THE MURDER AT THE SLATE-PITS.
It was late on this same evening. All day long the thunder had been
rumbling and growling, and now the storm seemed close at hand.
I had partly undressed, but it was too hot to get into bed, so I leaned
out of my wide-open window, watching the black clouds hanging down from
the sky, and listening to the rustling of leaves in the wood--sure sign
of the coming storm.
The air was stifling; and, longing feverishly for the rain, I sat in the
deep window-sill and looked out into the scented darkness, for
honeysuckle and clematis drooped around my window and the garden below
was overgrown with homely, sweet-smelling flowers.
Suddenly I started. I was quick at hearing, and I had distinctly caught
the sound of a light, firm step passing down the garden path beneath. My
first impulse was to call out, but I checked it when I recognised the
tall, graceful figure moving swiftly along the gravel walk in the shade
of the yew-hedge. It was my mother!
I watched her, scarcely believing my eyes. What could she be wanting in
the garden at this hour? And while I sat on the window casement,
wondering, a cold shiver of alarm chilled me, for I saw a man creep
stealthily out from the wood and hurry across the little stretch of
meadow towards the garden gate, where she was standing.
The moon was shining with a sickly light through a thick halo of mist and
I could only just distinguish the figures of my mother and this man, side
by side, talking earnestly. I watched them with riveted eyes until I
heard a quick step on the floor behind me and a hand was laid upon my
mouth, stifling my cry of surprise.
"It's only me, Philip, lad," whispered a hoarse, tremulous voice. "I
didn't want you to call out--that's all. Hast seen anything of this
before?" And he pointed, with shaking finger, towards the window, from
which he had drawn me back a little.
I looked at him, a great horror stealing over me. His ruddy face was
blanched and drawn, as though with pain; and there was a terrible light
in his eyes. I was frightened and half inclined to cry.
"No," I faltered. "It's only Mr. Francis, isn't it?"
"Only Mr. Francis!" I heard my father repeat, with a groan. "Oh, Alice,
lass--Alice! How could you?"
He staggered blindly towards the door. I rushed after him, piteously
calling him back, but he pushed me off roughly and hurried out.
I heard him leave the house, but he did not go down the garden. Then, in
a few minutes, every one of which seemed to me like an hour, the low
voices at the gate ceased and my mother came slowly up the path towards
the house.
I rushed downstairs and met her in the hall. She seemed half surprised,
half angry, to see me.
"Philip," she exclaimed, "I thought you were in bed long ago! What are
you doing here?"
"I am frightened!" I sobbed out. "Father has been in my room watching you
at the gate and he talked so strangely. He is very angry and he looks as
though he were going to hurt someone."
My mother leaned against the wall, every vestige of colour gone from her
face, and her hand pressed to her side. She understood better than I did
then.
"Where is he now?" she asked hysterically. "Quick, Philip--quick! Tell
me!"
"He is gone," I answered. "He went out by the front door and up the
road."
A sudden calmness seemed to come to her and she stood for a moment
thinking aloud.
"He has gone up to the wood gate! They will meet in the wood. Oh, Heaven,
prevent it!" she cried passionately.
She turned and rushed into the garden, down the path and through the
wicket gate towards the wood. I followed her, afraid to stay alone. A
vast mass of inky-black clouds had sailed in front of the moon and the
darkness, especially in the wood, was intense.
More than once I fell headlong down, scratching my face and hands with
the brambles; but each time I was on my feet immediately, scarcely
conscious of the pain in my wild desire to keep near my mother.
How she found her way I cannot tell. Great pieces of her dress were torn
off and remained hanging to the bushes into which she stepped; and many
times I saw her run against a tree and recoil half stunned by the shock.
But still we made progress, and at last we came to a part of the wood
where the trees and undergrowth were less dense and there was a steep
ascent. Up it we ran and when we reached the top my mother paused to
listen, while I stood, breathless, by her side.
Save that the leaves above us were stirring with a curious motion, there
was not a sound in the whole wood. Birds and animals, even insects,
seemed to have crept away to their holes before the coming storm. We
could see nothing, for a thick mantle of darkness--a darkness which could
almost be felt--had fallen upon the earth. We stood crouched together,
trembling and fearful.
"Thank Heaven for the darkness!" my mother murmured to herself. "Philip,"
she went on, stooping down and feeling for my hand, "do you know where we
are? We should be close to the slate-pits."
I was on the point of answering her, but the words died away on my parted
lips. Such a sight as was revealed to us at that moment might have driven
a strong man mad.
Although half a lifetime has passed away, I can see it now as at that
moment. But describe it I cannot, for no words of mine could paint the
thrilling beauty and, at the same time, the breathless horror of the
scene which opened like a flash before us.
Trees, sky, and space were suddenly bathed in a brilliant, lurid light,
the like of which I have never since seen, nor ever shall again. It came
and went in a space of time which only thought could measure; and this is
what it showed us:--
Yawning at our feet the deep pit and sullen waters of the quarry, for we
were scarcely a single step from the precipitous edge; the huge piles of
slate and the sheds with the workmen's tools scattered around; and my
father, his arms thrown upwards in agony, and a wild cry bursting from
his lips, at the very moment that he was hurled over the opposite side of
the chasm!
We saw the frantic convulsions of despair upon his ashen face, his eyes
starting from their sockets, as he felt himself falling into space; and
we saw the dim outline of another man staggering back from the brink,
with his hands outstretched before his face, in horror at what he had
done.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the fierce glare vanished. The
heavens--only a moment before open and flooding the land with sheets of
living fire--were black and impenetrable, and the crashing thunder shook
the air around and made the earth tremble, as though it were splitting up
and the very elements were being dissolved.
With a cry, the heartrending anguish of which will ring for ever in my
ears, my mother sank down, a white, scared heap; and I, my limbs unstrung
and my senses numbed, crouched helpless beside her. Then the rain fell
and there was silence.