Back Aa

Mystery of the Hidden Room

Close

<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> <h3>ARTHUR TRENTON</h3> Discouraged I returned to my car and as I drove across the Square it suddenly occurred to me that it was somewhere in this vicinity that the evening paper had stated that Cora Manning lodged. Her name carried me back to the inquest and the coroner's attempts to learn the girl's identity. It seemed strange now that I thought of it dispassionately, that of all the persons present in the study not one had any idea who she was. I did not for a moment credit the statement of the reporter who claimed that Darwin had put down the first name that had occurred to him merely to annoy Ruth. Men as a rule do not leave their fortunes on impulse to the first person they happen to think of, and I was pretty certain that Philip Darwin was no exception to this rule. If therefore the uncle deemed her worthy to become his chief legatee, was it not more than likely that the nephew was also acquainted with the girl? I recalled the fact that Lee himself, in view of Ruth's statement, was Darwin's real heir, yet he had not seemed to take it amiss that his uncle intended to disinherit him, and I also recollected his peculiar actions as he denied all knowledge of Cora Manning, and my own belief at the time that he knew the girl well. Now I was convinced of the fact and acting on the impulse I headed the car in the direction of the Yale Club, determined to see Lee Darwin and learn the truth from him. When I arrived at my destination, I eagerly ascended the steps and entered the club; for though not a member myself I foresaw no difficulty in the way of securing an interview. To my chagrin the steward to whom I confided my errand told me that Lee Darwin had gone South the afternoon of the eighth, ostensibly on business, nor as far as I could discover had he left any address behind. That he should leave the city the day after the murder without waiting to attend his uncle's funeral, which was scheduled for the morrow, seemed to me the height of disrespect. I began to wonder if Lee Darwin had had a very urgent reason for leaving town as soon as possible. He had sensed that his uncle was dead when he saw the coroner. Was it because he was the murderer? If so, why had he been foolhardy enough to return to the house, and how in the name of goodness had he vanished from the study after killing his man in the dark! Whereupon I gave it up in disgust and went home. Jenkins had waited up for me and had evidently been listening for my return, for hardly had I inserted the key in the lock when he opened the door. "There's a gentleman waiting to see you, sir. He is in the library," he said in a low tone, as he helped me off with my overcoat. "He refused to give his name, sir." "Very well, Jenkins." I started down the hall when I heard him again at my elbow. "Pardon my curiosity, sir," he whispered eagerly, "but did you see Mr. McKelvie, sir?" "No. He is unfortunately away and won't be home for a week," I said bitterly, realizing for the first time how much I had unconsciously counted upon this man's aid. "Never mind, sir. The trial is two months away and in seven weeks Mr. McKelvie can solve anything, sir." "Thank you for your encouragement at any rate," I answered, touched by his desire to console me. "It's the truth, sir," he replied simply. "I wish I could think so," was my comment, but I did not speak it aloud. Not for anything would I have hurt his feelings by displaying the doubts which had descended upon me again as to the ability of this man he so evidently worshipped. Instead I nodded agreement and stepped into the library. "Mr. Trenton!" Ruth's father was the last person I had expected to see, for I still held him responsible for all my misfortunes and I believe he was aware of the state of my feelings in the matter, since he had refused to give Jenkins his name, fearing that I might beg to be excused from seeing him. But he had taken me unawares and there was no retreat after my first exclamation. "Carlton, have they really dared to commit Ruth to jail?" he asked in a voice that trembled with anger and emotion. I nodded dumbly, and abruptly he sat down and hid his face in his hands, then as abruptly he rose and fell to pacing the room in an agitated manner. Apathetically I watched him. I too had had my siege of walking the floor. It was only fair that he should have his turn. That he was suffering as I had suffered I divined, but it had no effect upon me beyond rousing a dull wonder and perhaps anger, that he should look no older than when I saw him last, six months ago. But, no, I was wrong. He was still the same spare man with a magnificent head of snow-white hair above a massive brow and a pair of gray eyes, deep-set and penetrating, but sorrow and pain had left their trace, for so I read the meaning of the deep lines that had graven themselves around his mobile mouth and sensitive nostrils. "Has counsel been appointed to defend her?" Mr. Trenton spoke so low and his voice was so charged with emotion as he sank wearily into my big chair, that his words made no impression on my brain and he was forced to repeat them before I could comprehend sufficiently to answer in the affirmative. "Mr. Vaughn will arrange for her defense," I added. "You will be permitted to testify in her behalf?" he inquired. "No, I'm the chief witness against her," I answered sadly. "What!" He was absolutely dumbfounded. "Haven't you read the papers?" I asked him. He shook his head. "I have been ill for days. To-day the doctor told me I could go out. I overheard my hostess asking her husband if he thought it would hurt me to tell me about Ruth. I at once demanded an explanation and when I had been told that Ruth was in jail charged with the murder of her husband, I waited to hear no more but took the train and came straight to you. I naturally supposed—that is, of course—knowing your love for her I assumed you would do your best to free her by—by taking her side," he said brokenly. I sighed. Once more the miserable details had to be recounted and then I laughed harshly. Mr. Trenton looked at me as though he thought that I must have taken leave of my senses. For the moment I verily think I had, for the thought came all unbidden that I was another Ancient Mariner relating my tale to all who crossed my path, only I could not remember what crime I had committed that I should be punished in so terrible a manner. "Do you suppose it could have been in a former reincarnation?" I asked him in all seriousness. "For heaven's sake, man, brace up!" cried Mr. Trenton alarmed. "You can't afford to go to pieces now!" I passed my hand wearily across my brow. "I—I guess I'm pretty nearly all in," I mumbled, sinking into a chair. Ruth's father looked across at me compassionately. "Poor boy," he said gently. "I won't worry you for your story to-night." "Have you any objections to my remaining here with you?" he continued presently, as I preserved an unbroken silence. "I—I can't bear to return—to that crime-haunted house," he added with a shudder. "Certainly. Glad to have you. I'll ring for Jenkins," I murmured vaguely, trying to rise. But my legs refused to support me and my head fell back heavily against the cushions. When next I opened my eyes I was in my bed and Jenkins was moving softly about the room. "What time is it, Jenkins?" I asked, sitting up. "Twelve-thirty, sir," responded Jenkins, pulling aside the curtains to let in the light of day. "Have I been asleep all that time?" I inquired aghast. "You were very tired, sir. You hardly slept the night before," he apologized for me. "Mr. Trenton is waiting luncheon for you, sir. He wants to know how you are feeling, sir," he continued presently. The events of the previous evening flocked into my mind, and I felt the blood surge into my cheeks. What a chicken-hearted fellow her father must have thought me! "Tell Mr. Trenton I'll join him in the library in half an hour," I said decisively. "Very well, sir." It was more than thirty minutes before I made my appearance, but I had myself well in hand now and after luncheon, at which we spoke only of common-places, I told him that I was ready to give him the details of the case. Immovably he sat with his head bowed upon his hands while I related the facts, nor did he interrupt by word or gesture at any time during the recital. When I had finished he raised his head, and I was startled by the old and haggard look upon his face. He had aged ten years in as many minutes. "The sins of the father," he said, hoarsely. "Carlton, it's all my fault that Ruth has killed that wretch!" <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2