THE ANSWER TO A RIDDLE
A few of the Duchess's guests left early--those who had to drive a
long distance, and who had not yet discarded their carriage horses for
motor-cars. Afterwards the party seemed to draw into a little circle,
and it was then that the Duchess, rising to her feet, went over and
talked earnestly for a few minutes with Saton.
"Some slight thing!" she begged. "Anything to set these people
wondering! Look at that old stick Henry Rochester, for instance. He
believes nothing--doesn't want to believe anything. Give him a shock,
do!"
"Can't you understand, Duchess," Saton said, "how much harm we do to
ourselves by any exhibition of the sort you suggest? People are at
once inclined to look upon the whole thing as a clever trick, and go
about asking one another how it is done."
The Duchess was disappointed, and inclined to be pettish. Saton
realized it, and after a moment's hesitation prepared to temporize.
"If it would amuse you," he said, "and I can find anyone here to help
me, I daresay we could manage some thought transference. All London
seems to be going to see those two people at the Alhambra--or is it
the Empire? You can see the same thing here, if you like."
The Duchess beamed.
"That would be delightful," she said. "Whom would you like to help
you?"
"Leave me alone for a minute or two," Saton said. "I will look around
and choose somebody."
The Duchess stepped back into the circle of her guests.
"Mr. Saton is going to entertain us in a very wonderful manner," she
announced.
Rochester, who had been on his way to the billiard room, came back.
"Let us stay and see the tricks," he remarked to the bishop, who had
been his companion.
The Duchess frowned. Saton shot a sudden glance at Rochester. A dull,
angry color burned in his cheeks.
"Stay, by all means, Mr. Rochester," he said. "We may possibly be able
to interest you."
There was almost a challenge in his words. Rochester, ignoring them
save for his slightly uplifted eyebrows, sat down by the side of
Pauline.
"The fellow's cheek is consummate!" he muttered.
"I need," Saton remarked quietly, "what I suppose Mr. Rochester would
call a confederate. I can only see one whom I think would be
temperamently suitable. Will you help me?" he asked, turning suddenly
toward Pauline.
"No!" Rochester answered sternly. "Lady Marrabel will have nothing to
do with your performance."
Rochester bit his lip the moment he had spoken. He felt that he had
made a mistake. One or two of the guests looked at him curiously. The
Duchess was literally open-mouthed. Saton was smiling in a peculiar
manner.
"In that case," he remarked quietly, "if Mr. Rochester has spoken with
authority, I fear that I can do nothing."
The Duchess was very nearly angry.
"Don't be such an idiot, Henry!" she said. "Of course Pauline will
help. What is it you want her to do, Mr. Saton?"
"Nothing at all," he answered, "except to sit in a corner of the room,
as far from me as possible, and answer the questions which I shall ask
her, if she be able. You will do that?" turning suddenly towards her.
"Of course she will!" the Duchess declared. "Be quiet, Henry. You are
a stupid, prejudiced person, and I won't have you interfere."
Pauline rose to her feet.
"I am afraid," she said, "that I can scarcely be of much use, but of
course I don't mind trying."
Saton was standing a little away, with his elbow leaning upon the
mantelpiece.
"If two of you," he said, helping himself to a cigarette, and
deliberately lighting it, "will take Lady Marrabel over--say to that
oak chair underneath the banisters--blindfold her, and then leave her.
Really I ought to apologize for what I am going to do. Everything is
so very obvious. Still, if it amuses you!"
Pauline sat by herself. The others were all gathered together in the
far corner of the great hall. Saton turned to the bishop.
"This is only a repetition of the sort of thing which you have
doubtless seen," he said. "Have you anything in your pocket which you
are quite sure that Lady Marrabel knows nothing of?"
Silently the bishop produced a small and worn Greek Testament. Saton
opened it at random. Then he turned suddenly toward the figure of the
woman sitting alone in the distance. Some change had taken place in
his manner and in his bearing. Those who watched him closely were at
once aware of it. His teeth seemed to have come together, the lines of
his face to have become tense. He leaned a little forward toward
Pauline.
"I have something in my hands," he said. "I wonder if you can tell me
what it is."
There was no answer. They listened and watched. Pauline never spoke.
Already a smile was parting Rochester's lips.
"I think, Lady Marrabel," Saton said slowly, "that you can tell me, if
you will. I think that you will tell me. I think that you must!"
Something that sounded almost like a half-stifled sob came to them
from across the hall--and then Pauline's voice.
"It is a small book," she said--"a Testament."
"Go on," Saton said.
"A Greek Testament!" Pauline continued. "It is open at--at the sixth
chapter of St. Mark."
Saton passed it round. The Duchess beamed with delight upon everybody.
Saton seemed only modestly surprised at the interest which everyone
displayed.
"We are only doing something now," he said, "which has already been
done, and proved easy. The only trouble is, of course, that Lady
Marrabel being a stranger to me, the effort is a little greater. If
you will be content with one more test of this sort, I will try, if
you like, something different--something, at any rate, which has not
been done in a music-hall."
A gold purse was passed to him, with a small monogram inscribed. Again
Pauline slowly, and even as though against her will, described
correctly the purse and its contents.
Saton brushed away the little murmurs of surprise and delight.
"Come," he said, "this is all nothing. It really--as you will all of
you know in a few years time--can be done by any one of you who
chooses seriously to develop the neglected part of his or her
personality. I should like to try something else which would be more
interesting to you."
The Duchess turned towards him with clasped hands.
"Can't you," she said, "make her say how Mr. Rochester met with his
accident?"
There was a little thrill amongst everyone. Saton stood as though
absorbed in thought.
"Why not?" he said softly to himself.
Rochester laughed hardly.
"Come," he said, "we are getting practical at last. Let one thing be
understood, though. If our young friend here is really able to solve
this little mystery, he will not object to my making use of his
discovery."
"By no means," Saton answered. "But I warn you that if the person is
one unknown to Lady Marrabel or myself, I cannot tell you who it was.
All that I can do is perhaps to show you something of how the thing
was done."
"It will be most interesting!" Rochester declared.
There was a subdued murmur of thrilled voices. One or two looked at
each other uneasily. Even the Duchess began to feel a little
uncomfortable. Saton was suddenly facing Pauline. He was standing a
little nearer, with the fingers of his right hand resting upon the
round oak table which stood in the centre of the hall. His figure had
become absolutely rigid, and the color had left his cheeks. His voice
seemed to them to come from some other person.
"Listen," he said, bending even a little further toward the woman, who
was leaning forward now from her chair, as though eager or compelled
to hear what was being said to her. "A month--six weeks--some time
ago, you were with Henry Rochester, a few minutes after his accident.
He was shot--or he shot himself. He was shot by design or by
misadventure. You were the first to find him. You came round the
corner of the wood, and you saw him there, lying upon the grass. You
heard a shot just before--two shots. You came round the corner of the
wood, and you saw nothing except the body of Henry Rochester lying
upon the ground."
"Nothing!" she murmured. "Nothing!"
There was an intense silence. The little group of people were all
leaning forward with eyes riveted upon Pauline Marrabel. Even
Rochester's expression had become a little tense.
"Think again," Saton said. "There was only a corner of the wood
between you and that field when the shot was fired. You are walking
there now, now, as the shots are fired. Bend forward. You can see
through those trees if you try. I think that you do see through them."
Again he paused. Again there were a few seconds' silence--silence save
for the quick breathing of the Duchess, who was crumpling her lace
handkerchief into a little ball in her hands.
Then Pauline's voice came to them.
"There is a gun laid against a gate which leads into the field," she
said--"a gun, and by its side a bag of cartridges. Someone has been
hiding behind the wall. He has the gun in his hands. He looks along
the path. There is no one coming."
A woman from the little group of people commenced to sob softly.
Pauline's voice ceased. Someone put a hand over the mouth of the
frightened woman.
"Go on," Saton said.
"The man has the gun in his hand. He goes down on his knees," Pauline
continued. "The gun is pointed towards Mr. Rochester. There is a puff
of smoke, a report, Mr. Rochester has fallen down. He is up again.
Then he falls!--yes, he falls!"
Saton passed his hand across his forehead.
"Go on," he said.
"The man is taking the cartridge from the gun," Pauline said. "He
slips in another from the bag. He has leaned the gun against the gate.
He is stealing away."
Saton leaned towards her till he seemed even about to spring.
"You could not see his face?" he said.
There was no answer. Two of the women behind were sobbing now. A third
was lying back, half unconscious. Rochester had risen to his feet. The
faces of all of them seemed suddenly to reflect a new and nameless
terror.
Saton moved slowly towards Pauline. He moved unsteadily. The
perspiration now was standing in thick beads upon his forehead. He
suddenly realized his risk.
"You could not see his face?" he repeated. "You do not know who it was
that fired that gun?"
"I could not see his face," she repeated. "But I--I can see it now."
"You do not recognise it?" he said, and his voice seemed to come
tearing from his throat, charged with some new and compelling quality.
"You cannot recognise it? You do not know whether you have ever seen
it before?"
Pauline rose suddenly to her feet. Her bosom was heaving, her face was
like a white mask. Her hands were suddenly thrown high above her head.
[Illustration: She swayed for a moment, and fell over on her side.]
"It is horrible!" she shrieked. "It was you who fired the gun!--You!"
She swayed for a moment, and fell over on her side like a dead
woman--her arms thrown out, her limbs inert, as though indeed it
were death which had stricken her.
Rochester, with a shout of anger, sprang towards her, sending Saton
reeling against the table. He fell on his knees by her side.
"Bring water, some of you idiots!" he cried out. "Ring the bell! And
don't let that cursed charlatan escape!"