THE FINAL EXPLANATION
Douglas caught Eleanor as she fell and carried her to the lounge.
"Get some water and wine, Lane," he directed, and the young officer
sped out of the room, to return quickly with Nicodemus bearing the
necessary articles. Douglas forced some of the stimulant between
Eleanor's clenched teeth, and bathed her temples and hands with the
iced water, and, to his infinite relief, he had the satisfaction of
seeing her open her eyes.
"Father," she murmured, "Father!"
"I am here." The tall, sad-faced man stooped over her, and she
placed her trembling hand against his cheek. "Don't look so wild, my
darling,"--as recollection returned fully to her. "Think no more of
it," and he laid his hand softly over her eyes. She smiled like a tired
child, and, reaching over, laid her hand in Douglas', then, reassured,
lay still. Seen together, the likeness between father and daughter
was obvious. Eleanor had inherited his handsome deep blue eyes, long
eyelashes, and brilliant coloring.
Brett rose from beside the still figure. "He's dead--this time," he
said tersely. "Apoplexy. It beats me how he got out of that burning
automobile."
"He wasn't in it," said Barry Thornton calmly.
"He wasn't?" Brett's excitement overcame him. "Why, I saw him with my
own eyes."
"You saw him leave here, yes; but you probably did not notice that
the Japanese chauffeur was crouching at his feet in the car. When the
machine turned into Wisconsin Avenue, out of your sight, my brother
slowed down and sprang out, giving his hat to the Japanese, who took
his place at the wheel and raced the machine up Wisconsin Avenue."
"Well, I'll be damned!" ejaculated Brett. "So it was poor Fugi who was
burned up. But, good Lord! when Colonel Thornton had made so successful
a getaway what induced him to put his head in the lion's mouth by
returning here, and what was he doing in this room?"
"If you search his pockets you may find out," was the cryptic reply as
Barry Thornton drew up a chair by Eleanor's couch and seated himself.
Brett thrust his hand first in one pocket of the dead man's clothing
and then in another. In the last one he jerked it out again as if
his fingers had been bitten. In his hand dangled the priceless ruby
necklace and a wallet filled with bank notes! Brett sat down on the
floor, for once speechless.
"How did you know it?" he asked finally.
Barry Thornton raised his disengaged hand and pointed to the portrait
of his ancestor and namesake. "I was watching this scene through
those peepholes,"--an exclamation escaped Douglas,--"you almost
caught me this morning, Mr. Hunter. This old house is honeycombed
with secret passages. My brother kept a large sum of money in a
secret drawer in that desk. He probably needed funds to assist him in
escaping from this country, so came back here and entered the house
by means of one of the secret passages. He has been concealed behind
that sliding panel,"--pointing to an aperture in the wall near the
chimney,--"waiting to slip into this room. He seized the opportunity
when Nicodemus put out the lights, and left by the billiard room door,
to steal the necklace as well as get his money. Your reëntering the
room flustered him, and he was making in haste for the secret passage
when I stepped out of it and faced him. Thinking me dead years
ago--his escape barred--the shock proved too much...." Thornton did not
complete his sentence. There was a moment's silence.
"I think it would be as well, Mr. Thornton, that we remove your
brother's body to his room," suggested Douglas, recovering somewhat
from his astonishment.
"Well, I don't know about that; the coroner----" objected Brett
dubiously.
"We can all testify to the details of Colonel Thornton's death," put in
Lane. "But we cannot leave him lying here on his own floor. His death
was natural, brought on by shock."
"Very well, sir." Brett rose and walked to the door. He returned in
a moment with a plain-clothes policeman, and, with the assistance of
Douglas and Lane, all that was mortal of Dana Thornton was carried to
his room. Barry Thornton had requested them to return, and Douglas,
Lane, and Brett trooped back to the library.
"Eleanor has told me of her long search," began Thornton. "My
disappearance came from lapse of memory, and the latter was brought on
by a fall on shipboard. That fall,"--deliberately,--"was caused by my
brother, Dana."
"Oh, Father!" Eleanor sat bolt upright.
"Yes, I had found out some of his deviltries and taxed him with them.
I told him I would expose him if he did not mend his ways, and he
promised to do so. He visited me on board ship, and while he was there
I had occasion to mount the rigging. He followed me up, and managed to
push me as I was swinging from one of the ropes. I lost my balance and
fell, with what result you already know."
"The fiend!" cried Eleanor, bitterly. "And I trusted him so."
"His ability to inspire confidence has been his greatest asset," said
her father dryly. "After leaving the gig that day at Old Point Comfort,
everything is a blank to me."
"What brought back your memory?" asked Douglas.
"A chance remark overheard in a drinking hell of Colon, Panama. Two
days before that a man whose face was dimly familiar met me in the
streets of Cristobal and gave me his card, telling me I must ask for
him at the Navy Department at Washington, and that the Secretary was
keeping a place open for me. At the time, while his words impressed me
deeply, they conveyed no very clear idea, nor did Senator Carew's name
enlighten me; but they caused me to renew my efforts to remember the
past, which I felt convinced was very different from my surroundings
then.
"As I have said, two days after I overheard two men plotting against
the United States. Toward the end of their conversation the younger
man, whom I took to be an American, mentioned the name which woke the
sleeping chords of memory--the name of my dearly loved wife, Nora
Fitzgerald,"--his voice broke with a sob. Eleanor raised his hand
to her lips and kissed it tenderly. Her father's grasp tightened
involuntarily and he continued:
"I hastened back to Washington as soon as I could get here, working
my passage, and on my arrival went to see Secretary Wyndham. The news
of Senator Carew's death was a great shock, for I had depended on him
to assist me to find my wife and child. I believe I had some sort of
attack at the Department, but all I recollect is finding myself again
in the street."
"What did you do then?" questioned Douglas, as the older man paused.
"I came on here, thinking I might find Dana. He was out, but old
Nicodemus opened the door for me. He recognized me almost instantly;
hurried me out into the kitchen, and there poured out such an
extraordinary tale of Dana's behavior that I sat dumfounded."
"Do tell us what he said," urged Brett, hitching his chair forward.
"In justice to myself I must," was the grave reply. "Dana was a moral
degenerate; brave to a fault, and very clever, he did not know the
difference between right and wrong. If he had been content to keep
straight he might have risen to high places; instead he practiced
deceit and dishonor." Thornton's sad face hardened. "He was always a
first class actor, and that talent helped him in the double life he
was leading. Nicodemus told me that he was in the habit of disguising
himself whenever he was up to deviltry."
"Ah, that explains why Annette did not know that Dana Thornton was 'the
mutual friend' to whom she delivered and from whom she received secret
despatches," put in Brett, who had followed Captain Thornton's words
with breathless interest.
"After what Nicodemus told me I decided not to let my brother know of
my presence here," continued Captain Thornton, "and so occupied an
unused room in the garret, where Nicodemus took care of me."
"Oh, why didn't you come to me?" asked Eleanor passionately.
"I did, dear; yesterday morning, but you were out." An exclamation
broke from Eleanor. "I did not leave any message or name, so you were
not told of my visit. Nicodemus told me of my wife's death, and of your
presence in Washington, Eleanor.
"How I kept my hands off Dana I don't know!" Thornton's eyes blazed
with righteous indignation. "He was the cause of all my misfortunes.
When possible I spied upon him; not an honorable occupation, but I felt
I must fight the devil with fire. When I entered this room just now I
intended to slay him, but Providence intervened and gave him a more
merciful death than I would have meted out to him."
"I don't know about that," said Brett; "in the hour of his triumph
you snatched his victory from him. God only knows what thoughts were
concentrated in his active brain when physical endurance succumbed to
the shock of seeing you."
"Perhaps you are right," agreed Thornton wearily. "I think that is all
I have to tell you, gentlemen."
"There is one question I feel I must ask," Brett rose to his feet as
he spoke. "Did Annette commit suicide, or was she killed by human or
supernatural agency?"
"I think my brother planned her murder; one crime more or less did not
trouble his elastic conscience."
"By Heaven! she brought it on herself by offering to confess to Colonel
Thornton what she knew of Senator Carew's murder. But how the devil
did he accomplish it?" questioned Brett. "The only door was locked on
the inside, and no one could have entered by the windows. I examined
all the wall space, thinking there might be a concealed entrance, but
couldn't find a sign of one."
"But you did not examine the floor of the closet," replied Thornton.
"It has a trapdoor cleverly concealed. The passage leads to a secret
door which opens on the landing of the circular staircase leading from
this floor to the next. My idea is that Dana stole into the room, found
the maid asleep, and blew out the gas, leaving her to be asphyxiated,
and then returned to his room."
"Did you see him do this?"--sternly.
"Most certainly not. If I had had the faintest idea that he intended to
murder the maid, I would have prevented the crime. I stayed downstairs
last night, going over some papers in Dana's desk until nearly three
this morning. I was stealing up to my room when I saw Miss Carew coming
down the hall, and, when she screamed and roused the household, I
bolted into the secret passage opening from the stair landing."
"I am exceedingly obliged to you, sir, for straightening out these
mysteries," said Brett, stepping to the door. "How much do you wish
made public?"
"Only that which is absolutely necessary to clear the innocent from
suspicion," returned Thornton gravely. "I leave the matter to your
judgment."
"Very good, sir; I'll hush it up as much as possible. Good
evening,"--and Brett departed.
Eleanor slipped from the lounge where she had been lying. "Wait for me
here, Father," she requested, as she left the room.
"Will you excuse me, Mr. Thornton," said Fred Lane, rising. "I would
like to join Mrs. Truxton and Cynthia for half an hour."
"Certainly, Captain, and I will be exceedingly grateful if you will
explain to Mrs. Truxton what has taken place here to-night. Tell her as
much or as little as you think necessary."
"I will indeed, sir; good night," and Lane, his step elastic as he
thought of joining Cynthia, hastened to Mrs. Truxton's room.
Eleanor was not long absent. Walking over to the lounge, she laid a
number of leather-bound journals on her father's knee.
"Mother kept a diary for you, Father; she charged me never to part with
it until we should meet, when I was to give it to you."
Thornton kissed her in silence. As Eleanor stood hesitating, Douglas'
arm stole round her waist. "Come with me, dear heart," he murmured.
The lovelight transfigured his strong face and was reflected in her
beautiful eyes. Together they strolled to the door, but before passing
out of the room Eleanor paused and glanced back at her father.
Thornton's iron composure had given way, and his head was bowed over
the familiar handwriting as he read through tear-dimmed eyes the
messages of love and faith penned by his girl wife in the years that
were no more.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
A change to the List of Illustrations has been made to correct the
typesetters' error for the placement of the illustration facing
page 18.
Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters' errors
and regularize hyphenation. Variant spellings have been retained.
Words and phrases that were typeset in the original book have been
noted by an underscore (_) on each side of the word or phrase.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Inside, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln