One of My Sons

<h2><SPAN name="XI" id="XI"></SPAN>XI</h2> <h2>SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT</h2> <div class="figleft1"><ANTIMG src="images/image_f1.jpg" alt="F" width-obs="50" height-obs="50" /></div> <p>atality!" exclaimed Alfred. And, raising his head, he strode impetuously towards Miss Meredith. "You have enjoined a confession of guilt and forbidden us to assert our innocence," he cried. "But I shall assert mine now and always, whatever happens and whoever suffers. I should not be worthy of the happiness I aim at, if I did not declare my guiltlessness in the face of facts which seem to militate against me."</p> <p>"I believe you&mdash;" she began, her hand trembling towards his. But the confiding impulse was stayed&mdash;by what thought? by what dread? and her hand fell and her lips closed before she had completed the sentence.</p> <p>"I am innocent," he repeated, drawing himself up in proud assertion, nobly borne out by the clear regard of the eye which now turned alternately on George and Leighton, who were standing upon either side of him.</p> <p>"What is the use of repeating a phrase you cannot back up with proof?" called out George, who was still gnawing his own special grievance. "I am as innocent as you are, but I scorn to take advantage of each and every opportunity to assert it."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</SPAN></span></p> <p>Leighton neither spoke nor moved. The melancholy in which he was now completely lost repelled all attempt to break it. Nor did this expression of complete wretchedness alter during the hubbub that followed. When it did&mdash;but I must make clear the circumstances of this change. I was engaged in making my adieux to Miss Meredith, when Sweetwater, after a marked effort to meet my eye, motioned me to join him in the doorway of the den where Mr. Gillespie's body still lay. Not enjoying the summons, yet feeling it impossible to slight them, I ventured, for the last time, or so I hoped, down the hall.</p> <p>The young detective was looking into the room which had already played so conspicuous a part in the events of the night, and as I drew up beside him, I perceived that his eyes were fixed not upon the out-stretched figure of its late occupant, but on the face and form of Leighton Gillespie, who was bending above it.</p> <p>For all the humiliation I felt at thus sharing the professional surveillance entered into by this able young detective, I could not resist following his glance, which seemed to find something remarkable in the attitude or expression of the man before me.</p> <p>The result was a similar interest on my part and a score of new surmises. The melancholy which up till now had been the predominating characteristic of this inscrutable face had yielded to what could not be called a smile and yet was strangely like one; and this smile or shadow of a smile, had in it just that tinge of sarcasm which made it the one look of all others least to be expected from a son who in common<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</SPAN></span> with his brothers laboured under a suspicion of having been the direct cause of his father's death.</p> <p>With the memory of it fixed indelibly in my mind, I moved away, and in another moment was quit of the house in which I had spent four hours of extraordinary suspense and exciting adventure. As I passed down the stoop, I met a young man coming up. He was the first of the army of reporters destined to besiege that house before daybreak.</p> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</SPAN></span></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />