the past alone,
my dear young lady. Mr. Alpenny was a bad man, and came to a deserved
end. I did not kill him, you did not kill him, so we had better think
no more of him. When he is buried, you will have the money, and then
you can marry Mr. Paslow and be happy."
"I shall never marry Mr. Paslow--never, never," cried Beatrice
bitterly, and lifted a wan face to the mocking blue sky.
"But he loves you."
"And I love him. All the same--Durban," she broke off in her turn, "I
want to hear all you know about Mr. Paslow.
"I know nothing, missy," said Durban, looking profoundly surprised; "he
is poor but good-hearted, and I like him."
"You don't think that he--he would commit a crime?" asked Miss Hedge
faintly, and clinging to the servant.
"No!" cried Durban, with great assurance. "What makes you think that?"
"Mr. Alpenny said----"
Durban did not give her time to finish. "Master would accuse any one of
anything, to gain his ends," he said quietly. "He did not wish you to
marry Mr. Paslow, because it was to his interest that you should marry
Major Ruck."
"So he said. Do you know this Major?"
"Yes," said Durban, with some hesitation, "and a wicked man he is. If
he comes to marry you, missy, tell Mr. Paslow, and he'll settle him."
"I don't expect that I shall see Major Ruck."
"I don't know," muttered the servant doubtfully; "the Major won't let
you slip through his fingers if he can help it."
"Durban, you seem to know much that you will not tell me?"
"I do know a lot; but it is useless to tell you, missy."
"Not even about Colonel Hall's death, Durban?"
The half-caste turned green, and winced. "Not even about that, missy,"
he said coldly. "Get the money, marry Mr. Paslow, and go away from this
place."
"Do you think Mrs. Snow is right?" persisted Beatrice, wondering at his
nervous looks. "Did the man who killed Colonel Hall, kill Mr.----"
"I don't know--I can't say," interrupted Durban, gloomily; "it might
have been another one of them."
"Are there then two men who wear black patches over the----"
Durban clenched his long, nervous hand. "You'll drive me mad with these
questions," he said fiercely, and with less of his usual respect. "I
tell you, missy, I know much, and yet I know nothing which it would do
any good for you to hear. I have watched over you in the past, and I
shall watch over you in the future. You have been surrounded by devils.
Master was the worst; but now that he is dead, all danger is at an end.
You have the money, and you can go away."
"You speak in riddles."
"Let them remain riddles if you have any love for me," said Durban
moodily; and Beatrice, although anxious to hear more, held her peace.
After all, she had her own cross to bear. In some way Vivian was mixed
up with this horrible crime. He could not possibly be guilty of it, in
spite of the evidence. Moreover, Mrs. Snow said that the assassin was
the same as he who had killed Colonel Hall, which would put Vivian's
innocence beyond a doubt. In spite of her desire to obey Durban to whom
she owed so much, Beatrice had to insist on an answer to this question.
"I won't ask you anything more," she said to the sullen man--and he
was sullen--"only this: Is the assassin of Colonel Hall the assassin
of Mr. Alpenny?"
"I think so," muttered the man, "but I cannot be sure."
"You must be sure, for my peace of mind, Durban."
"Your peace of mind, missy?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes. I must tell you, as I know you will hold your tongue. But I
think--I believe--no, I don't: but I fancy, that is. Durban"--she
caught the man's shoulders and shook him in the roadway--"did Vivian
Paslow murder Mr. Alpenny?"
"Missy!" Durban looked startled, but his eyes sparkled. "No! no! One
thousand times no! What makes you think that?"
"The handkerchief--the key," and Beatrice, producing the handkerchief,
told Durban the whole of what had happened. "And I am thankful that
Mrs. Snow did not see me pick it up," she finished.
"Wait till we get to The Camp, missy," said the old servant kindly, and
led her along the short distance that intervened between where they
had stopped and The Camp itself. Once there, Durban took her to the
parlour-carriage and went away. He returned with some orange-blossom
water, which is a good nerve tonic, and made her take it. When the girl
was more composed, he stood before her with raised finger.
"Missy," he said gravely, "I have been, and I am, a good friend to you."
"Yes--yes, I know you are," she said, with a sigh.
"The reason of my fidelity you shall know some day," he went on, "and
a good reason it is. But you must ask me no more questions until I
voluntarily tell you all that it is needful you should know. With
regard to Mr. Paslow, you can set your mind at rest. He is quite
innocent. The handkerchief you found was left behind by him on the day
he had that quarrel with Mr. Alpenny."
"Are you sure?"
"I am absolutely certain. I saw it on master's desk when I went in to
get that letter which I was to take to town. As to the key, I got it
from Mr. Paslow himself."
"When did you see him?"
"Later on in the day--on that day when we found out the murder,"
explained Durban fluently. "I went outside, and found that Mr. Paslow
was coming in, to see if you had got home safely. He told me that he
possessed the key of the small gate, which you had dropped, and gave
it to me. I replaced it on the nail in the counting-house, where the
Inspector found it. Mr. Paslow went to London whenever he heard of the
crime, and at my request."
"But why, Durban?" asked Beatrice, relieved to find that Vivian had not
been so callous or neglectful as she had thought.
"I wanted him to see Mr. Alpenny's lawyer, and look after the will,"
said Durban steadily. "He wanted to see you; I would not allow that, as
you were quite worried enough."
"But the sight of Vivian would have done me good," protested the poor
girl faintly, for she was quite worn out.
"I can see that now," said Durban regretfully, "but I thought at the
time that it was wiser to keep you quiet. If I had thought that you
suspected him, I should have spoken before: but you never mentioned his
name, so I deemed it best to be silent. But he is perfectly innocent,
and, when he comes back, will be able to tell you where he went after
he left you on that night. Meanwhile he is seeing after the will."
"Is there any need?"
"Every need. I tell you, missy, that even though Mr. Alpenny is dead,
you are surrounded by scoundrels. But if you get the money--and master
swore to me that he would leave you the fortune--you will be absolutely
safe."
"From what, Durban?"
"From the wicked schemes of these people. Major Ruck----" Here Durban
checked himself and spoke softly and soothingly. "There! there, missy,
ask no more questions. Some day your foolish, old, silly Durban will
make things plain. Just now, think only that you will be rich, that you
will marry Mr. Paslow, and that everything will go well with you."
Beatrice raised her arms, and dropped them with a helpless air. She
seemed to be more than ever surrounded by mysteries, and Durban, who
was able to explain, insisted upon holding his tongue. At all events,
her mind was set at rest regarding the honesty of Vivian; and she
thought it best to take the old servant's advice, and possess her soul
in patience until such time as he chose to tell her the truth, whatever
that might be. But it was all very puzzling, and her head ached with
the effort to think matters out. After a time Durban persuaded her to
lie down, which she did very willingly, being quite prostrate after the
terrors of the past few days.
She fell into an uneasy doze, and was awakened by the sound of a
much-loved voice. At once she put on her dressing-gown and opened the
door. Vivian, looking weary and dispirited, was talking to Durban near
at hand, where she could overhear plainly.
"Yes," he was saying, "Beatrice gets nothing. All the money--quite
twenty thousand a year--has been left by Alpenny to Lady Watson."
"Lady Watson!" cried Beatrice, opening the door; "my mother's friend?"
Vivian turned away. Durban changed to his usual green pallor, and
seemed deeply agitated.
"Yes," said Durban, "your mother's friend." He paused, and then spat on
the ground. "Curse her!" said Durban fiercely.