A STRANGE STORY
The appointed meeting takes place. Alice still is nervous.
Though her uncle had spoken most assuringly, she shrinks from the
ordeal. Only through repeated assurances, much prompting, and many
questions upon the part of Sir Donald is the strange story told.
"At the rustic seat on the river-bank, Oswald and I talked over my
troubles. I was overcome at thoughts of the dark outlook. Oswald tried
to comfort me. Perhaps our conduct was indiscreet, but I alone am to
blame."
Here Sir Donald's curiosity is quickened, but he refrains from question
or comment.
Hurriedly passing over this point, Alice tells of having suddenly risen
and stepped with suicidal intent toward the bank. "There was nothing any
longer in life for me. Oswald must have perceived my impulse, as he
sprang between me and the stream.
"Using some harsh language about Paul Lanier, I begged Oswald not to
forsake me. Just then a man came from behind a bush. Before time to
warn Oswald, a blade gleamed in the moonlight. At almost the same moment
I was stunned by a blow on the head, and lost all consciousness.
"After an indefinite period I felt confused sensations, and awoke as
from a horrible dream. Some time elapsed before surroundings could be
discerned. Objects seemed evasive and bewilderingly unreal. The low
ceiling swayed up and down, back and forth. The candle glowed and
flickered, moving around, followed by table and chairs. Such a dreadful
sensation of helpless bewilderment! There were harsh janglings of
unnatural voices and glitter of fiendish eyes.
"When again aroused, I felt a dull, painful stupor. Then objects assumed
distorted shapes, with wildly variegated tints, shrouded by mysterious
hazes.
"How long this continued I can only surmise. All my ideas were confused.
It seemed an age before any rational sense was felt. During these
terrible hours there was frequent recurrence of those harsh, grating
accents and repellent looks from sinister faces. Of these experiences I
can give no clearer account. The brain-pressure caused by the temple
blow produced queer sensations and frightful fancies."
Sir Donald listened with patient sympathy to these harrowing details.
Such might be irresponsive, but doubtless had been fearfully real to
Alice.
Thought of that terrible chapter in her life's history so affects Alice
as to cause almost hysterical emotion.
"At length I felt a sense of quiet rest and relief. It seemed as though
we were again at Northfield. The air was musical with songs of birds.
Oswald and Esther were with me; Oswald was reading. A shadow falls
athwart the flower-fringed walk! I look up, and there stands Paul
Lanier, as at his other Northfield call, after return from India!
"While looking at him with feelings of repulsion, the apparition
changes. We are on the lake, and I am remonstrating with Paul, who pays
no heed to my words. I speak more plainly and grasp his arm! Paul rises
and pushes me overboard!
"I am on the shore with Oswald, you and Esther bending over me.
"Oswald and I are at the rustic seat, standing on the river-bank. Paul
Lanier steps from behind a bush, takes a quick step, and strikes me into
the water!
"The dream was so real that I awoke with a scream.
"Now fully aroused, I see a dark form disappear from the low, open door
of the cabin. The sun is shining. I look around the poorly furnished
room. I am lying on a cot. There is but one window. How came I here?
"Trying to sit up, I am too weak, and the effort tires me. After several
minutes a scared, black face peers through the smoke-bedimmed glass.
"Slowly this colored woman enters the room. Her face relaxes into a
broadened grin. Showing two full sets of teeth, she stares as if curious
what to say.
"'Law! chile, yo' scare Sarah Angeline mos' to def!'
"I put out my hand.
"The wench soothingly says:
"'Don' be 'fraid of Sarah Angeline; she won't hurt yo', honey!'
"I motioned the old woman to be seated.
"With much show of sympathy old Sarah sat down by the cot.
"I now asked where we were and how I came there.
"She looked troubled, and replied:
"''Deed, chile, I'se 'fraid to tell yo'! Dey mought hurt yo', honey, an'
beat po' ole Sarah Angeline moughty considerable!'
"The sound of coarse voices is heard coming around the cabin.
"Much excited, old Sarah raises her hand, whispering:
"'Shut yo' eyes an' don' say nuffin'!'
"There are four in the party now entering. From their voices I detect
that two are men and the others women. They pass into the other room. I
hear their talk, but cannot catch its drift.
"I was too weak for strong purpose, and with presentiment of harm, had
no strength for resistance. I must have dozed. Old Sarah is now
arranging some things upon a small table at head of the cot. To my look
she soothingly says:
"'Yo' needn't be 'larmed; dey's all gone 'way. Yo' bettah pahtuk of some
refreshments now. Dis tea an' toast moughty good for de s'port of yo'
'feebled system.'
"After partaking of the food, I felt tired and dizzy, and closing my
eyes, appeared to sleep. The old negress moved around the room,
muttering to herself. She gently placed her hand upon my brow, then
said:
"'Po' sick chile! Yo' white face 'minds me of my own Mandy Car'line just
'fo' she died!'
"Softly stroking back my hair over this bruised temple, old Sarah says:
"'Suah some one struck yo' powerful hard! P'raps dis yere purty chile
'fused his offah an' he fro' her in the ribbah.'
[Illustration: "PO' SICK CHILE! YO' WHITE FACE 'MINDS ME OF MY OWN MANDY
CAR'LINE JUST 'FO' SHE DIED!"]
"In semi-conscious stupor and with faint sense of the meaning of this
talk, I dozed on.
"'Dey would fo'sake yo', honey, and leave po' old Sarah Angeline, 'less
I leaves yo' heah to die all 'lone by yo'self in the dark.'
"I looked up into the black face bending over my cot.
"'Good Lawd, chile, doan' yo' look that way at po' old Sarah Angeline!
Bress yo' heart, chile, I'se nevah gwine to fo'sake dis yere white baby
in her powerful trials and deep 'flictions--'deed I won' now, honey!'
"Then, fully conscious, I again asked where we were and how it all
happened. My recollections of that terrible night on the Thames seemed
shrouded with a bewildering haze.
"The old black woman hesitated, shaking her head. Old Sarah for a while
was silent, and then yielded:
"'Yo' po' sick chile, yo' knows Sarah Angeline can't 'fuse yo' nuffin'
when yo' mo' and mo' 'zembles my Mandy Car'line ebery bressed minit,
lookin' so pleadin' in her ole black mudder's eyes just 'fo' she died!'
"After many solemn warnings, 'nevah to say nuffin' to nobody, nevah,
nevah!' the old negress told all she knew about how I came to be at this
den in a London suburb.
"There had been a robbery in the city. Suspicion fell on two rough
characters. These, with their girl companions, for several months had
occupied this same two-room cabin.
"Old Sarah had been installed as housekeeper for the four, and received
quite good pay. She knew they were bad characters, but needed the money
for her children and invalid husband, living in the same neighborhood.
"The four had been up the river, and were returning downstream. They saw
two persons sitting near the bank. Fearing that these were spies upon
their track, the men permitted the boat to drift past this point. Both
forms on the shore seemed to rise and stand. The four were now past, a
few rods downstream. They moved very slowly, all cautiously looking at
the two on the shore. Just then a third form was visible. All saw a
knife glisten in the moonlight, followed by a blow and thrust. The two
fell into the river, sinking out of sight.
"The men quickly rowed toward the point of the stream where the bodies
sank. Several rods down something gripped one of the oars. A face
appeared above the water. The hands held that oar, until the girl was
drawn into the boat. Nothing was seen of the other who had fallen into
the stream.
"Now convinced that these were not spies, the four rowed up and down
past this point, but seeing no signs, concluded to abandon the search.
With the girl lying unconscious in bottom of the boat, rowing downstream
for some distance, they landed on the opposite side of the river.
Efforts to revive her were successful, but she relapsed again into an
unconscious state.
"The two men advised leaving her there, and that no one say anything
about what they had seen or done. They were suspected of this robbery.
This incident would make them notorious. The girl would die, anyhow.
"This plan was about to be adopted when voices were heard down the
stream. The men, followed by the girls, rapidly bore me to an old,
abandoned shed, about one hundred rods from shore. Here all remained
until about three o'clock the next morning. As I was still alive, they
finally concluded it would be less dangerous to take me to their cabin.
Both girls favored this plan. The men were afraid to follow their own
impulses, depending upon secrecy of these fickle-minded females. The
four, with their load, reached the cabin just before daylight. Old Sarah
let them in, and was cautioned to say nothing, under penalty of sure
death.
"I had remained here over a week, in charge of this kind-hearted old
negress, being nearly all this time in a seemingly comatose state, with
only brief spells of semi-consciousness. No physician had been called,
as these bad characters wished to avoid notoriety. London papers had
referred to the deaths by drowning or murder of Oswald Langdon and Alice
Webster. These two highwaymen dreaded any mention of their names in such
connection. Old Sarah kept their secret, for fear of losing her position
and of personal violence.
"At times my chances of recovery had been doubtful. I had been
delirious, but most of the time lay in a stupor. What to do with me the
four could not devise. All dreaded an invasion by the police. They had
discussed the proposition to leave me in the cabin, the four quitting
London for some distant city, the men going first singly, the two girls
following later. Still they feared that old Sarah would inform the
police, as she had overheard this talk, and was much distressed about
losing her job. It then was proposed that the five take some other
house, and abandon me to my fate.
"To this old Sarah vigorously objected, and said:
"'I'se nevah gwine to fo'sake dat po' sick white baby who 'minds me so
powerful much of my own little Mandy Car'line just 'fo' she j'ined de
angel band!'
"This settled that proposal.
"Revolving in their minds many schemes to dispose of me and of the
colored woman, the two robbers could not think of any safe plan. Too,
they feared that these girls might confess. They threatened and
flattered the negress, who said nothing in reply.
"The night before had been the worst. The four, drinking heavily, lost
their discretion. A loud quarrel ensued. One of the drunken brutes
staggered into the room where we were lying asleep. He stood there,
glaring first at one, then at the other. His actions aroused old Sarah,
who, springing up and grasping a large bottle standing on the shelf,
struck the besotted wretch such hard blow in the face that he fell
heavily upon the cabin floor. This created a commotion, causing a noisy
row.
"Old Sarah never flinched, but threatened to murder the first one who
touched 'dat po' sick, unfortunate chile, who has no kind mudder to gib
her good device, an' 'zembles my own little angel baby, Mandy Car'line!'
"The girls were not so far gone as to have no fear of results. They
succeeded in getting these drunken villains into the other room. The
excited wench slammed the door and bolted it.
"Through all this fuss I had not shown any signs of life, except heavy
breathing and slight moaning. The faithful old colored woman kept watch
until morning.
"The four breakfasted late, and afterward went out singly.
"Having finished her morning work, old Sarah returned to watch at the
cot. The poor old servant was feeling a sense of superstitious dread.
She had just turned away her face when I made that awful scream."
In nervous, dramatic manner Alice related these experiences, with old
Sarah's account of what had happened. Memories of this eventful period
had shadowed after days and given somber hues to many dreams.
At breaks in the narrative Sir Donald made tactful suggestions,
courteously prompting its continuation. As to those parts which Alice,
through evident maidenly reserve, passed over hurriedly, he did not urge
more explicit recital. However, his suggestions evinced thorough
recollection of all that had been said and a tenacious hold on the
natural drift of the story.
Aided by Sir Donald's discreet suggestions, promptings, and questioning,
Alice continued her strange romance.
"For several days nothing of much account occurred at that old cabin. I
suffered from peculiar pains in the head and confused sensations,
sleeping much, but having frightful dreams. During waking hours my
memory seemed almost blank, with only bewildering hints of events.
Sleep was dreaded, as dreams again presented the awful past. Time,
place, and incidents were grossly distorted. Yet each day I grew
stronger.
"Slowly the brain-pressure relaxed. Dreams grew less fantastic. I had
more distinct memories. With returning strength and clearer
understanding of my condition came thoughts of past misfortunes. My then
helpless position was appalling. That for an indefinite period I must be
dependent upon the bounties of those depraved creatures who had rescued
me from the Thames current seemed horrible. The presence of these I
continually loathed and feared. It appeared fate's cruel decree that I
should escape Paul Lanier's murderous designs but to suffer this
prolonged, indefinite, loathsome danger. Yet such distress served to
check the despondent outlook of future years. I became anxious for some
immediate rescue.
"Old Sarah was my only hope, but could not devise any plan to help me. I
studied that black, sympathetic face for inspiration. It seemed that my
mute appeals greatly pained her, but she could give only high-sounding
encouragement, while solemnly pledging everlasting devotion to one who
'mo' and mo' 'zembles my own little bressed baby, Mandy Car'line just
'fo' she died!'
"After weeks of suspense, only the girls returned from night visits to
London scenes. They looked much depressed. Old Sarah was taken into
their confidence, and appeared greatly troubled. The next day both girls
moved, taking only articles of clothing, saying nothing as to where they
were going.
"The old servant seemed much affected, but soon grew more cheerful. She
told me that these men had been arrested, charged with the robbery. The
girls suspected the police would come that day to search the cabin for
stolen stuff. They would go away, and old Sarah must keep quiet. She was
to claim as her own everything in the cabin. The four had been only
boarders, about whom she was to know nothing. As the price of her
secrecy she could keep everything in the rooms. There were sufficient
supplies for at least a month.
"All this and much more old Sarah told me in a hysterical burst of
confidence. When entirely recovered, I could find my friends, and she
would go home to her family.
"To me this unexpected turn was a great relief, and my simple-hearted
old benefactress grew quite hopeful.
"The police raid did not occur. None of the four ever came back. What
became of these criminal suspects I never heard.
"After a few weeks I was able to walk about the cabin. Determined soon
as possible to cease dependence upon this poor old servant who so
generously had befriended me in such need, I longed for speedy recovery.
Old Sarah seemed to dread the hour when her 'new baby chile' would go
away.
"The colored woman indulged in much grief at our parting, bewailing it
as a fresh bereavement. She explained that Mandy Caroline was her oldest
child, and died at the age of twenty-four. Though having many other
children, it seemed to her that I was a heaven-sent substitute for this
lost daughter.
"Sarah and her husband were slaves on a Georgia plantation before the
close of the American Civil War. They came to London as servants in the
family of an Englishman who had been traveling through the Southern
States. They afterward married in London.
"The colored woman would not listen to any talk of future repayment, but
so pressed upon me the acceptance of a few small coins that I took them.
"I had intended to go home and explain all, but felt much fear after
starting. How could my strange disappearance and long stay be explained?
What would be thought of my staying in this disreputable den with
criminals and social outcasts? To whom could appeal be made for proof,
but to this poor, old wench, who had been in the employment of the four,
two of whom are charged with highway robbery? Would not my friends and
acquaintances feel averse to further association with such a person?
They might suspect that both Oswald and I had practiced deceit in our
disappearances.
"These thoughts overwhelmed me with an unbearable burden of doubt and
dread. I became confused and bewildered. My sense of London locations
grew hazy.
"Calling to a passing 'coster,' I begged him to take me to some
respectable inn.
"He objected, but upon learning that I was sick and had lost my way,
consented.
"In about an hour he stopped at a cozy little house. Helping me to
alight, he told me that lodging could be obtained there at reasonable
rates. He generously declined to accept payment for the ride.
"I staggered into the hallway and sat down in a fainting condition upon
one of the stair steps. Still dizzy, with severe pains in the head and
sensations of nausea, I was shown a room.
"The proprietor gazed at me with surprise. Seeing my weakness, he left.
"Soon after, a servant called, but hearing that it was only a slight
attack, requiring quiet rest, disappeared.
"After several hours, I awoke with a start. The proprietor's wife,
portly and sympathetic, stood staring in at the half-open door. She
eagerly accepted my stammering invitation to come in and be seated.
Seeing that I was weak and embarrassed, she refrained from questions as
to my name or connections. I gave prompt assurances that my
indisposition was not serious.
"Soon a tempting meal was served. Following more sympathetic
suggestions, the kind-hearted lady withdrew.
"Left alone, I, late into the night, thought over my perplexing
situation, but could not devise any plan of action. The only settled
conviction reached was not then to meet any friends or acquaintances,
but to await the clearing of the dark clouds.
"In this extremity came thoughts of past rescues. How strange my escapes
from lake and river! Had not Paul Lanier's cruel malice been thwarted?
That black benefactress surely had been an angel of deliverance from
loathsome perils in London suburb. Perhaps I yet would live to outwit
the crafty Laniers. Surely there would be a way out of these helpless,
bewildering mazes.
"For some time I remained at this inn, neither going upon the street nor
making inquiry. The landlady restrained all her curiosity as to my past
life and present distress. With motherly kindness she shielded me from
all questioning. I decided to leave London for some obscure English
town, and there seek employment. What to do was very indefinite, but
there must be something done.
"As I barely had enough money to pay my bill, how to reach such a place
was an important problem. In my weak state this obstacle grew more and
more difficult. In desperation I was about to quit the inn penniless,
and look for work. I had paid and was ready to start out on this hard
search.
"From a whispered talk with her husband the landlady returned, and in a
motherly way, placing one arm around me, slipped several small coins
into my hand. I was hesitating, when a carriage stopped in front of the
open door where we were standing.
"Quickly stepping down, a well-dressed gentleman gave low-spoken
directions to the driver and entered the inn. With apparently
unconcerned look he surveyed those present, but was visibly interested
as I turned my face.
"I tarried, between curiosity and dread of identification, but became
more confused, and started for the outside door. Bidding the surprised
landlady a hurried good-by, I passed out and down the street. Having
gone three blocks and paused at a corner, uncertain which way or where
to go, looking back I saw the same carriage which a short time before
stopped at the inn rapidly approaching.
"I started on, and had gone only a few rods when the stranger passed. He
turned around, stared, and the carriage stopped.
"The man stepped out, and coming up to me, in low, hurried tones said:
"'Excuse my rudeness! You are Alice Webster! Don't you know your Uncle
Tom?'
"Between recognition and shame at my strange conduct I stammered some
confused greeting.
"Seeming to notice this painful embarrassment, uncle gently said:
"'Do not worry, Alice. Your Uncle Tom is all right! Get into the
carriage, and we will go anywhere you say! You have something to tell
me, but take lots of time to tell it.'
"Seeing my hesitation, he carelessly says:
"'I will not take you home now, little girl.'
"My fears allayed, I accepted the invitation. We took a long drive,
making many turns, uncle talking about the scenery, weather, and other
subjects, but never hinting at any explanation of my conduct. Once I
started to speak of what weighed upon my mind, but was silenced by:
"'After a while, little girl; no hurry about that.'
"The day was warm. Giving orders to stop at a park, Uncle Thomas told me
that we would take a stroll and have a confidential chat. When seated
under a tree in a secluded part of the grounds, he says:
"'Now, Alice, tell Uncle Tom all your troubles. Make it just as bad as
possible. I like to hear thrilling stories from real life.'
"Set at ease by this pleasant, insinuating bantering, I told all. When
speaking of my final determination neither to go home nor to meet any
old acquaintances, I hesitated to assign reasons for such course.
"Uncle seemed to understand this, and at once said:
"'No, you must not go home yet. We have much important work to do, and
must soon quit London. We would leave to-day but for a little matter
here.'
"We then decided to stop at a secluded hotel, where identification would
be doubtful, and when Uncle Thomas finished that 'little matter' would
take a trip.
"During several days I saw little of Uncle Thomas. He did not stay at
the hotel, but made brief daily visits. One evening he called, and
said:
"'How would my little girl like a sea voyage?'
"I gleefully replied:
"'That would be splendid!'
"'Well, be ready to-morrow morning at seven. I will be here then.'
"With these words he left.
"Upon the next day Uncle Thomas appeared. Taking out of a traveling-bag
a pretty gown, neat jacket, and stylish hat, he told me to put these on,
comb my hair low over the temples, and wear a veil, which was then
produced.
"I made the change, and the simple disguise was quite effective.
"Uncle Thomas looked droll in old-fashioned long-tailed coat, ample
trousers, sorrel whiskers, and silk tile.
"We took a closed carriage for the train, and in short time were on our
way to Southampton, where soon after passage was procured on an ocean
steamer for Bombay. Uncle Thomas had said nothing about his plans; I was
ready to go anywhere away from London, and would trust my uncle's
judgment implicitly.
"He had suggested that I speak to no one on the train, at the wharf, or
aboard ship. This disguise should be kept up during the journey.
"In the privacy of my cabin Uncle Thomas explained that he wished our
identity unknown, as persons were on the vessel whom it was necessary
for him to 'shadow.' To watch the movements of these was his main reason
for sailing so suddenly. Keeping track of them had been his work for
some time in London. Learning their intention to sail from Southampton
on this steamer, he had decided to take the trip. These had come from
London on the same train. They were booked for Calcutta, but would land
at Bombay.
"Uncle Thomas was 'shadowing' two noted criminals. I must not be
inquisitive, but Uncle Tom would tell all about it at the proper time.
If on the voyage he appeared to neglect me, it would be to watch and
checkmate these cunning rascals. If any one acted strangely or seemed to
watch me, I was to appear unconcerned. He would take charge of the
clothes which I had worn at and since the Thames assault until our
departure from the London hotel.
"Much impressed by uncle's precautions, I strictly observed them during
the whole voyage, never entered the dining-room, and rarely went on
deck. Meals were served in my cabin.
"Uncle Thomas made many brief calls, speaking cheerily, but never
referring to his interesting watch. The few times I saw him on deck he
seemed not to know me.
"Only once during the whole trip did it appear to me that Uncle Thomas
was alert.
"A slim, dudish man, with close-cut, coal-black beard and heavy
mustache, carelessly passed by, but seemed to give some signal, simply a
slight backward turn of the wrist. Uncle turned abruptly and went below.
"After a tedious voyage, we landed at Bombay.
"Uncle Thomas had said that if possible he would secure private rooms
somewhere in the city.
"From the landing this same dudish-looking man and two others went away
together. Then uncle and I left, and after some time found three nicely
furnished rooms in a private house, which we occupied during our stay in
Bombay."
At this point in the narrative Sir Donald grows eager, and looks at the
striking, flushed face of this beautiful girl with an admiring,
querulous stare. New light is dawning upon some reported occurrences in
that far Indian seaport. But it is apparent that Alice has grown weary
with the strain of recital.
Sir Donald suggests deferring further explanations for half an hour
while he attends to some small errands. Seeing Esther and Charles, he
tells them not to stay in on his account.
Promptly at the appointed time Sir Donald is back for the story's
continuance.
"In about a week after arrival at Bombay Uncle Thomas said:
"'I have kept some things secret for fear of worrying you at a time when
you required rest and quiet. The sea voyage has done you much good, and
you are now strong enough to help me a little in my work. While
traveling through different countries at times I have been engaged in
detective employment. The job now on hand staggers me. I am trailing two
of the most adroit villains that ever committed crime. Embezzlement,
perjury, conspiracy, attempts to kill and murder are some of the
offenses these have committed. Perhaps you have heard their names?
Pierre and Paul Lanier.'
"I gave a scream.
"'Do not be alarmed, little girl! Uncle Tom will take good care of you.'
"Uncle Thomas had arrived in London a few days after the report of
Thames drownings was published. Careful inquiry into all the
circumstances made it clear to him that the Laniers killed both Oswald
Langdon and me. Aided by an assistant, he went to work on the case.
"He and this man shadowed both Laniers and William Dodge at London.
Through this assistant was learned that a young woman, wounded nigh unto
death, had been rescued from the river by four disreputable characters,
and that for weeks she lodged in an old cabin, and only a few days
before left for her home in the city.
"These facts had been related by an old colored woman who nursed the
girl back to life and shielded her from indignities attempted by one of
these brutes.
"Feeling strong assurance that this girl might be his niece, he made
diligent search, going to numerous hotels and other places, but never
stating his purpose nor giving any hint of this settled conviction.
"On the morning of my leaving the inn he learned that a costermonger had
found a young woman, sick and bewildered, who, having lost her way, was
taken by him to a public-house. He learned the man's name and home.
Finding him, the desired information was given. Rapidly driving to the
inn, he entered, and saw my embarrassment. After my hurried departure he
made some careless inquiry about an object of assumed interest, soon
left, and found me trying to evade identification by running away from
my own Uncle Tom.
"He understood my reasons for not wishing to go home, and thought I
acted wisely. Uncle Thomas said:
"'Alice, if you will be brave and help me, we will yet outwit those
villainous Laniers.
"'It will be hard for you at times, and most disgusting, but the aim
justifies the means. The big estate stolen from your father by Pierre
Lanier yet may be recovered, and perhaps both Laniers be brought to
strict account for the murder of Oswald Langdon. I will devote time and
money to this purpose, and need your help.'
"To this generous appeal I could not be indifferent. While dreading the
thought of having anything to do with these cruel foes, refusal would be
base ingratitude. In fear I promised, but then had no idea of such long,
terrible mixing in future 'shadowings.' The fearful part I was to play
could not then have been clear to uncle's mind, but grew out of the
situation's intensely dramatic promptings and tragic power.
"Through this same assistant who had helped keep watch of the Laniers,
Uncle Thomas was advised as to their conduct since arrival at Bombay.
This man had come from London and Southampton with them. He lodged at
the same hotel.
"Paul freely spent money with a number of young fellows, who gave him
information about the wealthier people of the city.
"Pierre and Paul were reported as very rich. They were seeking
acquaintance with wealthy Bombay families. Both had been invited to a
social function at the home of a prominent man.
"Uncle Thomas said:
"'Alice, the money Paul is spending rightfully belongs to you. This
red-handed wretch will try to marry some aristocratic heiress. How fine
to snare him into a trap!'
"Then he suggested that with little difficulty I could assume an
effectual disguise.
"'Your previous voice-culture will help out the ruse. The Laniers doubt
not that you are lying in the Thames. Neither Lanier knows me. There may
be a few people in Bombay who would recognize your Uncle Tom. I will
avoid such, and as a precaution assume a new disguise. Through this
assistant of mine I will acquire reputation of immense wealth. As Sir
Charles Chesterton, a bachelor and multi-millionaire I will soon be an
object of social interest. Much attention will be paid you as the niece
and heir of such a rich uncle. You will be known as Agnes Randall.
Thoroughly disguised and under these assumed names, we will entertain
the Laniers. By playing well our parts, perhaps the whole Lanier
conspiracy may be laid bare, these wretches be brought to strict
account, and you recover your father's stolen estate.'
"Looking into my eyes, Uncle Thomas soothingly said:
"'Take plenty of time to think about it, little girl. Uncle Tom always
will be within call, and never let you be harmed. Be brave, and it will
come out all right. What proper avenging of Brother William's death,
your own wrongs, and of Oswald Langdon's murder!'
"With but faint hint of terrible after strain, nerved by these strong
appeals, I entered into this fearful covenant.
"Soon after this conversation Sir Charles Chesterton and Agnes Randall
received invitations to a ball given by a prominent Bombay resident.
They there met Paul Lanier.
"Formally presented, Paul soon became very affable, paying marked
attention to both niece and uncle. From the first, Paul appeared
predisposed in favor of these new acquaintances.
"I was shocked, feeling a sense of fear mingled with utter aversion. The
past so overwhelmed me as to render even common civilities loathsome,
yet I endeavored to play the part assigned.
"Gayeties of the occasion helped to ease my emotional strain, but when
all was over I felt much relieved.
"Uncle Thomas was greatly elated. He praised my acting, predicting
success.
"That assistant had dropped suggestive hints concerning Chesterton
wealth, and about a will bequeathing to favorite niece the bulk of a
princely fortune.
"During the evening Uncle Thomas found opportunities for brief chats
with Paul, and had been very pleasant.
"Paul appeared favorably impressed with Uncle Thomas. He hardly had
deigned to notice any one except Agnes Randall and Sir Charles
Chesterton.
"After this ball I often felt uneasy and presentiments of dread. In
dreams appeared vivid reproductions of past scenes.
"Uncle Thomas startled me with the announcement that he had invited Paul
Lanier to dine at our apartments. We were to royally entertain Paul, but
would be 'duly reserved, as befitted our wealthy and aristocratic
tastes.'
"This affair passed off without hitch. Within two days Paul called.
"Uncle Thomas and I treated him with apparent consideration. When Paul
was leaving, uncle said:
"'Call any time and often, Mr. Lanier.'
"Paul seemed greatly pleased with uncle's cordiality, and left smiling.
"Seeing how frightened I was, Uncle Thomas said:
"'Uncle Tom always will be eavesdropping when that lover calls.'
"My uncle had met Pierre Lanier. Shortly following Paul's call, Pierre
received an invitation to dine with Sir Charles Chesterton. Uncle Thomas
proved a most entertaining host, telling of many thrilling adventures in
which he had personal part. His recitals greatly interested Pierre.
"To me it seemed that uncle frequently had been mixed up in doubtful
schemes, but always evaded detection. I began to doubt his morals, and
finally concluded he had been a cruel, heartless trickster.
"Pierre seemed to note my pained embarrassment, and checked some vague
hints at his own villainous past.
"I suffered much during Pierre's stay. Having thought Uncle Thomas the
soul of honor, engaged in a high-principled crusade against crime,
generously sacrificing time and means to punish guilt and to right the
wrongs of the helpless, to hear him in low tones glibly telling of
villainous performances, often furtively glancing at me as if fearing I
might catch the drift of his talk, made me heartsick with growing
mistrust and painful forebodings. Uncle's narratives had been so
realistic that I began to dread Pierre's departure. My face must have
expressed some of these feelings, for when Pierre left, Uncle Thomas
looked me straight in the eyes and banteringly said:
"'What a villainous fellow Uncle Tom is, anyhow! I never knew before I
was so bad! If that close-mouthed old wretch dines here often, my little
girl will think him better than Uncle Tom!'
"I began to see uncle's crafty tactics, and must have looked at him in a
questioning, half-apologetic way.
"Uncle Thomas responded with:
"'Oh, you little suspicious innocence! I was only pumping.'
"I felt a heavy load lift from my heart, with growing admiration for
this wonderful uncle who could so dissemble. The thought that I, too,
might act such part and lure the cruel, vindictive, infatuated Paul by
consummate deceit now became fascinating.
"Uncle Thomas's cunning suggested great possibilities in clearing the
Lanier conspiracy. Neither Pierre nor Paul suspected my identity. They
then thought Alice Webster at the bottom of the Thames. All friends
believed me dead. I could return to London only when past conduct was
justified. Without this horrible affair fully cleared, there could be
nothing in life for me. What pressing claims awaited my actions! Here
only was opportunity.
"For many long years father's wrongs had been awaiting avenging; Oswald
Langdon was sleeping in Thames slime; I was an exile, robbed of home and
fortune; and the guilty Laniers were at large, seeking to ensnare
another victim.
"As supposed heir to fabulous wealth, how the real heiress would be
avenged! With what dissembling arts the infatuated Paul would be lured
to unwitting confessions! Through feminine wiles I would learn the facts
of Lanier guilt, and bring both to justice. Why longer fear any harm
from either of these cruel foes?
"Nerved by these sentiments, I became impatient for the test. Since
through such strain, maidenly scruples had been stifled, I felt equal to
any demands upon my dissembling arts.
"Both uncle and niece attended other social gatherings at which the
Laniers were present.
"Though Pierre and Paul were much flattered by Bombay elite, they seemed
most interested in Sir Charles Chesterton and Agnes Randall.
"The girl appeared to enjoy Paul's attentions. Soon it was rumored that
Paul and Agnes were engaged.
"Paul proposed, and was conditionally accepted. He asked uncle's
consent, who insisted on an inventory of all property belonging to the
Laniers. Paul furnished the list. Uncle Thomas took time to look it
over, and made copies. Concealed in a folding wardrobe, that assistant
heard all Paul's talk.
"Paul called often. Through questions and hints from me, he told much of
his past life, but gave wrong names, places, and dates. I would appear
pleased at any story which promised some revelation as to Calcutta or
London incidents. Paul was vague, and would abruptly change the
subject. Then I appeared bored and listless, when he would tell more,
but less disconnected, stories about his past. At each suggestive hint I
would show renewed interest, again lapsing into listless preoccupation,
uneasy dissatisfaction, or frigid unconcern. Paul noted each changing
mood, suiting his conduct to these varying caprices.
"At times I would feel an overwhelming sense of disgust at such
deceitful, unmaidenly occupation. Past recollections intruded with
startling clearness.
"Looking at the infatuated Paul, whose fingers, then nervously
twitching, surely would strangle me if he knew, I often shuddered and
felt deathly sick, but from such sensations rallied, with strong resolve
well to act my part.
"Even these moods appeared to interest Paul, who was most persistently
attentive.
"Through uncle's advice, Paul's calls were limited. Though dreading
these visits, there yet was a sort of fascination in my strange part.
The reaction from such strain was so depressing that I sought relief in
renewed excitement, and despite fear and loathing, felt a growing
passion and feverish zeal for success in outwitting these villains who
were responsible for all my sorrows. The more to stimulate Paul's
disclosures of past villainies, I made suggestive hints at infatuation
for dubious exploits and admiration of cruel, vengeful, crafty successes
which elude detection.
"Paul grows more confidingly boastful, omitting many connecting
circumstances.
"All the main facts of his Northfield and London crimes are related, but
with ingenious disguises.
"For some of the parts in these tragedies, fictitious characters are
substituted in place of real actors and the places are changed.
"I appear wonderfully thrilled at these recitals, and ask many questions
about obscure parts, insisting on frequent repetitions.
"Pierre Lanier accepted numerous invitations to dine with Sir Charles
Chesterton.
"At first Uncle Thomas showed lack of interest in Pierre's guarded talk.
As the intimacy between the two grew closer, Pierre relaxed much of his
secretive caution. Over their glasses Uncle Thomas and Pierre seemed to
compete with each other in tales of villainous performances. When Pierre
grew unusually confidential, and touched on Calcutta or London crimes,
Uncle Thomas would show signs of approval, but sometimes appeared to
caution his guest against indiscreet revelations. After relating some
horrible yarns about his own successes in amassing fabulous wealth and
merciless crushing of all who impeded him in such schemes, Uncle Thomas
would say:
"'It is not proper for me to enjoin secrecy. I know you will never
betray a friend's trust.'
"Pierre grows more confidential. He boasts of having acquired vast
interests in Calcutta and India. With some changes, he tells about his
heartless persecution, under friendly guise, of a slow-witted,
unsuspecting, rich Englishman, a former associate in large business
enterprises.
"Having induced this partner to make some large cash advances upon
collaterals, and himself received the bulk of the money, he then brought
about a crisis in which the Englishman required much ready funds. When,
through Pierre's scheme, it became impossible for the partner to tide
over such shortage, a Shylock accomplice, upon most grinding terms,
advanced from cash formerly loaned by Pierre's unsuspecting victim a
sufficient sum briefly to postpone the accounting. When the debts
matured, payment was demanded. The helpless debtor made frantic attempts
to raise the money, but failed.
"These pledged collaterals had been turned over to the last
money-lender, but in reality to Pierre Lanier, who claimed to have lost
them in a recent robbery.
"The creditor was obdurate, threatening legal proceedings to enforce his
claims. Pierre enlarged upon the probability that all his partner's
personal estate, if sold under the hammer, would not pay these debts.
His business associate then would be worse than penniless. He induced
the frantic debtor to deed him all real property except a small parcel
in London, promising to sell at advantage, pay the claims, and
faithfully account for the residue.
"After the deed had been delivered, Pierre induced this accomplice to
threaten his harassed victim with arrest for fraud and conspiracy in
thus disposing of all property.
"Under guise of friendly adviser, Pierre appeared much worried over his
partner's troubles. He magnified the impending disgrace of bankruptcy
and imprisonment.
"The proud, sensitive debtor, after a few days' hopeless worry, goaded
by threats, made desperate through Pierre's crafty, hypocritical
sympathy and deceitful insinuations, was found in the river.
"This partner had one child, a girl, who afterward died. There had been
attempts to deprive Pierre of this property, which was now of great
value. All adverse claims had been quieted. The shares of stock had
advanced and dividends were regular. From the proceeds he and Paul were
insured luxurious living and large, increased incomes, with swelling
bank credits.
"At times Pierre would seem to repent of his confidences and to plan
against discovery by some adroit qualifications, but Uncle Thomas eased
all concern by saying:
"'Oh, that's all right! I am deeper in the pool than you.'
"Whenever Pierre told of these exploits, the assistant was listening.
Uncle Thomas kept his promise to act as eavesdropper during Paul's
calls.
"After both Pierre and Paul had confided many of the facts of their
criminal conspiracy and other offenses, Uncle Thomas told me that he
purposed taking a trip to Calcutta. Thus might be learned details of
what Pierre had suggested but ingeniously disguised. Perhaps, if we went
together, the Laniers might grow suspicious. He would not leave me in
Bombay if I feared to remain. I could limit Paul's calls to suit myself,
and that assistant would be at my service.
"Trembling at the thought of being alone in Bombay, Uncle Thomas far off
in Calcutta, and the Laniers making frequent calls, I felt desolate at
the outlook. He guessed at my emotions, and said:
"'Just say the word, little girl, and Uncle Tom stays!'
"I then advised him to go alone, but to return as soon as possible.
"Upon hearing of uncle's intentions, Pierre concluded to sail for
Calcutta at the same time. Learning that I purposed remaining in Bombay,
Paul decided that he did not care then to take another sea voyage.
"Uncle Thomas was gratified at both conclusions. He could use Pierre in
Calcutta, and though it good to separate these rascals for a while.
"I felt much relieved that but one of these dreaded foes would remain in
Bombay during uncle's absence. Uncle Thomas and Pierre Lanier sailed
together.
"Paul made frequent calls. By practicing all sorts of capricious humors,
I sought to smother feelings of dread and aversion, but at times became
so interested in these deceitful practices and in watching their effects
upon Paul as to forget former persecutions. While thus absorbed, it
often seemed that the past had been but a cruelly delusive dream. It
could not be that the soft, insinuating tones of Paul Lanier masked such
base, bloody purposes. Those bejeweled fingers, tremulously eager to
caress, surely were not those of a red-handed murderer! Yet if my wiles
succeeded, those hands would wear manacles, those fingers convulsively
clutch at vacancy, and that musical voice choke with tense strain of the
hangman's knot.
"At such times pity would unnerve my strong resolve, but Paul's
realistic repetitions of his crimes dispelled such illusions, and I
again aspired to be a scheming, determined Nemesis, aided by lure of
woman's craft.
"Some time before uncle's return I had received a letter stating when he
would sail, but did not tell Paul until after his arrival in Bombay.
Then, with assumed glee, I informed him that uncle had left Calcutta and
within a week would be back. His letter was cheerful, and he seemed to
be very happy. I requested him to defer again calling for two days.
"Paul called on Thursday evening.
"Uncle Thomas, that assistant, and I had prepared a great surprise.
"I often had noticed that Paul was very superstitious, fearful of unreal
dangers. It occurred to me that a scare would be suitable entertainment
for Paul's last visit. Uncle Thomas had planned our departure from
Bombay for Calcutta on the next steamer. The vessel would sail on Friday
morning, and our passage already had been engaged. We would go aboard
soon after midnight, and the ship was to sail in the early morning.
"I chose a tableau for Paul. Aided by Uncle Thomas and that assistant,
the performance was staged. During that day there had been two
rehearsals. That assistant manipulated the lights. Uncle Thomas had
produced a copy of _London Press_ containing a graphic account of the
Thames drownings. This he ornamented with heavy red headlines. The paper
is lying on a small table in uncle's room.
"Dressed in that Thames clothing, over which hangs a draping of seaweed,
my hair combed back from the temples, I await Paul's evening call.
"With loaded pistols Uncle Thomas occupies my room. Fully armed, the
assistant is hiding in the folding wardrobe.
"The house-servant is directed to admit any male caller into the room
usually occupied by Sir Charles Chesterton.
"The bell is soon rung, and Paul is ushered according to directions.
"Pouring over my head a pitcher of warm water, daubing the temple scar
with thin, red liquid paint, from darkened room I watch Paul through
slightly open connecting door, which has been effectively braced against
pressure from that side.
"Paul picks up the paper, glares frightfully, turns deathly pale, and
shakes with fear.
"Just then, with uplifted hand, I slowly enter, approaching Paul as if
to strike him down. Paul falls upon the floor, begging me to spare him.
"Slowly stepping backward, and passing into the next room, I softly
close the connecting door. Quickly slipping off the disguise, removing
the paint-stains and arranging my hair, I recite parts of a poem about
Eugene Aram, then light the gas and say something about Mr. Lanier being
late. Paul opens the connecting door, and I explain how the mistake
occurred.
"Paul seems satisfied, but nervous. He remains longer than usual,
appearing afraid to leave. As midnight is near, I assume a listless air
of indifference. Paul takes the hint, and goes.
"Shortly afterward, two vehicles drive up. Trunks are first taken,
accompanied by that assistant sleuth. Disguised in suit of his clothes,
I enter the other conveyance. Uncle Thomas soon follows. In a short time
after bidding Paul Lanier good-night, I was asleep aboard the steamer,
and did not awake until miles at sea."
Sir Donald intently had listened to that part of the girl's narrative
about the trip from London to Southampton, and thence to Bombay. His
wonder and admiration grew with her frank, dramatic, yet timid recital
of tactics employed to elicit incriminating clews from the secretive
Laniers. Alice had shown marked heroism remaining alone at Bombay, and
in her strange treatment of the infatuated Paul. These experiences had
left an indelible impress upon Alice, whose confiding sincerity and
generous impulsiveness always must bear effects of the shock, but that
tableau and recital revealed a tragic craft foreign to such a nature,
bordering the verge of madness.
How under pressure intense natures evolve new traits and latent powers
become dominant!
Seeing that Sir Donald seemed in a reverie, Alice awaited invitation to
proceed. Her face bore such a weary, questioning look that he proposed
that they join Esther and Charles. To this Alice nervously objected,
saying:
"I ought to see Uncle Thomas."
Sir Donald then suggested that she see her uncle, and that both dine
with his family. Alice objected with some energy, closing with these
words:
"Not until my whole story is told will I meet Esther or your son."
Sir Donald admired the commendable deference and spirit of the girl's
sentiments. It was then arranged that on the following day Alice would
finish her story.
The next afternoon the recital is continued.
"Though the trip from Bombay to Calcutta was rough, I felt great relief.
The strain since arrival at Bombay had been fearful. Sitting on deck,
gently swaying with the ship's motion, watching seabirds, looking at
approaching squalls, or tossing in stress of tropic storms, proved a
restful quiet for my fevered consciousness. Such change reversed the
whole current of thought, driving away the awful past. Neither Lanier
would harass me on this journey.
"Uncle Thomas left his old-time assistant at Bombay to shadow Paul.
Arrangements to communicate with each other had been made. If Paul
should quit Bombay, that assistant would be on the same vessel. We
surmised that Paul would join his father at Calcutta.
"On board ship, Uncle Thomas and I assumed new disguises. In Calcutta we
were known as father and daughter.
"Later Uncle Thomas often met Pierre Lanier, but himself remained
unknown.
"Soon after our arrival, that assistant landed at Calcutta and reported
to Uncle Thomas. Paul and he came from Bombay on the same ship.
"After the tenants left, Paul had called at Chesterton apartments. To
his questions the family could give no satisfactory information. Paul
seemed much worried over the removal of Agnes Randall. He received a
letter and awaited departure of next steamer for Calcutta.
"Paul engaged passage and was booked as 'Josiah Peters.' He was
disguised as an old man, with stooping walk and white, flowing beard.
"Uncle Thomas continued his investigations of Calcutta property
interests formerly owned by my father, but gained little further
information.
"Both Pierre and Paul were closely watched. Uncle enlisted the head of
Calcutta police department to help shadow these men and to keep him
advised of their conduct. From him uncle learned that you and Esther
were there. You had been making search and inquiry for the Dodge family.
In hopes to gain helpful clews and to keep posted as to exact condition
of other investigations of Lanier crimes, that assistant shadowed you
and Esther. At the same time Uncle Thomas and the police watched the
Laniers.
"The assistant was a slim, dark-complexioned, trim man, with black
close-cut whiskers and heavy mustache, but posed as an old, shabbily
dressed fellow, with halting gait, gray hair, and snow-white beard,
moving feebly by aid of a cane.
"Pierre had been traced to a cabin in a poor part of the city, where
lived a needy woman with a family of small children. The Laniers
inquired about the probable time when a certain vessel was expected, and
haunted the landing. Night of the ship's arrival both visited this cabin
and afterward saw passengers go ashore. One of these followed Pierre."
Alice now told about the Laniers and this stranger going to that
deserted house in city suburb; how Pierre and Paul again called at the
cabin, and of visit from veiled woman next day at that old house.
Unexpected swoop of police and arrest of the three men followed. The
stranger was William Dodge, and veiled caller his wife. As Sir Donald
knew these facts, she would not relate them, further than to explain
some things which he might wish to know.
"Aided by Calcutta police, Uncle Thomas closely watched every movement
of the Laniers, while his assistant shadowed you and Esther.
"Through you the police official learned that William Dodge was expected
on the next steamer, and about his being in danger from these villains.
In the same way the proposed meeting in that deserted house was
discovered.
"Precautions against assaults upon Mr. and Mrs. Dodge were taken.
"Uncle Thomas and his assistant thought the time had come for a bold
move. By arresting both Laniers and William Dodge the whole conspiracy
would be confessed. William Dodge would accuse the Laniers, and they
would implicate him. With Paul's and Pierre's Bombay confidences,
corroborated by Dodge's expected confession, conviction of the Laniers
would follow. William Dodge would explain that in bringing the London
suit he was only a pliant tool of the Laniers, and they would blame all
on him. Then he would retaliate by telling about the Thames murders.
These recriminations, the vague Bombay confessions, supplemented by
other facts already known, and further information obtainable through
such powerful clews, would unravel the whole web of criminal connivance,
bringing both Pierre and Paul to strict account."
Alice then told of the tactics employed, William Dodge's Calcutta
confession, and the Lanier reserve. Dodge had no actual knowledge of
Paul's assaults upon Alice and Oswald, but related what he knew of the
circumstances. He fully explained his and Lanier complicity in bringing
the suit, with all after procedure in the action, including its
dismissal.
Alice narrated some parts of this confession, which agreed with that
formerly made in Paris hospital by William Dodge. It was full, but
disappointing.
"Strenuous efforts to induce the Laniers to talk were fruitless. They
made no responses. We surmised that neither cared to assert his rights
by demanding a hearing or trial. They were kept jailed several weeks, in
expectation of some revelations. At last the officers and Uncle Thomas
decided to turn them loose, but still to keep William Dodge in custody.
Thus might Lanier conduct be observed without danger of this important
witness being spirited away or forever silenced.
"William Dodge himself did not protest against his continued
imprisonment.
"For a few days Pierre and Paul nervously moved about in Calcutta, and
then quit the city.
"That assistant left at the same time, and following them to different
points, reaches London, lodging across an alley, in full view of the
basement stairway leading to the room occupied by Pierre and Paul.
"For a long time after the Laniers sailed, Uncle Thomas and I remained
in Calcutta.
"Letters telling of Lanier movements came from that assistant to Uncle
Thomas. Then during the following weeks nothing was heard. We began to
worry, fearing some accident had happened. Perhaps he had fallen victim
to Lanier vengeance. This would be most unfortunate for me. Sufficient
facts already had been discovered upon which to base actions against
Pierre Lanier for frauds upon the estate of my father, and for that
London conspiracy involving the suit begun by William Dodge. I could not
think of such notoriety until the Thames assaults and murder were
cleared, and never would risk public scandal among friends in London.
"These were the motives inducing uncle to advise that Pierre and Paul
be released from Calcutta imprisonment. Too, the murder of Oswald
Langdon must be avenged."
Sir Donald smiled at Alice's earnest explanations, but awaited her
story's ending.
"At length came a letter from London informing Uncle Thomas of Lanier
arrivals and shadowings by his old-time helper. We soon after sailed for
England. Full details were given by that assistant, and with much zeal
Uncle Thomas resumed his former work.
"Much of the time I kept out of public view, lodging at the obscure inn.
"Pierre seldom left the basement room at night, but Paul then made many
strange excursions, often prowling up and down the Thames.
"The assistant began to notice queer freaks in Paul's conduct. The first
evidences of these were after their return to London.
"The reports startled me, as it seemed Paul feared I yet might rise from
the river, and that he was determined to prevent it. Many nights Paul
would skulk along the river-banks and peer over into the Thames from the
place where we had been struck into the stream. Later he took boat-rides
up and down the river, past this spot, closely scrutinizing projecting
shrubs until opposite the rustic seat, when, rowing back and forth
across the river, Paul would pause and strike at some reflection from
the water, then be seated and drift downstream.
"As these incidents were related by that assistant and Uncle Thomas, I
felt horrible dread. This craze of Paul's seemed almost a judgment upon
my head. Such determined malice against the girl he had slain, yet
feared still might rise from her slimy grave, was beyond belief, yet I
could not doubt the evidences. My curiosity was increased, and I felt a
strong desire to witness Paul's new infatuation. In male disguise I
watched from hiding some of this madman's night performances upon and
along the river.
"Though at first dreadfully shocked and nearly dead with fright, my
curiosity grew with each watch. Uncle Thomas refused longer indulgence,
except at rare intervals.
"Before our arrival at London that assistant had followed Paul to
Northfield.
"Paul's conduct there had been strange, but he seemed desirous of
learning the whereabouts of you and Esther.
"Later, Paul again visited Northfield, and I witnessed some of his
actions. Uncle Thomas, the assistant, and I were hidden in thick
shrubbery near the spot where Northfield visitors often sat along the
lake. Paul had been skulking through the woods, but could not see us.
Between us and him was that steep ravine. Suddenly Paul struck a tragic
pose, lifted his right hand, advanced a few steps, then slowly stepped
backward out of sight beyond a cluster of bushes.
"These movements, though very startling, were followed by still greater
surprises.
"Soon out of leafy stillness came quotations from that poem partly
declaimed by me at Bombay.
"Such utterances at that time and place from this crazed outlaw,
reiterated with madman's unction, were horrible.
"After repetition of phrases, 'buried from my sight,' 'and trodden down
with stones,' Paul hesitated, as if pondering the improbability of such
fate to his victims' mortal remains; then broke out in a hysterical
laugh.
"I was eager, and prompted:
"'And years have rotted off his flesh,'
"Paul turned, facing that way, uttered terrible curses, gave a crazed
yell of fear, and stood staring into vacancy, when in deep gutturals I
repeated:
"'The world shall see his bones.'
"At this Paul staggered, made wild thrusts with his dagger in direction
whence came these promptings, and then fled.
"On the next train, watched by that assistant, Paul returned to London.
"Uncle Thomas and I saw you with Esther rowing upon the lake. This was
just after Paul's flight. Until then we did not know of your return from
Calcutta.
"I felt a growing interest in Paul's Thames tableaus. One night Uncle
Thomas allowed me to watch with him along the river-bank. Paul takes his
usual row up the Thames. We are hiding in some shrubbery beyond the
rustic seat. Paul's boat arrives opposite that point in the river, and
he repeats former performances.
"After steadying the boat with an oar, holding in set teeth that
gleaming dagger, moving back and forth across the river, peering over at
watery reflections, and making savage thrusts, Paul is again seated,
drifting down the stream.
"Uncle Thomas and I are following, when another spy emerges from a
cluster of bushes farther down, keeping slightly in rear of the boat, a
short distance from shore.
"Uncle and I are a few feet apart. I am ahead. Both of us are eager, but
cautious. The grass and bushes rustle, but that spy is too intent for
hearing or fear. The chase grows exciting.
"Drifting around a curve, the boat is out of sight. That stranger runs
forward, trips and falls on the river's brink. I was alarmed, as it
seemed sure that this man would fall into the current. I paused at the
edge of leafy foliage. To my relief the fallen man recovers his
footing. Giving a look to where I stood partly concealed, he hurries
on, badly limping, as if in pain. Uncle Thomas signaled me to keep back,
and we followed cautiously at greater distance, but soon after lost
sight of this limping spy.
"I was nearly exhausted with the chase. Just before reaching the point
of starting, we rested over an hour, and then went to the inn.
"Next day that assistant told of both Pierre and Paul having spent most
of the night away from their room. Contrary to custom, Pierre went out
first. A few minutes afterward, Paul left, starting in an opposite
direction from that taken by his father. Puzzled at this change in
Lanier habits, and fearing some new flight, the assistant followed, but
soon losing sight of Paul, returned to watch that cellar stairway.
"After midnight, Paul came back. Limping around the corner, faint and
exhausted, hours later, Pierre staggered down the stairs.
"We were then sure this spy was Pierre Lanier, who for the first time
had witnessed Paul's Thames infatuation. This was confirmed later by
Pierre's limping walk.
"It became apparent to Uncle Thomas and his assistant that other
shadowings were occurring. Spies upon their actions, as well as those of
the Laniers, watched regular shifts. They suspected that in some way you
were responsible for this, but doubted that you had any hint of their
identity.
"Another discreet helper was employed by Uncle Thomas, to report any
interesting happenings at Northfield.
"That you visited London and called at a detective agency was reported.
This helper followed you back to Northfield, and reported Charles
Randolph's return from abroad. Later the same spy followed your son to
London, and told Uncle Thomas at what hotel Charles stopped.
"In slight disguise we quit the inn, going to this hotel, and with but
short absences remaining until I was recognized by you and Esther.
"It was known to us that Charles helped shadow the Laniers, often
calling at the same detective agency formerly visited by you.
"Both Uncle Thomas and I had noticed that Charles seemed interested in
us, but we attributed this to possible detection of our guarded
observations of his actions. I sometimes wondered at Charles's interest,
fearing that possibly he suspected my identity. At meals this feeling
embarrassed me, but Uncle Thomas insisted on our dining at the same
time, when he could watch Charles's actions.
"To me it often seemed strange that persons planning for like ends,
engaged in similar work to right human wrongs and to punish the guilty,
should spy upon each other, scheming and operating at cross-purposes. I
hardly could refrain from appealing to Charles to help in my troubles,
and from the first was sure he would be such a good, faithful friend.
Why should not you, Charles, and Esther become my confidential allies,
helping us to unravel this web? I hinted this to Uncle Thomas, who would
not think of such a 'rash break.'
"Later on, for a few days, we stopped at the inn.
"It had been reported that Paul was showing quarrelsome traits, and at
any time might commit some murderous assault. These agency sleuths had
become troublesome, hampering Uncle Thomas in his determined watches
upon Lanier conduct. Through competing zeal at any time might occur some
unfortunate clash. Those agency employes were argus-eyed, watching each
move made by him and his assistants. Doubtless the man sent by Uncle
Thomas to Northfield was being shadowed and his doings were reported to
agency headquarters.
"For these reasons Uncle Thomas decided that we would return to that
obscure inn. This change was made at a late hour, and I went alone.
Uncle Thomas left before, and by a long route reached the ambush beyond
the rustic seat.
"Next morning he reported that Paul did not appear. Calling at the
cabin where that old-time assistant kept watch, Uncle Thomas learned
that early the previous evening Paul left, but had not returned. Pierre
was in the basement room.
"The following night Uncle Thomas watched along the river, but again was
disappointed. Next morning he called upon that assistant, but finding
the door securely fastened, returned and slept a few hours. In the
afternoon he again called, but could obtain no response.
"That night Uncle Thomas resumed his watch along the Thames. He saw
Pierre Lanier prowling up and down the river, followed by that same
assistant. Next morning Pierre inquired of police officials as to any
arrests made within the last two days and nights. He then returned to
the basement room, trailed by that assistant and Uncle Thomas.
"Pierre had gone out the previous morning, during all that day and the
following night searching for Paul. The third night after Paul's
disappearance was spent by Pierre along the river, trailed as before.
Next day Pierre did not return to his room until afternoon.
"In the early evening a letter came by special messenger to Uncle Thomas
at the inn. It was from that helper at Northfield, stating that Paul
Lanier was then skulking about in the timber along the lake. On the
previous night Paul had been close to the Northfield mansion grounds,
but evidently became aware that a sentinel was on guard. Paul surely
meditated mischief, but the writer thought sufficient precautions
against surprise had been taken by Sir Donald Randolph.
"The contents of this letter, with knowledge of Paul's crafty malice and
murderous zeal, greatly alarmed me. It seemed that ordinary watchfulness
would not avail against Paul's crazed, homicidal mania. If you or Esther
fell a victim to Paul's knife, it would be chargeable to your friendship
for me. Was it right that through acquiescence in any mode of procedure
advised by others I should permit such friends to be ruthlessly
butchered by a madman?
"To Uncle Thomas I told my fears, but he thought there was little danger
to any one at Northfield through Paul's crazy breaks.
"'For months this insane wretch has been a harmless lunatic, practicing
his night tableaus through some purposeless infatuation.'
"With this remark he dismissed the subject, but went out, secured a cab,
and drove to that cabin across the alley from the Lanier room. The
assistant was directed to take the first train for Northfield, and keep
close watch of Paul's every act. Uncle Thomas remained at the cabin.
"After uncle went out I still felt nervous and a strong presentiment
that peril hung over the Randolph household. With each effort to think
of other things, this feeling grew stronger. There was something so
awful as to overpower all habitual obedience to Uncle Thomas.
"I thought of Charles Randolph. Perhaps Charles was at the hotel,
unconscious of dangers threatening those he loved. Without any plan of
action I caught up the veil presented at London by Uncle Thomas, sped
from my room, hailed a passing cabman, urging him to drive fast to that
hotel. Going at once to the room occupied by Charles Randolph, I
knocked, and was admitted. On the way there I had thought out a mode of
broaching the subject to Charles and of hiding my identity, but when in
his presence this all became blank, and some other things were said. He
promised to go home at once, and I returned to the inn.
"I did not tell Uncle Thomas about this call. He remained at that cabin
all night, the next day, and until the following morning.
"I called at the cabin. Uncle Thomas told me that Paul was in London.
This seemed strange, but he explained that there was an early morning
train from station near the Northfield premises. Paul doubtless came
back, on that train, and reached the room before daylight. That day
neither Paul nor Pierre was seen on the street. My uncle closely
watched the basement room.
"On early morning train of the following day both assistants came from
Northfield and hurried to that old cabin. They explained Paul's assault
on a guard at entrance to the Northfield mansion grounds and the murder
of the sentinel.
"Uncle Thomas acted promptly. He went out and called up a prominent
police official, notifying him to bring help and arrest two desperate
villains.
"The three men waited at the entrance to that old stairway until five
police officials appeared.
"Listening at the basement door, these heard scuffling inside, curses,
and suppressed yells. Then all noises ceased. There was no response to
continued knockings. The door yielded to pressure, and the officials
entered.
"With dirty, blood-stained clothing, hair disheveled, and face begrimed,
froth upon his lips, lay Paul upon the stone floor. Across Paul's breast
was Pierre, pale and motionless.
"At first both were thought dead. It was soon discovered that Pierre had
only swooned. Water was dashed upon his face. He revived and stared
about vacantly. Slowly what had happened dawned upon his mind, but he
seemed stupid, saying nothing.
"Pierre intently gazed at Paul's unconscious form, but looked blank
when questioned by the officials.
[Illustration: "THEN BEHOLDING PIERRE IRONED AND HELPLESS, PAUL BURST
OUT IN A HYSTERICAL LAUGH."]
"After some time Paul showed signs of returning consciousness, slowly
revived, and seeing his captors, became furious. Then beholding Pierre
ironed and helpless, Paul burst out in a hysterical laugh, which was
followed by frantic appeals for protection against his father's imagined
wrath. Both were taken to prison.
"For various reasons Uncle Thomas then had procured the arrests. As news
of that Northfield murder came through his agents, it was his duty to
inform the proper officials. For months he and his employes had shadowed
both Laniers, witnessing Paul's crazed acts, and it was known that they
had done this. These assistants were in the immediate neighborhood of
Northfield when this murder occurred. It would be inquired, why such
continued shadowings, yet failure to prevent this crime? The whole
matter would be thoroughly probed. This murder could not be concealed
without guilty responsibility. Proof of Oswald Langdon's death was not
conclusive. It never might be clearer with Paul hung or in a madhouse.
If we had taken proper action to restrain this madman, the murder never
would have occurred. Better to take decisive steps and assist the
officers than appear to condone crime. All we had planned and worked
for would fare better through prompt procedure. Possibly out of this
very tangle might come clearance of the unhappy, troubled past.
"Such motives prompted Uncle Thomas to decisive action in procuring
these second arrests of Pierre and Paul Lanier.
"Just how or when my part in this drama is to be revealed neither Uncle
Thomas nor I yet have decided. I greatly dread the trial.
"At times I seem standing, dizzy, bewildered, and speechless, upon the
brink of a yawning chasm. Then appears a light beyond, beckoning me to
try the plunge.
"Occasionally, in day-dreams, a hand, not spectral, but inspiringly real
and familiar, seems drawing me toward new earthly life and joy; but such
fancies are fleeting. The old dread of social ostracism and of
suspicious aversion returns with increased power. I have no
consciousness of wrong-doing, yet maidenly ideals have been shocked by
my conduct, and the place for Alice Webster is outside the pale of
social recognition.
"Afternoon of the day upon which occurred the arrests Uncle Thomas
decided again to move. To show no attempt at privacy, we returned to the
hotel. Both of us were surprised to see your family in the dining-room.
"Uncle Thomas could act unconcerned under any circumstances, but I felt
so helplessly embarrassed. As you and Esther looked so intently I was
sure you saw through that simple disguise. A sense of shame at such
conduct made me faint and heartsick. To escape this I quit the table,
going to my room. Soon after, through the open connecting door, I saw
you and Uncle Thomas enter, and then knew a crisis had come.
"Uncle Thomas related what you had said, and I was greatly puzzled. Your
reasons for not promising to keep his proposed confidences then and ever
since seemed unaccountable. He advised that we return to the inn, there
to await clearing of increasing difficulties.
"What since occurred you well know. I hope to be forgiven for all my
strange, unmaidenly conduct. The very worst has been told, except that
words can never tell the painful experiences and sorrowful memories of
the unhappy past."
Pausing, Alice gave a look of questioning appeal into the expressive,
sympathetic face of Sir Donald Randolph. He seemed struggling with some
unwonted emotional impediment to proper speech. Rising, he extended his
hand, took that of this interesting young woman, and bowing low, in a
husky voice said:
"Make no apologies, Alice! You are all right."
Alice felt much relieved, but the strain had been great. For a while she
leaned back in wearied collapse.
Sir Donald suggested that she await her uncle, while he saw his family.
After the evening meal, he would esteem it a favor to have all meet at
Esther's room.
This invitation was accepted.
Sir Donald notified Thomas Webster that Alice awaited him, adding:
"What a grand girl!"