"Hush!" I exclaimed. "You surely don't----?"
He laughed aloud in his agitation.
"I surely do," he began. "There, Halifax, we won't give the thing a
name to-night. Of course, there must be a coroner's inquest."
"Yes," I replied.
"It is a terrible thing altogether," continued Brabazon; "and to think
of its happening here. And to Randall, of all people--a man with his
expectations. Well, it is a lesson which Miss Farnham may well lay to
heart."
We were standing together in the library--the hour was now nearly
midnight. The body of the dead man lay on the centre table covered with
a white sheet. There came a knock at the door, and to my dismay and
astonishment I saw Carleton enter the room.
"I heard voices, and guessed you would be here," he exclaimed. "I have
recovered my nerves to a certain extent, and wish to tell you, sir,"
looking at his host, "and you also, Dr. Halifax, exactly what has
occurred."
"Come into the smoking-room," said Brabazon, not unkindly.
"No," answered the poor lad. "If you will allow me, I will tell my
story here. There is not much to tell, but what there is had best be
told in the presence of----" his lip trembled--he could not get further
words out. He sank suddenly into a chair, and covered his white face
with his shaking hands. "We must humour him," I said, turning and
speaking in a whisper to Brabazon--"and before God," I continued,
impulsively, "I believe he is as innocent as I am."
[Illustration: "HE COVERED HIS WHITE FACE WITH HIS SHAKING HANDS."]
I drew forward a chair for myself as I spoke, but Brabazon stood by the
hearth.
Carleton began to speak almost directly--his emotion was quickly
mastered.
"I have loved Barbara Farnham for two years. At intervals she has given
me great encouragement, and I had fair hopes of winning her until
she met Randall in this house a fortnight ago. This morning I felt
desperate, and resolved to put my fortunes to the test. I asked her to
give me an interview after breakfast, as you doubtless noticed." He
paused and looked at me--I nodded my head, and he continued: "We went
into the conservatory, and I--I spoke to her. I told her the naked
truth, perhaps a little too bluntly. I asked her if she really meant
to--no, I must not say what I did ask her. It is unfair--unfair to her.
From her manner and her words I plainly gathered that she preferred
Randall to me, and that I had no chance whatever of winning her.
Perhaps I lost my temper--anyhow, it was unmanly of me to say what I
did. I accused her of valuing Randall's position. I told her plainly
that if Randall and I could change places, I should be the favoured
one. We had a disagreement; our interview was full of pain, at least
to me. When I left Miss Farnham the Evil One seemed to enter into me,
and I hated Randall as I never knew before that I could hate anyone. I
would not ride with the others, but went away by myself, and the whole
day has been a long agony to me.
"My hatred to Randall grew worse and worse, until its vehemence
half frightened me. We used to be good friends, too. After dinner
I felt that I could not bear a couple of conventional hours in the
drawing-room, and went out to nurse my misery in the open air. I had no
idea that Randall was also out. I went along by the shore, but mounted
to the higher cliffs on my way back. I intended to leave Penporran
early to-morrow, and felt impatient for the hour when I could get away
from the loathsome sight of my successful rival.
"As I was walking along by the edge of the cliffs, and had just entered
Porran's field, I felt my heart jump into my mouth, for Randall was
coming to meet me. He was about a hundred yards away when I first saw
him. He is a taller man than I, and he seemed to stand out sharply
between me and the sky. I knew by his attitude that he was smoking a
cigar. I stood still for a moment. I did not want to pass him. My heart
was full of torment, and I hated to meet him out there, with not a soul
to stand between us. You know that part of the cliff, Mr. Brabazon?
Randall had just come to that portion of it which is railed in to keep
the cattle from tumbling over. I don't know what possessed him to
take the outside path, which is very narrow and slippery. He did so,
however; and now, for the first time, he must have noticed me. I was
within fifty yards of him, coming also along the edge of the cliff. He
stood stock still, as if something or somebody had shot him. I thought
he was about to shout to me, but instead of doing so, he threw up one
hand and clutched his brow. The next instant he began to sway from side
to side, and before I could approach him, he had fallen over the cliff,
down that awful height!
"My absolute surprise stunned me for a moment--then I ran up to the
spot where he had fallen, and throwing myself on my face and hands,
looked over the cliff, in the hopes that he might have clung on to
something. The moon was bright, but I could not see him. Looking down
from that height made me dizzy, and I saw there was nothing for it but
to retrace my steps as fast as possible to the shore. I ran quickly,
and was breathless when I got up to him. He was lying on his back,
with his arms stretched out--some blood was oozing from his mouth. I
wiped it away and called to him, and putting my arms under his head,
tried to lift him. He moaned and moved faintly. I felt his limbs--they
seemed all right. I had a wild hope that he was only stunned, and tried
to drag him along the shore. He was too heavy for me, however, and I
feared that I was only injuring him in my attempt to get him back to
the house. I laid him as easily as I could on a piece of sand above
high-water mark, and then ran back to Penporran. It was on my way back
that the awful idea first occurred to me that Barbara would think I
had killed him. I seemed to see all the circumstances of his terrible
death with preternatural clearness, and I felt sure that the gravest
suspicion would attach to me. I have come to this room now to tell you
both, before Heaven, and in the presence of the dead man, the solemn
truth. Of course, I cannot compel you to believe me."
Carleton stood up as he uttered these last words. His attitude was very
manly, and the look on his face was at once straightforward and quiet.
I liked him better than I thought I ever could have liked him. I felt
deep sympathy for him, and looked at Brabazon, expecting him to share
my sentiments. To my surprise, however, I saw by the expression round
his lips that he was not favourably impressed by Carleton, and that his
feelings towards him were the reverse of sympathetic.
Carleton looked full at him, expecting him to speak. When he did not,
the poor fellow repeated his last remark, a faint quaver perceptible in
his voice:
"Of course, I cannot compel you to believe me."
"Thank you for coming to see us," said Brabazon then; "you have been
the first to give name to a suspicion which will, doubtless, be
harboured by more than one person who has known all the circumstances
of this unhappy case. I sincerely pity you, Carleton, but I prefer to
keep my judgment in abeyance for the time being. Halifax will tell
you that a coroner's inquest will be necessary. At the inquest the
whole matter will be gone carefully into. You may be certain that all
possible justice will be done you."
"Justice!" exclaimed Carleton, a faint smile playing for an instant
round his lips. "Justice, when there were no witnesses! Oh, that the
dead could speak!" He turned abruptly and prepared to leave the room.
Brabazon called after him.
"You must give me your word of honour that you will not attempt to
leave Penporran before the inquest."
"You may rest assured on that point." said Carleton.
He left the room. The restraint he was putting upon himself gave a
dignity to his whole bearing which impressed me much.
"I fully believe in that poor fellow's innocence," I said, as soon as
the door had closed behind him. Brabazon gave me a keen glance.
"You are a good judge of character," he said, after a pause; "still, I
prefer to keep my judgment in abeyance."
Shortly afterwards he bade me good-night, and I retired to my own room.
I closed the door and stood by the hearth, where the ashes of the fire,
which had been lit some hours previous and had long ago burnt itself
out, were to be seen.
I felt too restless to go to bed, and wished the morning would come. I
was standing so, thinking over all the circumstances which had turned
our gay party into one of mourning, when I heard a footfall outside
my door. I thought it might possibly be Carleton, and going across
the room, I opened the door and went out into the corridor. To my
astonishment, Miss Farnham, still wearing her gay evening dress, stood
before me.
"I was thinking of knocking at your door," she said, "but had scarcely
courage to do so. I want to speak to you."
"I will see you in the morning," I said.
"It is morning already," she replied. "This is no time for
conventionality, Dr. Halifax; I wish to speak to you now. You cannot
sleep, and no more can I. Please follow me to Mrs. Brabazon's
sitting-room, where a fire and a lamp are still burning."
She led the way, and I obeyed her without a word.
"Now tell me the truth." she said, the moment we found ourselves in
the room. "Will Mr. Carleton be accused of having murdered poor Arthur
Randall?"
[Illustration: "PLEASE FOLLOW ME."]
"There is no doubt that grave suspicion will attach to him," I
answered, without hesitation.
"But you think him innocent?" she queried.
"I think him innocent. As innocent as you or I."
"Oh, don't speak of me," she said, sinking suddenly on the sofa. "Pray
don't mention my innocence. But for me this tragedy would never have
happened."