IN WHICH I AM ANXIOUS TO LEARN THE PARTICULARS OF A MATTER OF FOURTEEN
YEARS STANDING
My mother's summer home was built upon the highest point of Bolderhead
Neck and commanded a view of both the ocean and the inlet, or harbor,
around which Old Bolderhead was built.
My mother's early life had not been spent near the water; her people
dwelt inland. My maternal grandfather owned half a township and was a
very influential man. Naturally my mother had lived in affluence during
her girlhood and it was considered by her friends a great mistake on her
part when she married my father. He was a ship's surgeon when they were
married and his only income was derived from the practise of his
profession. He established himself as a physician in Bolderhead after
the wedding; they lived simply, and I was their only child.
Grandfather didn't forgive mother for marrying a poor man. The old
gentleman didn't get along well with his relatives, anyway. He hadn't
liked the man his oldest daughter married, Mr. Chester Downes. When I
grew old enough to understand the character of Mr. Downes I could not
blame grandfather for his bad opinion of the man! Aunt Alice dying
before grandfather, Mr. Downes could never hope to handle much of
grandfather's money. There was a sum set aside for Paul in grandfather's
will. And even that Mr. Downes could not touch; it was tied up until
Paul was of age. After several large charities had been remembered in
the will the residue of the property had come to my mother. As I
understood it I was but two years old when grandfather died, and my own
father was drowned three weeks after grandfather's burial.
We had gone to live at once in mother's old home; but she had a tender
feeling for Bolderhead, and as I grew older and evinced such a love for
the sea, she had built our summer home here.
Mother was one of those dependent, timid women, who seem unable to
decide any matter for themselves. Not that she wasn't the very best
mother that ever lived! But she _was_ easily influenced by other people.
As I grew older and began to understand what went on more clearly, I
knew that Chester Downes possessed a stronger influence over mother than
was good for either her or me. He was her confidant in business matters,
too.
Being brought up in the same inland town together, my cousin Paul and I
naturally saw a good deal of each other. Frankly I saw altogether too
much of him--and I told my mother so. But Mr. Downes was all the time
coming to the house--especially to the Bolderhead cottage--and bringing
Paul with him.
I felt that they were steadily and insidiously influencing mother
against me. We were drifting apart. Mother had through them acquired the
belief that I was a rude and untrustworthy fellow, and she feared my
boatmen companions were weaning me from her. Whereas I kept away from
the house because the Downeses were there. I couldn't stand so much of
them.
But on this evening I was determined that matters should come to a head.
I saw my way clear, I believed, through Paul's vicious attack upon me,
to rid the house of the Downeses for good and all.
As we came up the hill I saw that my mother, and doubtless Mr. Downes,
were in the drawing room. It was long past the dinner hour. I drove
Paul up onto the veranda and towards a French window that opened into
the illuminated room. He began to hang back again.
"S'pose there's somebody there?" he said.
"That'll be the worse for you," I responded, callously. "Come on!"
I unlatched the window, held aside the draperies, and pushed him into
the room before me. My mother and his father were the only persons
present.
"Why, boys! how late you are," said my pretty mother, looking up from
the lacework in her lap. Her fingers were always busy. "Were you
becalmed outside? You must be awfully hungry. Ring for James, Clinton,
and he will fix you up something nice in the pantry." Then she saw
Paul's bound wrists, his bruised face, and our disarranged clothing.
"What is the matter?" she cried, starting to her feet.
Mr. Downes had observed us too, and he broke in with: "What is the
meaning of this outrage, Clinton Webb? My son's wrists lashed together!
How dare you, sir?"
"I tied him up, Mr. Downes," I explained before Paul could get in a
word; "but I turn him over to your now, sir, and if you wish to release
him you may."
"Why--why--Whoever heard of such insolence?" sputtered Mr. Downes. "You
see, Mary, what this young ruffian has done to poor Paul? Stand still,
will you?" he added, jerking Paul around as he tried to untie the cod
line. Paul began to snivel; I reckon his father pulled the line so tight
that it cut into the flesh.
"See what he has done, Mary?" repeated my angry uncle, finally pulling
out his pocketknife and cutting the cord. "Look at Paul's face! What
have I told you about that boy?" and he pointed a bony and accusing
index finger at me.
"Clinton! Clinton!" cried mother. "What have you done?"
Her question cut me to the quick. It showed me how deeply she had been
impressed by Mr. Downes' calumnies. Her first thought was that I was at
fault--that I had been the aggressor.
"You can see what I have done to him," said I, a little sullenly, I
fear. "We got into a row on the boat coming in, and that is how he came
by his bruises. But I tied him up because I didn't fancy being slit up
like a codfish with this thing," and I drew the claspknife--a regular
sailor's "gully"--from my coat pocket and tossed it, open, upon the
table.
Mother screamed and shuddered, and sank back into her chair again.
"You needn't be scared," I said, more tenderly, crossing to her side and
putting my arm across her shoulders. "I'm not hurt at all. He only slit
my coat sleeve!"
Mr. Downes glanced from his son's swollen and disfigured face to my
flapping coatsleeve, and fear came into his own countenance. He knew
something about the ungovernable rages into which Paul frequently flew.
He was obliged to wet his lips with s tongue before he could speak:
"You will not believe this horrible, scandalous story, Mary!
Why--why--The boy is beside himself!"
"I think Paul was," I said, gravely. "We were both angry--I admit that.
But I used nothing but my fists on him."
"Paul! Why don't you speak up and deny this charge?"
"I--I never struck him with the knife," said my cousin, sullenly.
"He--he tied my arms and then he--he slit the coat himself. I--I never
touched him."
He lied so clumsily that even my innocent and horrified mother could
not believe him. But Mr. Dowries tried to make out that he believed
Paul.
"Listen to that, Mary!" he blustered. "Did you ever hear of such
depravity--such viciousness? A plot to ruin my boy in your eyes--a
cowardly plot!"
"It is no plot, Mr. Downes, and you know it," I said. "But I am going to
use the circumstance to a purpose which for some time I have longed to
accomplish. You and Paul will leave my mother's house--and leave it at
once!"
"Clinton!" gasped mother, seizing my hand.
"There, Madam!" cried Mr. Downes, furiously. "He has just as good as
admitted it is a conspiracy. Nefarious! He has invented this story----"
"Mr. Downes," I interrupted, my anger rising, "you have done everything
you could to prejudice mother against me. Is it any wonder that I desire
to see the last of you and your precious son?"
"Clinton! Clinton! My dear son," mother begged. "Don't be so
passionate."
"I never was more calm in my life," I responded, firmly. "But these two
shall not stay in our house another night, mother."
She burst into tears. Mr. Downes stepped nearer and his sneering look
would have enraged me at another time. But I felt that I had the
whip-hand and held myself in.
"Fortunately," he said, "your will, young man, is not law here. It is
not in your power to put us out of your mother's home."
"You are mistaken," I replied, still quietly. "I have that power."
"You are a minor, sir," said Mr. Downes, loftily. "I brand your
ridiculous story as false. It would be quite within your character to
have cut your coat sleeve as Paul says. I will not even believe that
that is his knife----"
He stretched out his hand to take it from the table but I was too quick
for him. "No, you don't!" I said. "That is too valuable a bit of
evidence for you to get hold of. Even Paul will not deny owning the
knife. I know where he bought it and I can find the man who engraved his
initials on the blade."
"Very well planned indeed," sneered Mr. Downes, but I sternly
interrupted:
"Mr. Downes, again I tell you that you _must_ leave this house. You and
Paul shall never again live under the same roof with me."
"When I hear your mother say this----"
"This is a matter which my mother will not have to decide," I assured
him, and without looking at her although I had returned to my place by
her side.
"And why should we obey your behest, young man?"
"If you don't leave I shall go out at once and swear out a warrant
against Paul for assault with this knife. And I'll have the warrant
served, too."
"Oh, Clinton!" sobbed my mother. "Don't think of such a thing."
"As sure as I live it shall be done, unless they go."
"Think of the publicity!" said my mother, clinging to my hand.
"Yes," I rejoined, bitterly. "And think what might have happened if he'd
got me with that knife."
"You--you----" gasped Mr. Downes. "You are your father right over
again!"
"Thank you; I consider that a compliment."
"You wouldn't consider it such if you knew as much about him as I do,"
he muttered.
"Now that will do!" I exclaimed, losing my self-control on the instant.
"I've heard enough insinuations regarding father from Paul tonight. I
won't stand any more of that talk, I warn you both!"
"Clinton!" murmured mother, with a very white face, while Downes turned
upon his son in a sudden rage.
"What have you been saying--you fool?" he snarled. Paul was quite cowed
before his sudden wrath.
"Paul may be diffident about saying," I observed. "But I'll tell you. He
says my father committed suicide, and that if he hadn't done so my
mother and I would be paupers today."
I never saw a man's countenance express such changes of emotion within
so short a time. From anger to fear--and back again--was such a swift
transition that it startled me. I began from that moment to wonder very
much what the mystery was which surrounded my father's death fourteen
years before!
But the next instant my attention was recalled to my mother. For a
moment she sat motionless. Now she started up from her chair with a
little cry.
"What is it, mother?" I cried, in alarm. Had I not caught her she would
have fallen to the floor.
"Now, see what you have done!" snarled Mr. Downes. "You have
over-excited her. Get out of the way, boy----"
I gave him a look that halted him. Had he touched my mother then I
would have been at his throat! Exerting all my strength I picked her up
bodily and carried her to the nearest couch. The bell push was at hand
and I rang for her maid. The woman responded immediately and James was
right behind her in the hall.
"Attend to your mistress, Marie," I said. "And James!"
"Yes, sir," said the big butler, coming to the door.
"Order the carriage at once and see that Mr. Downes' bags are brought
down. They are leaving immediately."
The butler's face was perfectly impassive. Mr. Downes broke into a nasty
laugh.
"James will do nothing of the sort," he said. "I think too much of my
sister to leave the house while she is so unwell. What do you think,
Marie? Is it serious? Shall I telephone for Dr. Eldridge?"
"I do not know, Monsieur," replied the French woman, anxiously. "She has
been frightened--ees eet not?"
"This young reprobate would frighten anybody!" cried Mr. Downes,
blusteringly.
"James," I said again, "do as I have told you. Tell Ham to bring the
carriage around inside of half an hour and to drive wherever Mr. Downes
shall direct. The ferry is not running at this hour, or I would not
trouble him."
The butler glanced from my mother's death-white face to Mr. Downes. He
did not so much as favor me with a look, but with sphynx-like composure
left the room. To tell the truth I hadn't the least idea whether he
would obey me, or Mr. Downes.