“And then he will say to himsel’, The son of Duncan is in the heather
and has need of me.”
--_Alan Breck._
So George went on: “As Mr. Pringle says, the fact of Jeff’s
disappearance at this exact time and possible place strengthened all
of the otherwise far-fetched ‘ifs’ twenty-fold. For that reason I
stopped any translation of Jeff’s letter, though I had barely begun
it, to state in full my theory, or rather my hypothesis, based on the
remarkable conjunction of a hinted conspiracy, the occasion and motive
of a conspiracy, and what was in all likelihood the consummation of
that conspiracy, with both Jeff and Tillotson as victims.
“We will now take up the consideration of the letter. See if it does
not reinforce my hypothesis on every point, until, as block after
block falls inevitably into place, ordered and measured, it becomes a
demonstration.
“To begin with, the reference to the ‘French Revolution’ is to the
paragraph that I finished reading to him a few minutes before he left
me, telling of a man secretly and falsely imprisoned in the Bastille
by a _lettre de cachet_, a letter of hiding, procured by some powerful
personage; a man whose one vain thought and hope and prayer was to have
some word of his wife--of his dear wife. And there, I have no doubt, is
where Jeff got the idea for this dear, sudden wife of his. Shall I read
the paragraph for you?”
He should; and did.
“And from that paragraph--as I told Jeff in the very last words I
spoke to him--Dickens got the inspiration for his novel, ‘A Tale of
Two Cities.’ What did Jeff say? In effect, that a great writer could
find material for a novel from any page. ‘A Tale of Two Cities!’ And
here are the two cities, El Paso and Juarez, side by side--as closely
associated as Sodom and Gomorrah, of which, indeed, they remind me at
times. Could he, under the circumstances, say any plainer: ‘I am in
Juarez, in a strong and secret prison’?”
“That seems likely enough,” admitted Leo grudgingly.
“It is plain,” said Billy. “It is there; it must mean something; it
means that.”
“Keep that in mind, then, and consider all the other hints in the light
of that admitted message. Weigh them and their probable meaning in
connection with this plain warning.
“He speaks of Antony’s great oration. He actually quotes two words of
it: ‘Honorable men!’ Therefore, it was important; he wished to put
unusual emphasis on it. Three other important things were called to our
attention by being mentioned twice: one vital point, which I will take
up later--in fact, the last of all--was distinctly referred to no less
than four times. But this is the only direct quotation in the letter.
“Yet of all the words in the play, these two are precisely the two that
least need quoting to bring them to remembrance. No one who has read
Antony’s speech will ever forget them. Jeff had no need to reiterate
here; Antony has done it for him. They were the very heart and blood of
it; the master of magic freighted those two words, in their successive
differing expression, with praise, uncertainty, doubt, suspicion,
invective, certainty, hate, fury, denunciation and revenge. ‘Honorable
men!’ And Thorpe, too, is an honorable man! The Honorable S. S. Thorpe!
Is that chance?
“More yet! Jeff went out of the way to drag in the wholly superfluous
statement that Antony said some things after that which would bear
reading. As a literary criticism this is beneath contempt. The words of
Antony, as reported by William Shakspere, would be all that without the
seal of his approval. But let us see! He says ‘after’ Cæsar’s funeral
oration. Look at the words, Mr. Ballinger. Do you observe anything
unusual?”
“I see a blot,” said Leo.
“You see a blot--and you speak of it, unhesitatingly, as unusual.
Why? Because Jeff was a man of scrupulous neatness, over-particular,
old-maidish. If that blot had been made by accident he would have
written the page over again. It was made purposely. And so anxious was
he that we should not overlook it, that he has fairly sprinkled the
blank half-page below his signature with blots, trusting that we would
then notice and study out the other one. Let us do it. ‘After’ the
funeral oration, he said--but wait. You look, Mr. Beebe; look closely.
Do you see anything else there? Pass your finger over it.”
“I see and feel where he has twice thrust the pen through the paper,”
said Billy, changing color. “And I begin to see, and feel, and believe.”
“You mean, doubtless, that you begin to believe and tremble,” said
George spitefully. “Now we will find what Antony says ‘after’ the
oration, so well worth looking into. Gentlemen, the first words
Shakspere puts into Antony’s mouth after the funeral scene are
these--and remember it is where the Triumvirs are proscribing senators
to death, and that Thorpe was formerly a senator, if only a state
senator--hear Mark Antony:
“‘_These many, then, shall die; their names are prick’d._’”
“Pricked!” echoed George triumphantly. “He has denounced them--two of
them--the two we know! Thorpe and Patterson. But perhaps that is a
gross improbability--a mere coincidence. If anything is lacking to make
the denunciation complete, terrible and compelling, it is now supplied.
The next words Antony speaks----”
“Wait a minute,” said Pringle, eying Beebe. “Let’s see if Billy can
carry on your argument. Can you, Billy?”
Billy put a shaky finger on the blot. His voice was hoarse with passion.
“‘_He shall not live; look, with a spot I damn him!_’”
“He shall not live,” repeated Pringle, “this honorable senator--not if
I have to strangle him with my bare hands!”
“I--I suppose you are right,” gasped Leo, aghast. “But, suffering
saints, he must think we are remarkable men to study out anything so
obscure as all that. Why, there isn’t one chance in a million for it!”
“Well--so we all are, just that kind of men,” said George modestly,
“even if some of us are chiefly remarkable for incredulity
and--firmness. Obscure? Why, dear man, it had to be obscure! If it
hadn’t been obscure it would never have been allowed to reach us--I
mean, of course, to reach Mrs. Bransford. And yet, in a way, it was
neither so obscure nor so remarkable. In the first place, this is not a
case of solving puzzles, with a nickel-plated Barlow knife for a prize,
or a book for good little girls. This letter means something; it is the
urgent call of a friend in need; we are friends indeed, grown-up men,
and it is our business to find out what it means. We have to find out;
a man’s life is the prize--and more than that, as it turns out. He sent
you to me as interpreter, not because he wanted Mr. Pringle to take
orders from me, but for the one only reason that it was not obscure
to me, and that he knew it would not be obscure to me. Do you notice
that I did not have to turn to the play to verify the quotations? It
is fresh in my mind and in his: we read it aloud together, we spouted
it at each other, we used phrases of it instead of words to carry
on ordinary conversation. Mr. Beebe here, when once he was on the
right track, could supply the words for the most difficult of all the
allusions, though he had probably not read the book for years.”
“I ain’t never read this Mr. Shakspere much, myself,” said Pringle
meditatively. “But oncet--’twas the first time I was ever in love--I
read all that stuff of Tennyson’s about King Arthur’s ‘Ten Knights
in a Bar Room,’ and I want to tell you that I couldn’t even think of
anything else for a month. So it seems mighty natural that Jeff, with
his head full of this Shakspere party, would try that particular way of
getting word to us, and no other. You spoke of a message for me, Mr.
Aughinbaugh?”
“I did. Of a message sent in the knowledge that for all your daring,
for all your devotedness, you may not be able to avert the threatened
danger. In his desperate pass he sends to you, as if he spoke with you
face to face for the last time, the words of Brutus to his friend:
“‘_Therefore, our everlasting farewell take:
Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius!
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
If not, why then, this parting was well made._’”
Silence fell upon them. Pringle went to the window and stood looking
out at the night; the clock ticked loudly. Aughinbaugh, keeping his
eyes on the blurred typewritten lines, went on:
“And the other message, of hope, and confidence, and trust, is this:
“‘_My heart doth joy that yet, in all my life,
I found no man but he was true to me._’”
“All of which adds force to his injunction that when the society of
good men and true come to his aid, they shall be careful to make no
move so quick as to jeopardize Jeff. Q.E.D.”
“Since the majority is plainly against me, and also since I am
convinced myself, I’ll give up,” said Ballinger. “And the next thing
plainly is, what are we going to do--or who are we going to do?”