THE GREAT SURPRISE
For many weeks, journeying from camp on slope of the Himalayas, without
much to vary monotonous daily routine, the survey party arrives at
Calcutta. All are paid, and the expedition is disbanded.
To Oswald Langdon, choosing some congenial life pursuit now is a serious
problem. Liberal pay for service just ended places him beyond the
necessity of immediate employment. His faculties might find agreeable
exercise in the legal forum, but this seems interdicted by menacing
voices and spectral beckonings. Whichever way he turns there loom past
wraiths, restless as ghosts of unburied Grecian slain. These must find
soothing specific, ere he tastes elixir of life's destiny.
But how proceed to lay these menacing forms? What has been done to
ferret out this crime? Who is suspected? Has the body of Alice Webster
been discovered? Possibly the strange disappearances have ceased to
excite comment. Even Sir Donald Randolph and Esther may remember these
only as unpleasant reminiscences.
Father and mother! What of them?
An unutterable homesickness overwhelms him. Looking with mute appeal
toward the sky, a star twinkles with softened light. Blending with
ominous shadows of a receding cloud, this tender radiance seems
prophetic. Oswald feels a chastened sense, but strange assurance.
Two persons pass the hotel. The walk and general appearance of both seem
familiar. They are engaged in hurried conversation. No other two men
ever duplicated such combinations of voice, walk, gesture, and general
appearance. His Northfield and London foes are near.
Pierre and Paul did not see Oswald, but hurried by. On the previous day
they had quit the prison. The Calcutta press contained no reference to
their release. Having arrived in Calcutta only three days ago, Oswald
knows nothing of the arrests. He has no desire to meet either of these
rascals, but will go about his own affairs. He feels tempted to assume a
disguise and learn something of their purposes, but recoils at such
practices.
With all this uncertainty checking and thwarting his aspirations, Oswald
cannot easily assume a false guise. True, at Dick Bray's, he donned an
old hat and duster, but these were expedients of hunted self-defense,
discarded soon as aboard ship.
Upon the following day, still undecided what course to pursue, wondering
at the Lanier coincidence of the previous evening, Oswald turns a
street-corner, where a great surprise meets his gaze.
Standing on the threshold of a business house, facing the street, is
Esther Randolph.
The looks of recognition are mutual. Esther steps slightly forward, but
suddenly recoils with a look of scared embarrassment.
Controlling all emotion, Oswald passes on as if nothing had happened.
Crossing at the next corner to opposite sidewalk, he sees Esther still
staring.
Sir Donald joins his daughter, and noting her agitated look, inquires if
she is not well.
Esther then relates her strange impression, clinging hard to her
father's arm.
Sir Donald assures his daughter that such queer freaks of imaginary
recognition often occur.
She still is nervously uncertain.
Even Sir Donald is not fully satisfied with his own theory.
Without suggestion to Esther, he consults registers of several hotels,
but sees nothing to satisfy his curiosity. Concluding that this queer
impression of Esther is through some striking similarity between the
looks of a passer-by and those of that unfortunate youth now no more,
Sir Donald dismisses the subject.
Oswald controlled outward show of emotion at sight of the girl whose
image had been in view every waking hour since their first meeting at
Northfield. That this was Esther Randolph, her look of recognition fully
confirmed. Why is she in Calcutta, and where is Sir Donald?
The young man hardly can prevent retracing his steps and again meeting
the girl. But his conduct will not permit of such course. Possibly
something happened in London to clear the Thames tragedy of all its
mystery and to relieve him of any suspicion as being the murderer. But
this cannot be. The presence of both Laniers undisguised upon the public
streets of Calcutta is proof that justice has been laggard.
Gladly would he face all and end this horrible perplexity but for
Langdon honor.
On the following day, Sir Donald and Esther take a drive. Esther
excitedly points toward two men passing up the side of the street,
slightly in advance of the horses. Sir Donald is struck with the
appearance of the taller youth.
Just opposite the men, Sir Donald and Esther amazedly look at Oswald.
Their astonished gaze meets his, and he colors perceptibly. Karl Ludwig
notices the looks of recognition, and turns around. Oswald impulsively
raises his hat, and the conveyance stops.
Telling Karl Ludwig that he has some business with these people and will
join him soon, Oswald steps out into the street. To the apparently
self-composed greetings of Sir Donald and Esther, Oswald quietly
responds. Asking them their number, it is arranged that he shall call
that evening. With habitual courtesy they separate, Sir Donald and
Esther riding up the street, and Oswald joining Karl Ludwig at the next
street-crossing.
Each actor perceived the embarrassment of the situation, and prevented
any public display.
Sir Donald and Esther have no further interest in Calcutta drives. They
soon return to their hotel, there to await the appearance of Oswald
Langdon.
Esther is all suppressed excitement, and Sir Donald tries to divert her
by little fatherly expedients.
Now that there is no longer possibility of concealment, Oswald feels a
sense of relief, and is eager for the meeting. To these friends he will
tell all, and of them learn the whole news about the mysteries of the
past.
Karl Ludwig jollies Oswald about those friends who seemed so surprised
to see him.
"Der voman vas luffly, und dot chentlemans vas bedder looging den mosd
mens."
At appointed time Oswald enters the hotel and sends up his card. An
invitation to call at the Randolph rooms promptly follows. Conducted
there, he is admitted.
The gracious, kindly greetings do much to relieve his embarrassment, but
Oswald knows that a frank statement should be made, as preliminary to
any further courtesies. On his part have been many strange acts. This is
a fateful emergency, but he will meet it manfully and without
dissimulation or deceit.
His opening is characteristic.
"My conduct has been inconsistent and contradictory, unsatisfactory to
myself, and, I have often suspected, cowardly, yet there was no
consciousness at any time of intentionally having wronged any human
being."
Esther's quick sympathies prompt the reply:
"Father and I both believe you innocent, Mr. Langdon!"
This burst of compassionate confidence pleases yet slightly disconcerts
Oswald.
Giving his daughter a look of mildest remonstrance, Sir Donald mutely
invites Oswald to continue.
Looking into the loyally expressive eyes of Esther, Oswald says:
"Often I have longed for a chance to explain to you both my strange
conduct, but many things prevented. Every succeeding act in the whole
miserable series made telling harder. I saw Miss Randolph yesterday, but
pretended not to recognize her, fearing the result of being identified."
"But you ought not to have doubted us, Mr. Langdon!"
Not knowing just how to explain this unwarranted, agnostic caprice,
Oswald discreetly proceeds with his general line of defense.
"After meeting Miss Randolph yesterday, and through fear of being known,
so rudely passing her by, I felt an impulse to go back, apologize, and
tell the whole story, but was restrained by motives which were honest,
but difficult to understand. Hard as it was to know that friends were
within easy reach who could explain much I longed to hear, and possibly
aid me to clear a horrible mystery, yet I determined to continue as
before, until the Langdon name bears no stain."
"But, Mr. Langdon, your family name is stainless!"
Sympathizing with this earnest youth trying so hard to explain apparent
misconduct, yet hedging against unfavorable impressions until all be
told, nervously amplifying preliminaries through evident dread of more
startling revelations, Sir Donald refrained from comment.
After other preambles, seconded by Esther's eager sympathy and by Sir
Donald's grave, kindly reserve, Oswald tells all.
There was no attempt to palliate a single inconsistency or to deny one
dubious act. Anticipating surprise at numerous apparently weak
performances, he neither minimized nor evaded, urging, however:
"My flight was responsible for all subsequent acts. My own judgment and
conscience did not always approve these actions, neither did they
condemn them. These eccentric courses were unhappy, immature shifts,
concerning which I was never at ease. You have heard all, and I hope
will not unduly censure."
With flushed cheeks, Esther inquiringly looked at her father, who during
the whole recital had not spoken.
Deliberately rising, Sir Donald took Oswald's hand, and looking into
those unflinching eyes, said:
"Mr. Langdon, I believe you fully and censure nothing. Possibly at times
you may have acted indiscreetly, but of this I have doubts."
Here Esther, with happy, beaming face, extended her hand, and Oswald
listened to congratulations, mutely acknowledging his great sense of
happiness.
Placed in proper light before these friends, he soon asks about father
and mother.
Neither Sir Donald nor Esther had heard anything of Oswald's parents.
Oswald again experiences some unaccountable feeling. It is now growing
late, and he rises to go. Promising to call upon the following evening,
the young man passes out into the moonlight and soon reaches his hotel.
Oswald is desirous to hear more of the Thames tragedy. At his next call
this matter is discussed quite fully.
The failure of Oswald and Alice to return from night row on the Thames;
search for them next day; finding of his hat and her handkerchief;
comments of London press; persecutions of detectives; persistent
impertinence of reporters; trip of Sir Donald and Esther to Paris;
sailing of father and daughter for Calcutta; attempts to locate Mrs.
Dodge; being shadowed by strangely disguised man, with all pertaining
incidents; visits to poor family, and clew thereby obtained; call upon
Mrs. Dodge, her statement, and matters culminating in arrest of the
three conspirators; queer, unwarranted proceedings of Calcutta officials
in detention without warrant, charge, or arraignment of three men,
resulting in discharge of the Laniers and continued imprisonment of
William Dodge--all were graphically narrated by Sir Donald.
Oswald asks many questions as to matters that have puzzled his mind
while pondering over this tangled web. Some of these are cleared, but
many remain unanswered.
What can be the meaning of these arrests? Why were the Laniers
discharged and William Dodge detained? Could it be possible that the
Laniers procured the arrests, their own being only a blind? Was there
collusion between officials and the Laniers? How account for their
strange acquiescence in this lawless imprisonment? Had all or any of the
three villains confessed? Were the submission of the Laniers to such
long, unwarranted custody and their final discharge in accord with an
arrangement whereby they had charged William Dodge with murder? Upon
what theory did William Dodge submit to continued detention without
arraignment?
These and similar questions were discussed by Sir Donald and Oswald, but
no satisfactory answers could be given.
Oswald said to Sir Donald: "Perhaps your detective employes effected the
arrests upon insufficient evidence, and seeing that there was no
possibility of convicting the Laniers, had them released. This possibly
might account for their part in the farce, but does not throw any light
on the Dodge episode."
Sir Donald scouted such theory, replying: "I have unbounded faith in the
London bureau, and am fully assured that these arrests were neither
planned nor acquiesced in by that office."
After explanations of the reasons for this belief, Oswald felt sure Sir
Donald was right.
Esther is now happy. This fascinating suitor of former years, whom she
had mourned as dead, is alive and more interesting than ever. His
sorrowful experiences and open avowal of all strange conduct encircle
that brow with a romantic halo. How Oswald Langdon has suffered! She is
sure there is not one blamable act in his whole course of conduct. If
Oswald should renew that proposal--well, her ideas have undergone a
change. She will reconsider the whole matter, and--do what
her--well--perhaps--yes, that is so!
All Oswald's former love for Esther Randolph, intensified by pensive
memories and lonely wandering, now pulses anew. He sees in Esther's
changed manners most encouraging incentives to his reviving hopes. He
believes she now would accept a proposal and become his bride.
There has been a noticeable tendency in her talks toward former
associations, with delicately worded hints at changed views, resulting
from more mature knowledge.
But there has been a change in Oswald Langdon. The alchemy worked
capriciously, but the product has been transmuted. That impetuous,
masterful will is less persistent. There is a more refined,
discriminating sense of subtle distinctions.
Oswald Langdon will not renew former suit. Not yet may he face the world
an unsuspected man. The death of Alice Webster still remains a mystery.
Her murderer, escaping farcical arrest, is now at large. The agencies
employed to unravel this triple conspiracy seem ineffective. He will not
pose as suspected murderer of an innocent girl. Until this mystery is
cleared, he will not think of marriage with Esther Randolph. This grand,
pure-minded, cultured girl shall not blush as wife of a supposed villain
whose hands seem crimson with human blood. He can live and wait and plan
and suffer, if need be, to the end of life, a lone wanderer, but no
woman shall blush for his reputation.
Oswald feels no sense of present concern for maternal solicitude, but
wonders at such marked indifference.
While much pleased at knowledge that Oswald Langdon escaped the
murderous assault by Paul Lanier, and fully believing in Oswald's
absolute innocence of crime, Sir Donald is alive to the situation. There
can be no possible doubt as to the mutual sentiments of Esther and
Oswald. That now these would grow stronger is the inevitable logic of
events.
Oswald's supposed death under such mysterious circumstances tends to
intensify Esther's memories of the past. That all such tender
recollections, augmented by romance of last few days and renewed
associations, would be an irresistible magnet between these two
dissimilar, yet mutually attracting souls, Sir Donald cannot doubt.
Nor does his mature judgment recoil at the issue. All fatherly
intuitions approve of such choice. Every physical, ethical, and domestic
consideration favors this union. Under other circumstances, this
discreetly indulgent father could tenderly yield his beloved child to
such a suitor.
Yet not only shall this union of young hearts be prevented, but
association must cease. What explanation can Oswald Langdon offer the
world for the disappearance of Alice Webster, or for his own strange
conduct? It matters not that Sir Donald and Esther have no doubts of
Oswald's honor. Nor will it suffice that this far-seeing, discriminating
father approves of Oswald's actions in the whole affair as almost
absolute necessities to the ends of justice. The conduct of this
unfortunate youth must be tested in a less friendly forum, before a
tribunal with penchant toward an exhaustive array of incriminating
points.
Sir Donald Randolph cannot permit further association of his daughter
with one who may be suspected of criminal act or intrigue. Neither depth
of affection nor vital impulse of the heart may control in this network.
Esther Randolph may not become the wife of him who is in imminent danger
of arraignment as a murderer.
To Esther he said:
"It is now clear to me that Oswald's continued absence from England and
India is requisite to the unraveling of that subtly interwoven web. The
public still must believe him dead. If they knew of Oswald's flight and
after hiding, the Laniers could move about with brazen effrontery. The
farcical arrests of these villains, followed by such queer release from
imprisonment, may have some reference to such information. Can it be
that this strange procedure had its inception in knowledge of his
whereabouts, and in a suspicion that the Laniers and William Dodge knew
incriminating facts which they theretofore suppressed through motives of
discretion or self-interest? Probably the Laniers yielded to pressure,
and falsely accused Oswald of murdering Alice Webster. Even now, fate's
coils may be closing about his doomed life."
Esther was very pale, but made no reply.
There was to Sir Donald a most decisive leaning toward prompt action in
an emergency. About many subjects he ruminated with speculative ease,
but dallied little in matters affecting Esther's interests.
At the very time that Oswald fully vowed not to think of marriage with
Esther Randolph until after the Laniers had been whipped of justice, Sir
Donald was moving toward the hotel where this young man stopped,
revolving in his mind how to broach his wishes without offense.
Their conference was short. When Sir Donald was explaining the requisite
precautions, Oswald noted his embarrassment, and anticipated all without
reference to the central figure. The girl whose image posed before the
heart-visions of both was not named during this interview.