ONE STEP NEARER.
It was the early afternoon of the sixth day after Gumley's trial and
conviction. In the library at Fairlawn, which just then he had all to
himself, Mr. Wicks was planted with his back to the empty fireplace, a
newspaper which had just arrived in one hand, and a paper knife in the
other. As he stood thus he soliloquized aloud:
"Well, of all the rummy goes I ever heard tell of, this licks the lot!
To think of Mr. Roden Marsh going and giving himself up as being the
murderer of the first Mrs. Drelincourt! But I must say that I never
did altogether approve of Mr. Marsh and his goings on. Not that he was
what one might call stuck up, because he wasn't. But, for all that, he
had ways about him which I couldn't stummick."
The turning of the door handle transformed him on the instant into a
different being.
It was Mrs. Drelincourt who now entered the room.
"Has your master returned yet, Wicks?"
"I have seen nothing of him, ma'am." He was standing at the center
table, cutting the newspaper in readiness for Mr. Drelincourt.
"Have _you_ heard anything of this dreadful rumor?"
"Meaning about Mr. Marsh, ma'am? I can't deny, ma'am, but what I 'ave
heard about it: It's in everybody's mouth, if I may make so bold as to
say so."
"When and by whom was the rumor brought?"
"By a messenger from Sunbridge about a couple of hours ago. He brought
a letter for master from Mr. Marsh, who, so the man said, is now in
Sunbridge jail, having given hisself up to the police late yesterday
evening."
"Great Heaven! Can this be true? Where is the letter?"
Wicks took it off the writing desk where he had laid it, and handed it
to his mistress. "The messenger brought it, ma'am, when you were out
in the pony carriage."
"Yes, it is Roden's writing," said Mrs. Drelincourt to herself, as she
glanced at the superscription. For a moment or two she pressed her
hand to her heart; then, as she gave back the letter, she said: "But
do you mean to imply that Mr. Marsh was away from home all last
night?"
"According to the chambermaid, ma'am, his bed had not been slep' in."
The door was opened quickly, and Marian, followed by Walter, entered
the room.
"Mamma----" began the former, and then stopped at sight of Wicks.
"That will do, Wicks," said Mrs. Drelincourt.
The man bowed and left the room.
Then Marian began afresh. "I can see by your face, mamma, that you
have heard this terrible rumor; but surely, surely it cannot be true!"
"As you say, dear, it surely cannot be true. And yet I know not what
to think. That Roden is in prison seems an undoubted fact."
"The report goes that he went into Sunbridge last evening, and gave
himself up to the police." This from Walter.
"As a murderer," said Marian with a shudder. "Oh, it seems
incredible!"
"Incredible, indeed," replied her mother. "If it be really true that
he is guilty, the act must have been committed during a fit of mental
aberration when he was not responsible for his actions. But we shall
learn the truth when your papa returns."
"Is not papa back?"
"Not yet. It is quite fifteen miles to Dunford, where Colonel Winslow
was to catch the Scotch express. But he cannot be long now."
"How would it be," said Walter, "if I were to have the bay mare
saddled and ride down the Dunford road and meet Mr. Drelincourt on his
way back? I could then tell him all about the rumor, after which he
might perhaps prefer to drive direct into Sunbridge and find out the
particulars for himself before coming home."
"An excellent idea, Walter," said Mrs. Drelincourt. "Go at once, and
come to me the moment you return."
As soon as he was gone she said to Marian: "Open one of the windows a
little way, dear; I feel slightly faint." Then to herself she added:
"My heart feels as if it were constricted by a band of steel."
She was lying back in a capacious leathern easy chair. Marian having
opened one of the windows, unceremoniously twisted up the outside
sheet of the _Times_ and proceeded gently to fan her mother with it.
Presently the latter looked up at her with a smile. "I am better now,
darling," she said. "This sultry weather always tries me."
Marian stooped and kissed her. Then she said: "Oh, mamma, what if it
should prove that poor Roden is really out of his mind!"
Mrs. Drelincourt sat up quickly in her chair. "How careless of me to
forget!" she exclaimed. "There is a letter on the table from him
addressed to your papa, which may possibly explain everything. Run and
give it to Walter, and tell him----"
"Here's papa, himself," broke in Marian, as the door opened to admit
Drelincourt.
"I am so glad you are come!" sighed his wife, as she turned to him
with a quick lighting up of her spiritualized face. Then to her
daughter: "Hurry after Walter. You will perhaps be in time to stop
him."
"And I am glad that you are glad," replied Drelincourt, regarding her
from a little distance with a smile, as he proceeded in leisurely
fashion to draw off his-driving gloves. "And yet, all things
considered, I have not been long gone. We had quite a race, I must
tell you, to catch the express."
"Then you have heard nothing of this dreadful rumor which has put us
all so much about?"
"You mean some rumor in connection with Roden Marsh?"
"Yes."
"Old Tyson, the turnpike keeper, did mumble something to me while he
was counting out my change."
"Did he tell you that Roden gave himself up last night as being the
murderer of--of you know whom?"
"It was something to that effect I gathered from Tyson."
"Oh, Felix, how coolly you take it! How can you--how can you?"
"Because, my dearest and best, I am absolutely sure that in Rodd's
self accusation there is not the slightest grain of truth."
"Then you think that it is all a hallucination on his part? That he
has brooded over the affair till at length he has come to believe that
he himself is the criminal?"
"There can be no doubt that such is the case."
"What a weight you have lifted off my heart!"
"I have noticed that he has been somewhat strange in his manner of
late. More than once he has said things to me which I utterly failed
to comprehend. Now, however, everything is explained."
"Poor Rodd! Poor fellow! But I am forgetting. There is a letter from
him for you which was brought here by a special messenger two or three
hours ago."
"So!"
Mrs. Drelincourt rose from her chair, and crossing to the table, found
the letter and handed it to her husband.
"Most likely this will throw some further light on Roden's
incomprehensible proceeding," she said. "I presume you will at once
drive into Sunbridge and take whatever steps may be necessary in order
to effect his release."
"That is what I purpose doing--almost immediately. I shall lose no
time in carrying out my intention in that regard. It must be done! In
my hands rests the question of his freedom or execution, and there is
but one course for me to pursue, that the gates of his prison may be
opened, and Rodd again enjoy the liberty which is his by right--human
and divine."
"Then, for the present, I will leave you. But I shall see you again
before you go?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Poor Roden! Most sincerely do I hope that you will be able to bring
him back with you."
"I hope so too. In any case, you need not fear but we shall soon have
him released from durance vile."
He opened the door for her, and as she was passing out, he stooped and
touched her hair with his lips. She smiled up at him, and her lips
softly breathed the word "Dearest!"
Could she have seen the change which came over his face the moment the
door was shut behind her, she would have been startled, indeed. The
transformation was marvelous. The real man was alone with himself.
"Poor Roden, indeed!" he murmured. "But what about poor Felix? And
alas!--and alas! What about poor Madeline?"
He was standing in the middle of the floor, turning over the letter
absently between his fingers.
"How little she dreams of the awful knowledge which a few short hours
must inevitably bring her? For there must be no more delay. This mad
act of Rodd's has served to bring matters to a climax a little sooner
than I intended. Today is Thursday, and Saturday was the day I had
fixed on in my mind as the one on which my long hidden secret should
be laid bare to the world. But now that the end is so near, it matters
not whether the revelation be made today or a few hours hence. Yes,
after twenty years--the end!--just as the past with its dread secret
was beginning to assume the vagueness of a half forgotten dream, and
life was becoming sweeter to me than ever it had been before. If,
perchance, I see tomorrow's sunrise, it will scarcely be from the
windows of Fairlawn!"
He crossed to the chair vacated by his wife, and sat down in it.
"I may as well read what that foolish Rodd has to urge in defense of
his insane action, although I know quite well beforehand the line of
argument he will take."
With that he opened the letter and began to read:
Sunbridge Jail, Thursday, 6 A.M.
My Dear Foster Brother:
When we were lads together you saved my life at the imminent risk of
your own. The time has now come when I can cancel the debt by saving
yours.
To me life is a concern of little moment. So far as I know, I have not
a single relative living, and were I to die tomorrow, there is not a
being in the world, with the exception, maybe, of yourself, to whom
that event would cause one pang of regret.
You, my dear Felix, are possessed of nearly everything which tends to
make existence sweet to most persons. In your wife and daughter alone
you have a double tie sufficient to cause a man to cling to this world
with all his might.
Let me, then, for their dear sakes, if not for your own, most
earnestly beg and entreat of you to accept the payment hereby offered
of that just debt which has been so long owing, and which, I swear as
Heaven is above me, will be joyfully discharged by
Your devoted and affectionate
Roden Marsh.
"Just as I thought," said Drelincourt, as he refolded the letter.
"Dear, true hearted, simple minded old Rodd! And does he really dream
for one moment that I either shall, can, or will accept the sacrifice
he is so eager to consummate? Even after all these years, how little
he knows me! No, my dear Rodd, neither you, nor Gumley, nor any one
shall discharge that debt which is due from Felix Drelincourt alone.
So, now to consider--to consider."
He lay back in his chair and closed his eyes, still holding Rodd's
letter in his hand. He had sat thus for a matter of five or six
minutes when the door was opened by Wicks.
"Sir John Musgrave and Mr. Ormsby to see you, sir."
"So! Where are they?"
"I have shown them into the morning room, sir."
Mr. Drelincourt's eyebrows came together for a moment. "Better show
them in here," he said. "Their coming is most opportune for my
purpose," he continued aloud, as soon as he was alone. "It will spare
me the necessity of a journey to Sunbridge." With that he put away the
letter in the breast pocket of his coat, and stood up to receive his
visitors. "Now to screw my courage to the sticking place! I could
laugh, were this a time for laughter, at the thought of Ormsby
aghast--dumfounded--his fat cheeks quivering like a jelly--when the
truth is told him. And he was so sure Gumley was the man. Poor Ormsby!
At last your thirst for vengeance shall be appeased."