indebted to you. You were very good to nurse me so carefully. Will you
be still kinder, and help me in a new matter which I feel quite
incompetent to undertake alone?"
Her face was flushed, her manner nervous, but her eyes had an
extraordinary look in them which affected me most painfully,
notwithstanding the additional effect it gave to her beauty.
"Certainly," said I. "What can I do for you?"
"I wish to buy me a dress," was her unexpected reply. "A handsome dress.
Do you object to showing me the best shops? I am a stranger in New
York."
More astonished than I can express, but carefully concealing it in
remembrance of the caution received from Mr. Gryce, I replied that I
would be only too happy to accompany her on such an errand. Upon which
she lost her nervousness and prepared at once to go out with me.
"I would have asked Mrs. Desberger," she observed while fitting on her
gloves, "but her taste"--here she cast a significant look about the
room--"is not quiet enough for me."
"I should think not!" I cried.
"I shall be a trouble to you," the girl went on, with a gleam in her eye
that spoke of the restless spirit within. "I have many things to buy,
and they must all be rich and handsome."
"If you have money enough, there will be no trouble about that."
"Oh, I have money." She spoke like a millionaire's daughter. "Shall we
go to Arnold's?"
As I always traded at Arnold's, I readily acquiesced, and we left the
house. But not before she had tied a very thick veil over her face.
"If we meet any one, do not introduce me," she begged. "I cannot talk to
people."
"You may rest easy," I assured her.
At the corner she stopped. "Is there any way of getting a carriage?" she
asked.
"Do you want one?"
"Yes."
I signalled a hack.
"Now for the dress!" she cried.
We rode at once to Arnold's.
"What kind of a dress do you want?" I inquired as we entered the store.
"An evening one; a white satin, I think."
I could not help the exclamation which escaped me; but I covered it up
as quickly as possible by a hurried remark in favor of white, and we
proceeded at once to the silk counter.
"I will trust it all to you," she whispered in an odd, choked tone as
the clerk approached us. "Get what you would for your daughter--no, no!
for Mr. Van Burnam's daughter, if he has one, and do not spare expense.
I have five hundred dollars in my pocket."
Mr. Van Burnam's daughter! Well, well! A tragedy of some kind was
portending! But I bought the dress.
"Now," said she, "lace, and whatever else I need to make it up suitably.
And I must have slippers and gloves. You know what a young girl requires
to make her look like a lady. I want to look so well that the most
critical eye will detect no fault in my appearance. It can be done, can
it not, Miss Butterworth? My face and figure will not spoil the effect,
will they?"
"No," said I; "you have a good face and a beautiful figure. You ought to
look well. Are you going to a ball, my dear?"
"I am going to a ball," she answered; but her tone was so strange the
people passing us turned to look at her.
"Let us have everything sent to the carriage," said she, and went with
me from counter to counter with her ready purse in her hand, but not
once lifting her veil to look at what was offered us, saying over and
over as I sought to consult her in regard to some article: "Buy the
richest; I leave it all to you."
Had Mr. Gryce not told me she must be humored, I could never have gone
through this ordeal. To see a girl thus expend her hoarded savings on
such frivolities was absolutely painful to me, and more than once I was
tempted to decline any further participation in such extravagance. But a
thought of my obligations to Mr. Gryce restrained me, and I went on
spending the poor girl's dollars with more pain to myself than if I had
taken them out of my own pocket.
Having purchased all the articles we thought necessary, we were turning
towards the door when Miss Oliver whispered:
"Wait for me in the carriage for just a few minutes. I have one more
thing to buy, and I must do it alone."
"But----" I began.
"I will do it, and I will not be followed," she insisted, in a shrill
tone that made me jump.
And seeing no other way of preventing a scene, I let her leave me,
though it cost me an anxious fifteen minutes.
When she rejoined me, as she did at the expiration of that time, I eyed
the bundle she held with decided curiosity. But I could make no guess at
its contents.
"Now," she cried, as she reseated herself and closed the carriage door,
"where shall I find a dressmaker able and willing to make up this satin
in five days?"
I could not tell her. But after some little search we succeeded in
finding a woman who engaged to make an elegant costume in the time given
her. The first measurements were taken, and we drove back to Ninth
Street with a lasting memory in my mind of the cold and rigid form of
Miss Oliver standing up in Madame's triangular parlor, submitting to the
mechanical touches of the modiste with an outward composure, but with a
brooding horror in her eyes that bespoke an inward torment.
XXXIX.
THE WATCHFUL EYE.
As I parted with Miss Oliver on Mrs. Desberger's stoop and did not visit
her again in that house, I will introduce the report of a person better
situated than myself to observe the girl during the next few days. That
the person thus alluded to was a woman in the service of the police is
evident, and as such may not meet with your approval, but her words are
of interest, as witness:
* * * * *
"Friday P.M.
"Party went out to-day in company with an elderly female of respectable
appearance. Said elderly female wears puffs, and moves with great
precision. I say this in case her identification should prove necessary.
"I had been warned that Miss O. would probably go out, and as the man
set to watch the front door was on duty, I occupied myself during her
absence in making a neat little hole in the partitions between our two
rooms, so that I should not be obliged to offend my next-door neighbor
by too frequent visits to her apartment. This done, I awaited her
return, which was delayed till it was almost dark. When she did come in,
her arms were full of bundles. These she thrust into a bureau-drawer,
with the exception of one, which she laid with great care under her
pillow. I wondered what this one could be, but could get no inkling from
its size or shape. Her manner when she took off her hat was fiercer than
before, and a strange smile, which I had not previously observed on her
lips, added force to her expression. But it paled after supper-time, and
she had a restless night. I could hear her walk the floor long after I
thought it prudent on my part to retire, and at intervals through the
night I was disturbed by her moaning, which was not that of a sick
person but of one very much afflicted in mind.
"Saturday.
"Party quiet. Sits most of the time with hands clasped on her knee
before the fire. Given to quick starts as if suddenly awakened from an
absorbing train of thought. A pitiful object, especially when seized by
terror as she is at odd times. No walks, no visitors to-day. Once I
heard her speak some words in a strange language, and once she drew
herself up before the mirror in an attitude of so much dignity I was
surprised at the fine appearance she made. The fire of her eyes at this
moment was remarkable. I should not be surprised at any move she might
make.
"Sunday.
"She has been writing to-day. But when she had filled several pages of
letter paper she suddenly tore them all up and threw them into the fire.
Time seems to drag with her, for she goes every few minutes to the
window from which a distant church clock is visible, and sighs as she
turns away. More writing in the evening and some tears. But the writing
was burned as before, and the tears stopped by a laugh that augurs
little good to the person who called it up. The package has been taken
from under her pillow and put in some place not visible from my
spy-hole.
"Monday.
"Party out again to-day, gone some two hours or more. When she returned
she sat down before the mirror and began dressing her hair. She has fine
hair, and she tried arranging it in several ways. None seemed to satisfy
her, and she tore it down again and let it hang till supper-time, when
she wound it up in its usual simple knot. Mrs. Desberger spent some
minutes with her, but their talk was far from confidential, and
therefore uninteresting. I wish people would speak louder when they talk
to themselves.
"Tuesday.
"Great restlessness on the part of the young person I am watching. No
quiet for her, no quiet for me, yet she accomplishes nothing, and as yet
has furnished me no clue to her thoughts.
"A huge box was brought into the room to-night. It seemed to cause her
dread rather than pleasure, for she shrank at sight of it, and has not
yet attempted to open it. But her eyes have never left it since it was
set down on the floor. It looks like a dressmaker's box, but why such
emotion over a gown?
"Wednesday.
"This morning she opened the box but did not display its contents. I
caught one glimpse of a mass of tissue paper, and then she put the cover
on again, and for a good half hour sat crouching down beside it,
shuddering like one in an ague-fit. I began to feel there was something
deadly in the box, her eyes wandered towards it so frequently and with
such contradictory looks of dread and savage determination. When she
got up it was to see how many more minutes of the wretched day had
passed.
"Thursday.
"Party sick; did not try to leave her bed. Breakfast brought up by Mrs.
Desberger, who showed her every attention, but could not prevail upon
her to eat. Yet she would not let the tray be taken away, and when she
was alone again or thought herself alone, she let her eyes rest so long
on the knife lying across her plate, that I grew nervous and could
hardly restrain myself from rushing into the room. But I remembered my
instructions, and kept still even when I saw her hand steal towards this
possible weapon, though I kept my own on the bell-rope which fortunately
hung at my side. She looked quite capable of wounding herself with the
knife, but after balancing it a moment in her hand, she laid it down
again and turned with a low moan to the wall. She will not attempt death
till she has accomplished what is in her mind.
"Friday.
"All is right in the next room; that is, the young lady is up; but there
is another change in her appearance since last night. She has grown
contemptuous of herself and indulges less in brooding. But her
impatience at the slow passage of time continues, and her interest in
the box is even greater than before. She does not open it, however, only
looks at it and lays her trembling hand now and then on the cover.
"Saturday.
"A blank day. Party dull and very quiet. Her eyes begin to look like
ghastly hollows in her pale face. She talks to herself continually, but
in a low mechanical way exceedingly wearing to the listener, especially
as no word can be distinguished. Tried to see her in her own room
to-day, but she would not admit me.
"Sunday.
"I have noticed from the first a Bible lying on one end of her
mantel-shelf. To-day she noticed it also, and impulsively reached out
her hand to take it down. But at the first word she read she gave a low
cry and hastily closed the book and put it back. Later, however, she
took it again and read several chapters. The result was a softening in
her manner, but she went to bed as flushed and determined as ever.
"Monday.
"She has walked the floor all day. She has seen no one, and seems
scarcely able to contain her impatience. She cannot stand this long.
"Tuesday.
"My surprises began in the morning. As soon as her room had been put in
order, Miss O. locked the door and began to open her bundles. First she
unrolled a pair of white silk stockings, which she carefully, but
without any show of interest, laid on the bed; then she opened a package
containing gloves. They were white also, and evidently of the finest
quality. Then a lace handkerchief was brought to light, slippers, an
evening fan, and a pair of fancy pins, and lastly she opened the
mysterious box and took out a dress so rich in quality and of such
simple elegance, it almost took my breath away. It was white, and made
of the heaviest satin, and it looked as much out of place in that shabby
room as its owner did in the moments of exaltation of which I have
spoken.
"Though her face was flushed when she lifted out the gown, it became
pale again when she saw it lying across her bed. Indeed, a look of
passionate abhorrence characterized her features as she contemplated it,
and her hands went up before her eyes and she reeled back uttering the
first words I have been able to distinguish since I have been on duty.
They were violent in character, and seemed to tear their way through her
lips almost without her volition. 'It is hate I feel, nothing but hate.
Ah, if it were only duty that animated me!'
"Later she grew calmer, and covering up the whole paraphernalia with a
stray sheet she had evidently laid by for the purpose, she sent for Mrs.
Desberger. When that lady came in she met her with a wan but by no means
dubious smile, and ignoring with quiet dignity the very evident
curiosity with which that good woman surveyed the bed, she said
appealingly:
"'You have been so kind to me, Mrs. Desberger, that I am going to tell
you a secret. Will it continue to remain a secret, or shall I see it in
the faces of all my fellow-boarders to-morrow?' You can imagine Mrs.
Desberger's reply, also the manner in which it was delivered, but not
Miss Oliver's secret. She uttered it in these words: 'I am going out
to-night, Mrs. Desberger. I am going into great society. I am going to
attend Miss Althorpe's wedding.' Then, as the good woman stammered out
some words of surprise and pleasure, she went on to say: 'I do not want
any one to know it, and I would be so glad if I could slip out of the
house without any one seeing me. I shall need a carriage, but you will
get one for me, will you not, and let me know the moment it comes. I am
shy of what folks say, and besides, as you know, I am neither happy nor
well, if I do go to weddings, and have new dresses, and----' She nearly
broke down but collected herself with wonderful promptitude, and with a
coaxing look that made her almost ghastly, so much it seemed out of
accord with her strained and unnatural manner, she raised a corner of
the sheet, saying, 'I will show you my gown, if you will promise to help
me quietly out of the house,' which, of course, produced the desired
effect upon Mrs. Desberger, that woman's greatest weakness being her
love of dress.
"So from that hour I knew what to expect, and after sending
precautionary advices to Police Headquarters, I set myself to watch her
prepare for the evening. I saw her arrange her hair and put on her
elegant gown, and was as much startled by the result as if I had not had
the least premonition that she only needed rich clothes to look both
beautiful and distinguished. The square parcel she had once hidden under
her pillow was brought out and laid on the bed, and when Mrs.
Desberger's low knock announced the arrival of the carriage, she caught
it up and hid it under the cloak she hastily threw about her. Mrs.
Desberger came in and put out the light, but before the room sank into
darkness I caught one glimpse of Miss Oliver's face. Its expression was
terrible beyond anything I had ever seen on any human countenance."
XL.
AS THE CLOCK STRUCK.
I do not attend weddings in general, but great as my suspense was in
reference to Miss Oliver, I felt that I could not miss seeing Miss
Althorpe married.
I had ordered a new dress for the occasion, and was in the best of
spirits as I rode to the church in which the ceremony was to be
performed. The excitement of a great social occasion was for once not
disagreeable to me, nor did I mind the crowd, though it pushed me about
rather uncomfortably till an usher came to my assistance and seated me
in a pew, which I was happy to see commanded a fine view of the chancel.
I was early, but then I always am early, and having ample opportunity
for observation, I noted every fine detail of ornamentation with
approval, Miss Althorpe's taste being of that fine order which always
falls short of ostentation. Her friends are in very many instances my
friends, and it was no small part of my pleasure to note their
well-known faces among the crowd of those that were strange to me. That
the scene was brilliant, and that silks, satins, and diamonds abounded,
goes without saying.
At last the church was full, and the hush which usually precedes the
coming of the bride was settling over the whole assemblage, when I
suddenly observed, in the person of a respectable-looking gentleman
seated in a side pew, the form and features of Mr. Gryce, the detective.
This was a shock to me, yet what was there in his presence there to
alarm me? Might not Miss Althorpe have accorded him this pleasure out of
the pure goodness of her heart? I did not look at anybody else, however,
after once my eyes fell upon him, but continued to watch his expression,
which was non-commital, though a little anxious for one engaged in a
purely social function.
The entrance of the clergyman and the sudden peal of the organ in the
well-known wedding march recalled my attention to the occasion itself,
and as at that moment the bridegroom stepped from the vestry to await
his bride at the altar, I was absorbed by his fine appearance and the
air of mingled pride and happiness with which he watched the stately
approach of the bridal procession.
But suddenly there was a stir through the whole glittering assemblage,
and the clergyman made a move and the bridegroom gave a start, and the
sound, slight as it was, of moving feet grew still, and I saw advancing
from the door on the opposite side of the altar a second bride, clad in
white and surrounded by a long veil which completely hid her face. A
second bride! and the first was half-way up the aisle, and only one
bridegroom stood ready!
The clergyman, who seemed to have as little command of his faculties as
the rest of us, tried to speak; but the approaching woman, upon whom
every regard was fixed, forestalled him by an authoritative gesture.
Advancing towards the chancel, she took her place on the spot reserved
for Miss Althorpe.
Silence had filled the church up to this moment; but at this audacious
move, a solitary wailing cry of mingled astonishment and despair went up
behind us; but before any of us could turn, and while my own heart stood
still, for I thought I recognized this veiled figure, the woman at the
altar raised her hand and pointed towards the bridegroom.
"Why does he hesitate?" she cried. "Does he not recognize the only woman
with whom he dare face God and man at the altar? Because I am already
his wedded wife, and have been so for five long years, does that make my
wearing of this veil amiss when he a husband, unreleased by the law,
dares enter this sacred place with the hope and expectation of a
bridegroom?"
It was Ruth Oliver who spoke. I recognized her voice as I had recognized
her apparel; but the emotions aroused in me by her presence and the
almost incredible claims she advanced were lost in the horror inspired
by the man she thus vehemently accused. No lost spirit from the pit
could have shown a more hideous commingling of the most terrible
passions known to man than he did in the face of this terrible
arraignment; and if Ella Althorpe, cowering in her shame and misery
half-way up the aisle, saw him in all his depravity at that instant as I
did, nothing could have saved her long-cherished love from immediate
death.
Yet he tried to speak.
"It is false!" he cried; "all false! The woman I once called wife is
dead."
"Dead, Olive Randolph? Murderer!" she exclaimed. "The blow struck in the
dark found another victim!" And pulling the veil from her face, Ruth
Oliver advanced to his side and laid her trembling hand with a firm and
decisive movement on his arm.
Was it her words, her touch, or the sound of the clock striking eight in
the great tower over our heads, which so totally overwhelmed him? As the
last stroke of the hour which was to have seen him united with Miss
Althorpe died out in the awed spaces above him, he gave a cry such as I
am sure never resounded between those sacred walls before, and sank in a
heap on the spot where but a few minutes previous he had lifted his head
in all the glow and pride of a prospective bridegroom.
XLI.
SECRET HISTORY.
It was hours before I found myself able to realize that the scene I had
just witnessed had a deeper and much more dreadful significance than
appeared to the general eye, and that Ruth Oliver, in her desperate
interruption of these treacherous nuptials, had not only made good her
prior claim to Randolph Stone as her husband, but had pointed him out to
all the world as the villainous author of that crime which for so long a
time had occupied my own and the public's attention.
Thinking that you may find the same difficulty in grasping this terrible
fact, and being anxious to save you from the suspense under which I
myself labored for so many hours, I here subjoin a written statement
made by this woman some weeks later, in which the whole mystery is
explained. It is signed Olive Randolph; the name to which she evidently
feels herself best entitled.
* * * * *
"The man known in New York City as Randolph Stone was first seen by me
in Michigan five years ago. His name then was John Randolph, and how he
has since come to add to this the further appellation of Stone, I must
leave to himself to explain.
"I was born in Michigan myself, and till my eighteenth year I lived
with my father, who was a widower without any other child, in a little
low cottage amid the sand mounds that border the eastern side of the
lake.
"I was not pretty, but every man who passed me on the beach or in the
streets of the little town where we went to market and to church,
stopped to look at me, and this I noticed, and from this perhaps my
unhappiness arose.
"For before I was old enough to know the difference between poverty and
riches, I began to lose all interest in my simple home duties, and to
cast longing looks at the great school building where girls like myself
learned to speak like ladies and play the piano. Yet these ambitious
promptings might have come to nothing if I had never met _him_. I might
have settled down in my own sphere and lived a useful if unsatisfied
life like my mother and my mother's mother before her.
"But fate had reserved me for wretchedness, and one day just as I was on
the verge of my eighteenth year, I saw John Randolph.
"I was coming out of church when our eyes first met, and I noticed after
the first shock my simple heart received from his handsome face and
elegant appearance, that he was surveying me with that strange look of
admiration I had seen before on so many faces; and the joy this gave me,
and the certainty which came with it of my seeing him again, made that
moment quite unlike any other in my whole life, and was the beginning of
that passion which has undone me, ruined him, and brought death and
sorrow to many others of more worth than either of us.
"He was not a resident of the town, but a passing visitor; and his
intention had been, as he has since told me, to leave the place on the
following day. But the dart which had pierced my breast had not glanced
entirely aside from his, and he remained, as he declared, to see what
there was in this little country-girl's face to make it so
unforgettable. We met first on the beach and afterwards under the strip
of pines which separate our cottage from the sand mounds, and though I
have no reason to believe he came to these interviews with any honest
purpose or deep sincerity of feeling, it is certain he exerted all his
powers to make them memorable to me, and that, in doing so, he awoke
some of the fire in his own breast which he took such wicked pleasure in
arousing in mine.
"In fact he soon showed that this was so, for I could take no step from
the house without encountering him; and the one indelible impression
remaining to me from those days is the expression his face wore as, one
sunny afternoon, he laid my hand on his arm and drew me away to have a
look at the lake booming on the beach below us. There was no love in it
as I understand love now, but the passion which informed it almost
amounted to intoxication, and if such a passion can be understood
between a man already cultivated and a girl who hardly knew how to read,
it may, in a measure, account for what followed.