THE FLAW IN THE LEFT EYE
Santoine, after Harriet had left the library, stood waiting until he
heard the servant go out and close the door; he had instructed the man
and another with him to remain in the hall. The blind man felt no
physical weakness; he was wholly absorbed in the purpose for which he
had dressed and come downstairs; now, as he heard Avery start forward
to help him, he motioned him back. It was the rule in Santoine's house
that the furniture in the rooms he frequented should be kept always in
the same positions; the blind man could move about freely, therefore,
in these rooms.
He walked slowly now to a large chair beside the table in the center of
the room and sat down, resting his arm on the table; when he felt the
familiar smoothness of the table under his finger-tips he knew he was
facing the part of the room where the sound he had just heard had told
him Avery must be.
"When did you learn that Eaton was Hugh Overton, Avery?" he asked.
"To-day."
"How did you discover it?"
He heard Avery, who had been standing, come forward and seat himself on
the arm of the chair across the table from him; the blind man turned to
face this place directly.
"It was plain from the first there was something wrong with the man,"
Avery replied; "but I had, of course, no way of placing him until he
gave himself away at polo the other day."
"At polo? Then you knew about it the other day?"
"Oh, no," Avery denied. "I saw that he was pretending not to know a
game which he did know; when he put over one particular stroke I was
sure he knew the game very well. The number of men in this country
who've played polo at all isn't very large and those who can play great
polo are very few. So I sent for the polo annuals for a few years
back; the ones I wanted came to the club to-day. His picture is in the
group of the Spring Meadows Club; he played 'back' for them five years
ago. His name was under the picture, of course."
"You didn't tell me, however, that he could play polo when you first
found it out."
"No; I wanted to be sure of him before I spoke; besides, Harriet had
seen it as well as I; I supposed she had told you."
"I understand. I am glad to know how it was. One less certain of your
fidelity than I am might have put another construction on your silence;
one less certain, Avery, might have thought that, already knowing
Eaton's identity, you preferred instead of telling it to me to have me
discover it for myself and so, for that reason, you trapped him into a
polo game in Harriet's presence. I, myself, do not think that. The
other possibility which might occur to one not certain of your fidelity
we will not now discuss."
For a moment Santoine paused; the man across from him did not speak,
but--Santoine's intuition told him--drew himself suddenly together
against some shock; the blind man felt that Avery was watching him now
with tense questioning.
"Of course," said Santoine, "knowing who Eaton is, gives us no aid in
determining who the men were that fought with him in my study last
night?"
"It gives none to me, Mr. Santoine," Avery said steadily.
"It gives none to you," Santoine repeated; "and the very peculiar
behavior of the stock exchange to-day, I suppose that gives you no help
either. All day they have been going down, Avery--the securities, the
stocks and bonds of the properties still known as the Latron
properties; the very securities which five years ago stood staunch
against even the shock of the death of the man whose coarse but
powerful personality had built them up into the great properties they
are to-day--of Matthew Latron's death. To-day, without apparent
reason, they have been going down, and that gives you no help either,
Avery?"
"I'm afraid I don't follow you, sir."
"Yet you are a very clever man, Avery; there is no question about that.
Your friend and my friend who sent you to me five years ago was quite
correct in calling you clever; I have found you so; I have been willing
to pay you a good salary--a very good salary--because you are clever."
"I'm glad if you have found my work satisfactory, Mr. Santoine."
"I have even found it worth while at times to talk over with you
matters--problems--which were troubling me; to consult with you. Have
I not?"
"Yes."
"Very well; I am going to consult with you now. I have an infirmity,
as you know, Avery; I am blind. I have just found out that for several
years--for about five years, to be exact; that is, for about the same
length of time that you have been with me--my blindness has been used
by a certain group of men to make me the agent of a monstrous and
terrible injustice to an innocent man. Except for my blindness--except
for that, Avery, this injustice never could have been carried on. If
you find a certain amount of bitterness in my tone, it is due to that;
a man who has an infirmity, Avery, cannot well help being a little
sensitive in regard to it. You are willing I should consult with you
in regard to this?"
"Of course I am at your service, Mr. Santoine." Avery's voice was
harsh and dry.
The blind man was silent for an instant. He could feel the uneasiness
and anxiety of the man across from him mounting swiftly, and he gave it
every opportunity to increase. He had told Eaton once that he did not
use "cat and mouse" methods; he was using them now because that was the
only way his purpose could be achieved.
"We must go back, then, Avery, to the quite serious emergency to which
I am indebted for your faithful service. It is fairly difficult now
for one contemplating the reverence and regard in which 'big' men are
held by the public in these days of business reconstruction to recall
the attitude of only a few years ago. However, it is certainly true
that five years ago the American people appeared perfectly convinced
that the only way to win true happiness and perpetuate prosperity was
to accuse, condemn and jail for life--if execution were not legal--the
heads of the important groups of industrial properties. Just at that
time, one of these men--one of the most efficient but also, perhaps,
the one personally most obnoxious or unpopular--committed one of his
gravest indiscretions. It concerned the private use of deposits in
national banks; it was a federal offense of the most patent and
provable kind. He was indicted. Considering the temper of any
possible jury at that time, there was absolutely no alternative but to
believe that the man under indictment must spend many succeeding years,
if not the rest of his life, in the Federal penitentiary at Atlanta or
Leavenworth.
"Now, not only the man himself but his closest associates contemplated
this certainty with dismay. The man was in complete control of a group
of the most valuable and prosperous properties in America. Before his
gaining control, the properties had been almost ruined by differences
between the minor men who tried to run them; only the calling of
Matthew Latron into control saved those men from themselves; they
required him to govern them; his taking away would bring chaos and ruin
among them again. They knew that. There were a number of important
people, therefore, who held hope against hope that Latron would not be
confined in a prison cell. Just before he must go to trial, Latron
himself became convinced that he faced confinement for the rest of his
life; then fate effectively intervened to end all his troubles. His
body, charred and almost consumed by flames--but nevertheless the
identified body of Matthew Latron--was found in the smoking ruins of
his shooting lodge which burned to the ground two days before his
trial. I have stated correctly these particulars, have I not, Avery?"
"Yes." Avery was no longer sitting on the arm of the chair; he had
slipped into the seat--he was hunched in the seat watching the blind
man with growing conviction and fear.
"There were, of course," Santoine went on, "many of the violent and
passion-inflamed who carped at this timely intervention of fate and
criticised the accident which delivered Latron at this time. But these
were silenced when Latron's death was shown to have been, not accident,
but murder. A young man was shown to have followed Latron to the
shooting lodge; a witness appeared who had seen this young man shoot
Latron; a second witness had seen him set fire to the lodge. The young
man--Hugh Overton--was put on trial for his life. I, myself, as a
witness at the trial, supplied the motive for the crime; for, though I
had never met Overton, I knew that he had lost the whole of a large
fortune through investments recommended to him by Latron. Overton was
convicted, sentenced to death; he escaped before the sentence was
carried out--became a fugitive without a name, who if he ever
reappeared would be handed over for execution. For the evidence had
been perfect--complete; he had shot Latron purely for revenge, killed
him in the most despicable manner. For there was no doubt Latron was
dead, was there, Avery?"
Santoine waited for reply.
"What?" Avery said huskily.
"I say there was no doubt Latron was dead?"
"None."
"That was the time you came into my employ, Avery, recommended to me by
one of the men who had been closest to Latron. I was not connected
with the Latron properties except as an adviser; but many papers
relating to them must go inevitably through my hands. I was rather on
the inside in all that concerned those properties. But I could not
myself see the papers; I was blind; therefore, I had to have others
serve as eyes for me. And from the first, Avery, you served as my eyes
in connection with all papers relating to the Latron properties. If
anything ever appeared in those papers which might have led me to
suspect that any injustice had been done in the punishment of Latron's
murderer, it could reach me only through you. Nothing of that sort
ever did reach me, Avery. You must have made quite a good thing out of
it."
"What?"
"I say, your position here must have been rather profitable to you,
Avery; I have not treated you badly myself, recognizing that you must
often be tempted by gaining information here from which you might make
money; and your other employers must have overbid me."
"I don't understand; I beg your pardon, Mr. Santoine, but I do not
follow what you are talking about."
"No? Then we must go a little further. This last year a minor
reorganization became necessary in some of the Latron properties. My
friend, Gabriel Warden--who was an honest man, Avery--had recently
greatly increased his interest in those properties; it was inevitable
the reorganization should be largely in his hands. I remember now
there was opposition to his share in it; the fact made no impression on
me at the time; opposition is common in all things. During his work
with the Latron properties, Warden--the honest man, Avery--discovered
the terrible injustice of which I speak.
"I suspect there were discrepancies in the lists of stockholders,
showing a concealed ownership of considerable blocks of stock, which
first excited his suspicions. Whatever it may have been Warden
certainly investigated further; his investigation revealed to him the
full particulars of the injustice done to the nameless fugitive who had
been convicted as the murderer of Matthew Latron. Evidently this
helpless, hopeless man had been thought worth watching by some one, for
Warden's discoveries gave him also Overton's address. Warden risked
and lost his life trying to help Overton.
"I do not need to draw your attention, Avery, to the very peculiar
condition which followed Warden's death. Warden had certainly had
communication with Overton of some sort; Overton's enemies, therefore,
were unable to rid themselves of him by delivering him up to the police
because they did not know how much Overton knew. When I found that
Warden had made me his executor and I went west and took charge of his
affairs, their difficulties were intensified, for they did not dare to
let suspicion of what had been done reach me. There was no course open
to them, therefore, but to remove Overton before my suspicions were
aroused, even if it could be done only at desperate risk to themselves.
"What I am leading up to, Avery, is your own connection with these
events. You looked after your own interests rather carefully, I think,
up to a certain point. When--knowing who Eaton was--you got him into a
polo game, it was so that, if your interests were best served by
exposing him, you could do so without revealing the real source of your
knowledge of him. But an unforeseen event arose. The drafts and lists
relating to the reorganization of the Latron properties--containing the
very facts, no doubt, which first had aroused Warden's suspicions--were
sent me through Warden's office. At first there was nothing
threatening to you in this, because their contents could reach me only
through you. But in the uncertainty I felt, I had my daughter take
these matters out of your hands; you did not dare then even to ask me
to give them back, for fear that would draw my attention to them and to
you.
"That night, Avery, you sent an unsigned telegram from the office in
the village; almost within twenty-four hours my study was entered, the
safe inaccessible to you was broken open, the contents were carried
away. The study window had not been forced; it had been left open from
within. Do you suppose I do not know that one of the two men in the
study last night was the principal whose agents had failed in two
attempts to get rid of Overton for him, whose other agent--yourself,
Avery--had failed to intercept the evidence which would have revealed
the truth to me, so that, no longer trusting to agents, he himself had
come in desperation to prevent my learning the facts? I realize fully,
Avery, that by means of you my blindness and my reputation have been
used for five years to conceal from the public the fact that Matthew
Latron had not been murdered, but was still alive!"
The blind man halted; he had not gone through this long conversation,
with all the strain that it entailed upon himself, without a definite
object; and now, as he listened to Avery's quick breathing and the
nervous tapping of his fingers against the arm of his chair, he
realized that this object was accomplished. Avery not only realized
that the end of deception and concealment had come; he recognized
thoroughly that Santoine would not have spoken until he had certain
proof to back his words. Avery might believe that, as yet, the blind
man had not all the proof in his possession; but Avery knew--as he was
aware that Santoine also knew--that exposure threatened so many men
that some one of them now was certain to come forward to save himself
at the expense of the others. And Avery knew that only one--and the
first one so to come forward--could be saved.
So Santoine heard Avery now get up; he stood an instant and tried to
speak, but his breath caught nervously; he made another effort.
"I don't think you have much against me, Mr. Santoine," he managed; it
was--as the blind man had expected--only of himself that Avery was
thinking.
"No?" Santoine asked quietly.
"I didn't have anything to do with convicting Overton, or know anything
about it until that part was all over; I never saw him till I saw him
on the train. I didn't know Warden was going to be killed."
"But you were accessory to the robbery of my house last night and,
therefore, accessory to the murder of Wallace Blatchford. Last night,
too, knowing Overton was innocent of everything charged against him,
you gave orders to fire upon him at sight and he was fired upon. And
what were you telling Harriet when I came in? You have told the police
that Overton is the murderer of Latron. Isn't that so the police will
refuse to believe anything he may say and return him to the death cell
for the sentence to be executed upon him? The law will call these
things attempted murder, Avery."
The blind man heard Avery pacing the floor, and then heard him stop in
front of him.
"What is it you want of me, Mr. Santoine?"
"The little information I still require."
"You mean you want me to sell the crowd out?"
"Not that; because I offer you nothing. A number of men are going to
the gallows or the penitentiary for this, Avery, and you--I
suspect--among them; though I also suspect--from what I have learned
about your character in the last few days--that you'll take any means
open to you to avoid sharing their fate."
"I suppose you mean by that that I'll turn State's evidence if I get a
chance, and that I might as well begin now."
"That, I should say, is entirely up to you. The charge of what I
know--with the simultaneous arrest of a certain number of men in
different places whom I know must be implicated--will be made
to-morrow. You, perhaps, are a better judge than I of the cohesion of
your group in the contingencies which it will face to-morrow morning.
I offer you nothing now, Avery--no recommendation of clemency--nothing.
If you prefer to have me learn the full facts from the first of another
who breaks, very well."
Santoine waited. He heard Avery take a few more steps up and down;
then he halted; now he walked again; they were uneven steps as Santoine
heard them; then Avery stopped once more.
"What is it you want to know, sir?"
"Who killed Warden?"
"John Yarrow is his name; he was a sort of hanger-on of Latron's. I
don't know where Latron picked him up."
"Was it he who also made the attack on the train?"
"Yes."
"Who was the other man on the train--the one that claimed the telegram
addressed to Lawrence Hillward?"
"His name's Hollock. He's the titular owner of the place on the
Michigan shore where Latron has been living. The telegram I sent night
before last was addressed to his place, you know. He's been a sort of
go-between for Latron and the men--those who knew--who were managing
the properties. I'd never met him, though, Mr. Santoine, and I didn't
know either him or Hollock on the train. As I said, I wasn't in the
know about killing Warden."
"When did you learn who Eaton was, Avery?"
"The day after we got back here from the West I got word from Latron;
they didn't tell me till they needed to use me." Avery hesitated; then
he went on--he was eager now to tell all he knew in his belief that by
doing so he was helping his own case. "You understand, sir, about
Latron's pretended death--a guide at the shooting lodge had been killed
by a chance shot in the woods; purely accidental; some one of the party
had fired at a deer, missed, and never knew he'd killed a man with the
waste shot. When the guide didn't come back to camp, they looked for
him and found his body. He was a man who never would be missed or
inquired for and was very nearly Latron's size; and that gave Latron
the idea.
"At first there was no idea of pretending he had been murdered; it was
the coroner who first suggested that. Things looked ugly for a while,
under the circumstances, as they were made public. Either the scheme
might come out or some one else be charged as the murderer. That put
it up to Overton. He'd actually been up there to see Latron and had
had a scene with him which had been witnessed. That part--all but the
evidence which showed that he shot Latron afterwards--was perfectly
true. He thought that Latron, as he was about to go to trial, might be
willing to give him information which would let him save something from
the fortune he'd lost through Latron's manipulations. The
circumstances, motive, everything was ready to convict Overton; it
needed very little more to complete the case against him."
"So it was completed."
"But after Overton was convicted, he was not allowed to be punished,
sir."
Santoine's lips straightened in contempt. "He was not allowed to be
punished?"
"Overton didn't actually escape, you know, Mr. Santoine--that is, he
couldn't have escaped without help; Latron was thoroughly frightened
and he wanted it carried through and Overton executed; but some of the
others rebelled against this and saw that Overton got away; but he
never knew he'd been helped. I understand it was evidence of Latron's
insistence on the sentence being carried out that Warden found, after
his first suspicions had been aroused, and that put Warden in a
position to have Latron tried for his life, and made it necessary to
kill Warden."
"Latron is dead, of course, Avery, or fatally wounded?"
"He's dead. Over--Eaton, that is, sir--hit him last night with three
shots."
"As a housebreaker engaged in rifling my safe, Avery."
"Yes, sir. Latron was dying when they took him out of the car last
night. They got him away, though; put him on the boat he'd come on. I
saw them in the woods last night. They'll not destroy the body or make
away with it, sir, at present."
"In other words, you instructed them not to do so until you had found
out whether Overton could be handed over for execution and the facts
regarding Latron kept secret, or whether some other course was
necessary."
The blind man did not wait for any answer to this; he straightened
suddenly, gripping the arms of his chair, and got up. There was more
he wished to ask; in the bitterness he felt at his blindness having
been used to make him an unconscious agent in these things of which
Avery spoke so calmly, he was resolved that no one who had shared
knowingly in them should go unpunished. But now he heard the noise
made by approach of Eaton's captors. He had noted it a minute or more
earlier; he was sure now that it was definitely nearing the house. He
crossed to the window, opened it and stood there listening; the people
outside were coming up the driveway. Santoine went into the hall.
"Where is Miss Santoine?" he inquired.
The servant who waited in the hall told him she had gone out. As
Santoine stood listening, the sounds without became coherent to him.
"They have taken Overton, Avery," he commented. "Of course they have
taken no one else. I shall tell those in charge of him that he is not
the one they are to hold prisoner but that I have another for them
here."
The blind man heard no answer from Avery. Those having Overton in
charge seemed to be coming into the house; the door opened and there
were confused sounds. Santoine stood separating the voices.
"What is it?" he asked the servant.
"Mr. Eaton--Mr. Overton, sir--fainted as they were taking him out of
the motor-car, sir. He seems much done up, sir."
Santoine recognized that four or five men, holding or carrying their
prisoner between them, had come in and halted in surprise at sight of
him.
"We have him!" he heard one of them cry importantly to him. "We have
him, sir! and he's Hugh Overton, who killed Latron!"
Then Santoine heard his daughter's voice in a half cry, half sob of
hopeless appeal to him; Harriet ran to him; he felt her cold, trembling
fingers clasping him and beseeching him. "Father! Father! They
say--they say--they will--"
He put his hands over hers, clasping hers and patting it, "My dear," he
said, "I thought you would wait for me; I told you to wait."
He heard others coming into the house now; and he held his daughter
beside him as he faced them.
"Who is in charge here?" he demanded.
The voice of one of those who had just come in answered him. "I,
sir--I am the chief of police."
"I wish to speak to you; I will not keep you long. May I ask you to
have your prisoner taken to the room he occupied here in my house and
given attention by a doctor? You can have my word that it is not
necessary to guard him. Wait! Wait!" he directed, as he heard
exclamations and ejaculations to correct him. "I do not mean that you
have mistaken who he is. He is Hugh Overton, I know; it is because he
is Hugh Overton that I say what I do."
Santoine abandoned effort to separate and comprehend or to try to
answer the confusion of charge and questioning around him. He
concerned himself, at the moment, only with his daughter; he drew her
to him, held her and said gently, "There, dear; there! Everything is
right. I have not been able to explain to you, and I cannot take time
now; but you, at least, will take my word that you have nothing to fear
for him--nothing!"
He heard her gasp with incredulity and surprise; then, as she drew back
from him, staring at him, she breathed deep with relief and clasped
him, sobbing. He still held her, as the hall was cleared and the
footsteps of those carrying Overton went up the stairs; then, knowing
that she wished to follow them, he released her. She drew away, then
clasped his hand and kissed it; as she did so, she suddenly stiffened
and her hand tightened on his spasmodically.
Some one else had come into the hall and he heard another voice--a
woman's, which he recognized as that of the stenographer, Miss Davis.
"Where is he? Hugh! Hugh! What have you done to him? Mr. Santoine!
Mr. Santoine! where is he?"
The blind man straightened, holding his daughter to him; there was
anxiety, horror, love in the voice he heard; Harriet's perplexity was
great as his own. "Is that you, Miss Davis?" he inquired.
"Yes; yes," the girl repeated. "Where is--Hugh, Mr. Santoine?"
"You do not understand," the voice of a young man--anxious and strained
now, but of pleasing timbre--broke in on them.
"I'm afraid I don't," Santoine said quietly.
"She is Hugh's sister, Mr. Santoine--she is Edith Overton."
"Edith Overton? And who are you?"
"You do not know me. My name is Lawrence Hillward."
Santoine asked nothing more for the moment. His daughter had left his
side. He stood an instant listening to the confusion of question and
answer in the hall; then he opened the door into the library and held
it for the police chief to enter.