DENIAL.
This, then, was the weapon which Joad had reserved to strike his last
blow. By denouncing Scott he hoped to win a fortune; but by keeping
silent for Dora's sake he thought he could force her to marry him. In
either case he stood to win. With his indifference to money, he
preferred the girl to the fifty thousand pounds. It only remained for
her to accept his hand, in order to save her lover from death on the
gallows. But as yet this was doubtful. Certainly the bolt had been
shot; but would the bolt fall? He waited.
With fixed eyes and bloodless face, Dora retreated slowly backwards.
At length she reached the wall, and leant against it, overcome with
mingled feelings of terror and astonishment. Joad, his hands hanging
loosely by his sides, stood looking at her, with a doubtful smile on
his pale lips. Seeing that she did not speak, he repeated his
accusation in a different form. He was now calmer.
"Your lover is the murderer of your guardian," said he, watching the
effect of each word.
Something in the malice of his tones brought back the courage to
Dora's heart with a rush. She flushed up bravely, and stepped forward
boldly. Joad did not move, and she came close to him--so close that he
could feel her breath on his withered cheek. For a final taunt he
spoke again.
"A murderer--that fine young man--your lover! Just think of it!"
"You lie!" She brought out the words coldly, and without the least
display of passion. Knowing Scott as she did, the charge was so
monstrous that she could hardly forbear from breaking into hysterical
laughter. As it was, she controlled herself admirably, and merely
repeated her words. "You lie, Mr. Joad," she said steadily. "Your
accusation springs from malice. You cannot substantiate your lie."
Without wasting time in asseverations, Joad simply raised his finger
to emphasize his words. He related without preamble the grounds upon
which he based his accusation.
"Listen," he said, in his rich, deep voice; "you remember that day on
which you brought Scott to see Julian. Very good. As you know, they
had a serious quarrel. You heard yourself that Julian called out for
protection. Scott wished to kill him at that moment."
"But why--why?" she stammered, making a vague gesture with her hand.
"Ah! you ask me more than I can tell. I was not present during the
conversation, you know. However, I can guess what took place. I refuse
to tell all, but this much I dare speak. Julian cast certain
reflections on the dead parents of Scott; he mentioned something which
took place twenty and more years ago."
"At Christchurch?" she murmured.
He looked surprised.
"I don't know who told you so much," he said brusquely, "but I admit
that your information is correct. At Christchurch, Miss Carew, an
episode took place which was not creditable to Dr. Scott's parents."
"Had the episode to do with Mr. Edermont?"
"I cannot tell you. I am speaking of my grounds for suspecting your
lover. What passed before matters nothing. Suffice it for you to
understand that Julian quarrelled with Scott, and he was afraid lest
the young man should murder him. You heard his cry for help."
"Well?" said Dora, seeing that he paused.
"Well," replied Joad, with a suave smile, "he _did_ murder him."
"No; I do not believe it. Where are your proofs?"
Joad darted an imperious glance at her shrinking form.
"I am about to produce my proofs," he declared calmly. "On the night
of the second of August I left here at nine o'clock. You assisted
Julian to lock the gates behind me, if I remember. I went to my
cottage and had my supper. Afterwards I waited for Mr. Pride, who had
promised to look in on his return from Canterbury. Ten o'clock, eleven
o'clock, twelve o'clock struck, and still Pride did not come. I
thought that he had arranged to stay all night in Canterbury, but
shortly after twelve I went out on to the road to see if he was
coming. I did not see him; I did see Dr. Scott."
"Allen?" cried Dora disbelievingly.
"Himself. He was coming down the road on a bicycle."
"How could you recognise him in the dark?"
"The moon was up. I recognised him in the moonlight."
"Did he see you?"
"No; I was standing in the shadow. I was astonished to see him near
the Red House at midnight, and I watched him. He passed the gates, and
got off his bicycle at the end of the wall. Then he turned down the
side path which leads to the postern gate. I waited to see if he would
return, but as he did not I was about to follow him, when Pride
arrived. Unwilling to say anything about what I had seen, lest it
should compromise your lover, I took Pride into my house, and there I
got talking to him till after two o'clock. In the interest of our
conversation, I quite forgot Scott and his visit. But the next
morning"--he looked at her in a crafty way--"I heard of the murder,
and I found the postern gate open."
"And--and what inference do you draw from all this?" murmured Dora,
with white lips.
"I infer that Scott called to see Julian with reference to their
previous quarrel, perhaps to demand proofs as to the episode of
Christchurch. I believe that he climbed the wall and entered the house
through the glass door of the drawing-room, which Julian had not
locked. I have no doubt that he found Julian in his study, that Julian
told him the story of the episode was locked up in the bureau. No
doubt Scott insisted upon having the papers which revealed the
dishonour of his parents placed in his hands. Julian would naturally
refuse. Then the quarrel would recommence, and the end of it would
be--well," added Joad, with a shrug, "you know the rest. Julian was
killed, and the bureau robbed of that paper. What further proof can
you desire that Dr. Scott murdered your guardian?"
Dora heard this story with a suffocating feeling in her throat. She
felt as though a net were being thrown round Allen, as though he would
be tangled in its meshes. It was true that he had returned from London
on the night of the murder; but she could not understand why he should
have visited the Red House at midnight. Then she remembered that Allen
had gone to town on business connected with that terrible conversation
with Edermont. What if he had learnt that Edermont had spoken the
truth regarding the dishonour of his parents, and had returned to
revenge himself on the old man? These thoughts occurred to her with
lightning rapidity; but in the end they all gave place to one. She
must save him at any cost; to do so she must close Joad's mouth.
"Why did you not speak of this before?" she asked in a trembling
voice.
"I wished to tell you first. You know that I love you. I wish you to
be my wife. If you marry me, Scott will be safe. If not----"
"If not, what would you do?"
"My duty," said he solemnly.
The situation was frightful. Dora felt that she must scream, if only
to relieve the tension of her nerves. If Joad denounced Allen, the
doctor would be arrested; and what defence could he make, what
explanation could he give, for coming to the Red House on the night,
at the very time, of the committal of the crime? She said nothing,
trying to collect her thoughts, while Joad blinked at her through his
half-shut eyes.
"And, after all, you couldn't marry him," he declared suddenly; "he is
guilty."
"That has yet to be proved," said Dora faintly. "I cannot believe that
Allen committed so horrible a crime. His motive----"
"His motive will be found in the papers he stole," said Joad brutally.
"But come--your answer. Consent to be my wife, or I go to the police
this evening."
"You--you must give me time," she stammered.
Joad nodded.
"That is only fair," he said gravely. "I will give you a week. If you
do not promise by that time, well--your lover goes to the scaffold."
How Dora got out of the library and climbed the stairs to her own room
she did not know. There was a humming in her ears, and the place
seemed to go round and round. With an access of despair she threw
herself on the bed, and tried to face the situation. Allen was
innocent, she was certain, although no proofs of such innocence
presented themselves at the moment. But, on the face of it, his
conduct appeared to be suspicious. What was he doing at the Red House
at midnight? Why had he come there by stealth? If Joad denounced him,
Dora could see no hope of saving his life. Still, she could protect
him by becoming the wife of this disreputable Silenus, whom she
loathed with all her soul. But he held Allen's life in his hand, and
the poor young fellow was doomed unless he could make some defence.
Defence! She sat up suddenly and thought. She had not yet heard
Allen's side of the question. Perhaps he could explain himself, and
give a reasonable excuse for his presence in the study at so untoward
an hour. She remembered that Edermont had written asking Allen to call
and see him. Might he not have appointed the conference for midnight,
and have left the postern gate and the glass door open so that Allen
could enter without attracting attention? All this was feasible
enough, and might be put forward in his defence. But on second
thoughts Dora gave way to despair. Even so straightforward a tale
would be against the presumption of his innocence.
Assuming that he had been in the study at the appointed hour, how
could he prove himself guiltless? The fact of the previous quarrel was
known to herself and Joad. Nothing was more likely than that they
might have continued their dispute. Perhaps Edermont might have
threatened Allen with his pistol, and to protect himself Scott might
have torn the knobkerrie from the wall. But had he struck the blow?
Had he---- Dora closed her eyes with a faint cry, to shut out the
vision of horror which that thought conjured into existence.
Without doubt Allen had been present in the study at the time of the
murder. Joad saw him after twelve o'clock. Dora knew that the crime
had been committed a minute or so before one. It was just possible
that Allen had left the house before that time. But who could prove
that he had so departed? Dora rose from her bed, and paced to and fro,
distracted by a hundred thoughts that swarmed in her head like hiving
bees.
"The murder was committed before one o'clock," she said aloud. "I can
prove that. The striking of the clock came almost on top of that cry
for help. Could Allen have gone away before then? He must have done. I
cannot believe that he would murder an inoffensive old man. No
provocation would make him commit so brutal a crime. He is cool and
collected; he is not passionate and impulsive. No, no, no! Allen is
innocent! He left my guardian alive and well. Allen went--but who
remained?"
Had two people been present? Dora remembered that Edermont had written
other letters at the same time as that to Allen. Perhaps he had
invited a third person to be present at that midnight conference. If
so, when Allen departed, the third person might have remained to kill
Edermont and rifle the desk. If such were the case, Allen must know
the name of that third person. Why, then, did he not denounce that
person to the police?--not so much for the gaining of fifty thousand
pounds as to accomplish an act of justice. Why was he silent? Why did
he not speak out in his own defence? Dora could not but acknowledge in
her own heart that the circumstantial evidence was strong against her
lover.
"Oh, I can't stay here thinking--thinking!" she cried fiercely; "it
will drive me mad. I shall go to Canterbury and see Allen. He must
speak out now, if only to defend himself from Joad. A week--a
week--seven days--and his life and my happiness to be saved in that
short space of time. I must think; I must act. Oh, Allen, Allen!"
She glanced at her watch. It was close on four o'clock. If she rode
into Canterbury at once, she might find Allen at home. He usually came
in between four and five to have tea. No one was likely to be present,
so she would have him all to herself. At once she made up her mind,
and without a word to Joad or to Mrs. Tice she went out of the house.
In a few minutes she was spinning along the highroad as fast as her
machine could go.
Dora was right in her surmise. Allen was at home, and at tea. She went
straight into the dining-room and saw him at the table. He looked up
with an air of astonishment at her appearance; and, noting his pale
and startled face, Dora felt a pang. Was he guilty after all, or was
the terror visible in his face merely the result of her sudden
entrance? Without a word, she shut the door sharply, and took a seat
by the side of the table. Allen welcomed her with an air of
constraint. He offered her a cup of tea and a plate of cake. Dora
pushed them both away in a state of fierce excitement, leant her arms
on the table, and looked at him steadily. He stared at her in
surprise, marvelling at her strange behaviour.
"Allen," she said abruptly, "what were you doing at the Red House on
the night of the murder?"
The young man turned even paler than before, dropped the plates he was
holding, and fell into his chair as though he had been shot.
"Who--who says I was there?" he stammered.
"Mr. Joad--he accuses you."
"Accuses--acc----"--he could hardly get the words out--"accuses
me--of what?"
"Of murdering Mr. Edermont. Allen, don't look at me like that. It is
not true?"
"Dora," said Allen, shaking as with palsy, "I--I--I am--I am innocent.
I--I swear--I'm innocent!"