"WITH HIS WIFE, OF COURSE."
I leave the reader to imagine my feelings, [it is Camran writing now] as
I read these lines, if he can. To describe them is more than I am able
to do. Suffice it to say that I read on and on, like one fascinated, and
there was no sign of the collapse I might have expected from the
dreadful revelations. The catastrophe was too immense to be met in any
ordinary way.
* * * * *
You will now need no confession of mine [continued this strange MS.] to
inform you who purloined Miss Howes' bracelet and your shirtstud. Who
stole my own jewelry might be a harder riddle, so I will make haste to
say that I did that also. It was the easiest way to prevent suspicion
falling on my head, though it can hardly be said to have been entirely
successful, as Mr. Howes never had the least doubt of my guilt. I knew
that from the first, by the freezing manner he immediately adopted
toward me and the chilling way in which his "niece," or friend, as she
afterwards proved, used me until I left the boat. I ought to say here
that common thefts are not in my line, and that I regret having been
drawn into the commission of these acts. My husband urged the deed upon
me, and rather than let him run the risk of doing it himself--which he
threatened--I yielded to his importunities. He had embarked with very
little ready money, on account of recent ill luck at the faro table, and
dreaded being stranded in some foreign port without enough to complete
his voyage. I was, as you know, powerless to aid him much in any other
way.
You will naturally inquire why, if this is true, my husband returned to
you the money he won at cards, taking your check instead. He did so
because I insisted upon it. I told him, at the rate he was going, we
should be high and dry on the reefs before we got back to America. There
was little sense in killing a goose (I meant you, my dear Donald) that
was likely to lay golden eggs for a long time if properly tended.
Wesson worried you at Eggert's, didn't he? Well, he worried me a great
deal more. I had an instinctive fear of him and was at my wits' end to
give a reason. I knew also that my husband was waiting for me at St.
Croix and wished to consult him in regard to several matters. I wished
to get away from Eggert, the two or three fainting fits I had there were
simulated for the purpose of inducing you to cut your stay as short as
possible.
I wanted you to make the proposal to leave and at last succeeded. I let
you kiss the ends of my fingers; and sometimes I pretended to
reciprocate your affection, though I could hardly keep from laughing in
my sleeve. Do you remember the time you bathed my forehead with cologne?
I could hardly control my risibles at the pathetic figure you made. Oh!
It was really too amusing. I took the sea bath every morning, not
because I cared for it, but in order to awake your fancies and bind you
tighter to my triumphal car. The lovely, silly things you said to me!
Now, about that book: I saw it long before you did and tried to think of
some plan to keep it out of your way. You might notice the similarity in
features Between Miss ---- and myself, if you were allowed to pore over
its pages. I had another fear, too, even stronger, for I believe I could
have convinced you that the resemblance was merely accidental: I dreaded
Wesson's sharp eyes if once they got hold of that volume. So it was
I--not he, of course--that put the book out of the way, and it was only
by my carelessness that he afterwards got his hands on it.
I had ceased to have the slightest fear of you; of course, I never had
any for myself--I mean, there was nothing about you to endanger the
wifely duty I owed to my dear, unhappy husband. You could be handled as
easily as a kitten, by touching your sentimental side. Do you recall
looking in at my screen door and seeing me in the attitude of prayer?
Why, I had posed in that position, night after night, waiting for you to
come! When I asked you to enter, a little later, I knew as well as that
I breathed what your answer would be. There never was another man so
easy to control.
Then there was the letter I received from my dear friend Helen. All
arranged for, copied from one I had left with her--before I sailed--just
on purpose for you. I forced that card on you as nicely as any conjurer
could have done it, didn't I? And my answer--which you entered my room
and read--(excuse me while I go behind the door and smile) that was
cooked up for your eyes in the same way. I didn't know that you would go
into the room, although I hoped so, but if you hadn't you would have
been given the letter to mail, with the unsealed envelope turned so as
to attract your attention, and you never would have been able to resist
a peep, never. How did you like my description of your beauty? The
blonde mustache, the "hazel eyes," the "engaging countenance?" If I had
been as silly as that letter indicated, it would not have taken a very
gay Lothario to accomplish his designs on me.
Your reiterated offers of marriage convinced me that I could pull that
string whenever I was ready. That I have not pulled it is due to the
"weak yielding" of which I spoke at the beginning of this letter.
Professionally, I repeat, it was an error. I could have got a nice
little pot out of you if I had kept along that line.
But I am not the only member of my "firm" who has weak moments. My
husband could not keep himself quiet in that hotel at St. Croix, when
everything depended on his remaining out of sight. He had to stand in
the sitting room and listen to your protestations of affection, until I
was frightened out of my wits, for I know what an excitable fellow he
is.
It is one thing to have your wife let another man make love to her--for
a legitimate purpose--and quite another to overhear the burning
declarations. I had to play the fainting gag again, in order to send you
after water, and--do the best I could--my husband would not run when he
heard your returning step. I was in mortal fear that he would kill you
and only by the best diplomacy of which I was mistress did I send him
away.
Even then he had not finished. I went into your room at midnight, do you
recollect? to keep him from entering there. Not altogether to save you
from injury--though I would have done that, too--but for fear of the
legal entanglements into which his rashness might bring him.
And in the morning you sent me that sweet letter of apology! Whenever I
get the blues I shall only have to take that out and read it. It was so
funny!
I am afraid you are getting tired of this story, but you might as well
have it all. It will cure your complaint called "love," that you have
had so severely, if anything will, and that ought to be one comfort.
My husband was on the steamer with us when we left St. Croix,
and--where, do you suppose? In the stateroom with his wife, where a true
man should be, of course. I smuggled him in there and kept him hid till
we reached Barbados, if you please. But the night you and I stayed at
Martinique, I had a terrible fear that he would come ashore and do
something silly. He kept insisting that he had an account which he must
settle, sooner or later, with you. So, if you remember, I went into your
bedroom and stayed all night, for I knew he would trust me, and that he
would not try to touch you in my presence. In the morning you took me
back to the steamer, as I had intended you should; and that night and
the next I slept again in the arms I love. It was he who was prowling
around the Hotel des Bains, who played the part of mice and ghosts.
Disguised so that no one on the Pretoria recognized him he made his way
to land and back again. It wasn't a bad trick, considering.
At Barbados I made him go to the Sea View Hotel instead of the Marine,
though with the greatest difficulty. He is so hard to manage when he
sets his mind on anything. It was distinctly foolish for him to be seen
walking the street with Wesson, for you need never have known he had
gone further down the islands than St. Croix. Then why should he come to
the Marine in broad daylight, and get into that row, that nearly spilled
all the milk? I love the man, I tell you, but I must criticise such
conduct.
Where did Wesson get the jewelry? will be the next question in your
mind. All I know is that our mutual friend "Edgerly" pawned the lot at
Martinique for four hundred francs and afterwards sold the ticket for
125 more, like a dunce! to the proprietor of the Hotel des Bains. That
is an indication of where Wesson got hold of the swag. But why did he
let you take it from him without making the least resistance? This is
another riddle which you must discover for yourself. I can't fathom it.
If you are trying to find anything in my favor because I forgave your
insulting language at the time you bade me give up the clothing you had
bought, strike it out of your mind. I was merely doing the prudent thing
in keeping you quiet until you paid my expenses back to the United
States. As to the clothing I knew very well you would never ask for it,
in your senses, nor get it, if you did. I finished the work you asked
me to do, with the typewriter, to understand exactly how each item in
this account seemed to you at the time.
Now, once more, my dear Donald, where does this leave you and me? I
might remain in New York without the slightest fear you would molest me,
either in person or through the law. No man would like to have this
story printed, with his real name, in the daily newspapers; now, would
he? Neither is it likely that your fondness for your Marjorie (ha, ha!)
will long outlive the confessions she has so freely made. But I am not
going to remain in this city. The haunts that have known me will know me
no more. I am going far away, with my husband--my darling husband--and I
can promise that your eyes have gazed upon both of us for the very last
time.
Why, now, did I give up attacking your bank account when such a good
opportunity still remained? I will tell you, candidly. There are
sportsmen, many of them, I trust, who would not shoot a fawn that stood
still at their approach. I never supposed there was a man with whom a
woman could travel as I travelled with you, who would not give cause to
bleed him with a good conscience by the outrageousness of his conduct. I
thought, of course, you would be like the rest. In that case the
fountains of mercy would have dried up in my bosom and I would have
taken the last dollar I could wrench from you without the slightest
compunction. It was a game I believed infallible. I had found it, more
than once, to work like a charm.
There are usually only three moves: 1st, to convince the male animal
that I am pure and wish to remain so; 2d, to put myself where he
believes he can insult me with impunity; 3d, the insult.
I only wanted one move toward the third play on your part to pick you
financially to pieces. You did not make it, and I could go no farther.
If this leniency of mine is a deadly sin I can only pray that the
temptation to commit another like it will not come to me soon.
And now, my very dear friend, I must say good-by. Take it altogether, my
two months with you have not been unhappy ones. On your part, if you
have learned your lesson well, the investment you have made ought to
yield a fair dividend. Forget me, if you can, forgive me at any rate. I
have already given up my lodgings, so you need not seek me there. My
address is for the present a secret.
Yours Sincerely,
"MARJORIE."
Donald Camran, Esq., The Lambs.
* * * * *
I had finished the entire story and yet I sat upright, with my senses
all about me. I was going to bear it very well, after all.
A knock was heard upon the door of my apartment. The hallboy entered
when I bade him do so and handed me a card, with the statement that the
gentleman wished to see me on very important business. The name on the
card was unknown to me, but I bade the boy send the owner up. It might
prove a diversion and anything was welcome that would take my mind from
Marjorie.
I rose and was about to greet the new comer in the usual terms when a
sight of his face stopped me.
"Mr. Wesson, what does this mean?" I asked, angrily.
"It means," said the person, with all his old coolness, "that Mr. Wesson
has disappeared from the scene, and that I am plain Martin Daly, of the
Blinkerdon Police, at your service."
Staggered to the last degree I scanned his card again. It read, "M.
Daly, Boston."
"What do you want of me?" I asked, still standing and allowing him to do
the same.
"In the first place," he answered, "perhaps you will permit me to take a
chair. In the second, you may be kind enough to read a letter which I
have brought."
He took the chair, without waiting for my permission and I received the
letter, which I saw at once was addressed in the handwriting of my Uncle
Dugald.
My Dear Nephew [it read]:--This will introduce Detective Daly of the
Blinkerdons, who, at my request, has been for eight or nine weeks
attending to matters of importance to you. He will show you his bill
for services and expenses, which I would suggest deserves your early
consideration. If you decline, for any reason, to pay the bill,
kindly let me know at once, that I may give him my own check for the
amount.
Yours, etc.,
DUGALD CAMRAN.
New York, April 9th, 1898.
I opened the bill, which had fallen upon the table, and read the
following:
Donald Camran, Esq., to Martin Daly, Dr.
To services ninety days at $7 per day $630.00
To expenses of travel, etc., 521.50
To cash paid pawnbroker at Martinique and
holder of ticket 125.00
--------
$1276.50
"What the devil does this mean, sir?" I demanded, very red in the face.
"It means," said Mr. Daly, affably, "that your uncle engaged me to make
the West Indian voyage in your company and protect you from any
designing persons. The price per day was the one he himself fixed, and
is somewhat less than I am in the habit of receiving. A desire to visit
that part of the world induced me to accept the lower rate. The
expenses, I hardly think you will deny, have been kept very reasonable."
I reddened more than ever.
"In plain English, sir, you have been dogging my footsteps, and desire
me to foot the bill."
"You or your uncle--it is all the same to me," he responded, quite
unruffled. "I think you have had some narrower escapes, sir, than you
yet realize."
With Miss May's confession lying before me on the table I could not well
doubt that. Still the shame of my position was no less galling.
"We can postpone the consideration of that little matter for the
present, if you desire," continued Daly, for such I must now call him.
"What is of more pressing importance, is the examination of Jack Hazen,
or Robert Edgerly, as you knew him, which is set down for day after
to-morrow."
"What!" I cried, startled out of myself.
"Oh, I forgot. You know the check for $350 that you gave him when he
buncoed you on the Madiana? Well, he raised that to $3500, and was
arrested while trying to collect that sum at your bank. After you told
me you had given him the check I had just time to stop the swindle by
cable."
Edgerly arrested? Poor Marjorie! That was all I could think of.
"He is an old offender," continued Daly, "and will get a sweetener this
time. At what hour can I expect you to-morrow at the district attorney's
office? Twelve o'clock will suit me. Twelve? All right. I see you are
busy. Good day, Mr. Camran."
He was gone and I sat there alone with my reflections. It may readily be
guessed they were not agreeable.
The only thing I was sure of was that I should pay Daly's bill at once,
if I had the requisite balance to my credit in the bank; and that I
wished he had been in a warmer place than Barbados before he ever
interfered in my affairs.