They were all standing1. Not one sat. And the room seemed filled with the six men in it, most of whom were tall. The crimson2 curtain, that Annabel Channing had mended, was drawn3 before the bookcase: on the table-cover lay pens and ink and paper, for Mr. Greatorex sometimes wrote at night in his own room. He and Judge Kene were near each other; the clergyman was almost within the shadow of the window curtain; Bede a little farther behind. On the opposite side of the table, telling his tale, with the light of the bright winter's day falling full upon him, illumining every turn of his face, and, so to say, every word he uttered, was George Winter. And, at right angles with the whole assemblage, his keen eyes and ears taking in every word and look in silence, stood the detective, Jonas Butterby.
Mr. Greatorex, in spite of his son Bede's protestations, had refused to sanction any steps for the release of Alletha Rye from custody4. As for Butterby, in that matter he seemed more inexorably hard than a granite5 stone. "Show us that the young woman is innocent before you talk about it," said they both with reason. And so George Winter was had in to relate what he knew; and Mr. Greatorex--not to speak of some of the rest--felt that his senses were temporarily struck out of him when he discovered that his efficient and trusted clerk, Brown, was the long-sought after and ill-reputed Godfrey Pitman.
With a brief summary of the circumstances which had led him, disguised, and under the false name of Pitman, to Mrs. Jones's house at Helstonleigh, George Winter passed on to the night of the tragedy, and to the events which had taken him back to the house after his departure from it in the afternoon. If ever Mr. Butterby's silent eyes wore an eager light, it was then; not the faintest turn of a look, not the smallest syllable6 was lost upon him.
"When I had been a week at Mrs. Jones's, I began to think it might be unsafe to remain longer," he said; "and I resolved to take my departure on the Monday. I let it transpire7 in the house that I was going to Birmingham by the five o'clock train. This was to put people off the scent8, for I did not mean to go by that train at all, but by a later one in an opposite direction--in fact, by the eight o'clock train for Oxford9: and I had thought to wait about, near the station, until that hour. At half-past four I said good day to Mrs. Jones, and went out: but I had not gone many yards from the door, when I saw one of the Birmingham police, who knew me personally. I had my disguises on, the spectacles and the false hair, but I feared he might recognize me in spite of them. I turned my back for some minutes, apparently10 looking into a shop window, and when the officer had disappeared, stole back to Mrs. Jones's again. The door was open, and I went upstairs without being seen, intending to wait until dusk."
"A moment if you please," interrupted Mr. Greatorex. "It would seem that this was about the time that Mr. Ollivera returned to Mrs. Jones's. Did you see him?"
"I did not, sir; I saw no one."
"Go on."
"I waited in my room at the top of the house, and when night set in, began to watch for an opportunity of getting away unseen by the household, and so avoid questionings as to what had brought me back. It seemed not too easy of accomplishment11: the servant girl was at the street door, and Alfred Jones (as I had learnt his name to be) came in and began to ascend12 the stairs. When half-way up, he turned back with some gentleman who came out of the drawing-room--whom I know now, but did not then, to be Mr. Bede Greatorex. Alfred Jones saw him to the front door, and then ran up again. I escaped to my room, and locked myself in. He went to his own, and soon I heard him go down and quit the house. In a few minutes I went out of my room again with my blue bag, ready for departure, and stood on the stairs to reconnoitre----"
"Can you explain the cause of those grease spots that we have heard of?" interrupted Bede Greatorex at this juncture13. And it might almost have seemed from the fluttering emotion of his tone, which could not be wholly suppressed, that he dreaded14 the revelation he knew must be coming, and put the question only to delay it.
"Yes, sir. While Alfred Jones was in his room, I dropped my silver pencil-case, and had to light a candle to seek it. I suppose that, in searching, I must have held the candle aside and let the drops of tallow fall on the carpet."
"Go on," again interposed Mr. Greatorex, impatiently. "You went out on the stairs with your bag. What next?"
The witness--if he may be termed such--passed his hand slowly over his forehead before answering. It appeared as though he were recalling the past.
"As I stood there, on the top of the first flight, the sound of voices in what seemed like angry dispute, came from the drawing-room. One in particular was raised in passionate15 fury; the other was less loud. I did not hear what was said; the door was shut----"
"Were they both men's voices?" interrupted Mr. Ollivera--and it was the first question he had put.
"Yes," came the answer; but it was given in a low tone, and with somewhat of hesitation16. "At least, I think so."
"Well."
"The next thing that I heard was the report of a pistol, followed by a cry of pain. Another cry succeeded to it in a different voice, a cry of horror; and then silence supervened."
"And you did not go in?" exclaimed Mr. Ollivera in agitation17, taking a step forward.
"No. I am aware it is what I ought to have done; and I have reproached myself later for not having done it; but I felt afraid to disclose to any one that I was yet in the house. It might have led to the discovery of who and what I was. Besides, I thought there was no great harm done; I declare it, upon my honour. I could still hear sounds within the room as of someone, or more, moving about, and I certainly heard one voice speaking low and softly. I thought I saw my opportunity for slipping away, and had crept down nearly to the drawing-room door, when it suddenly opened, very quietly, and a face looked out. Whoever it might be, I suppose the sight of me scared them, for they retreated, and the door was reclosed softly. It scared me also, sending me back upstairs; and I remained up until the same person (as I supposed) came out again, descended18 the stairs, and left the house. I got out myself then, gained the railway station by a circuitous19 route, and got safely away from Helstonleigh."
As the words died upon the ear, there ensued a pause of silence. The clergyman broke it. His mind seemed to be harping20 on one string.
"Mr. Brown, was that person a man or a woman?"
"Oh, it was a man," answered Mr. Brown, looking down at his waistcoat, and brushing a speck21 off it with an air of carelessness. But something in his demeanour at that moment struck two people in the room as being peculiar--Judge Kene and Mr. Butterby.
"Should you recognize him again?" continued the clergyman.
"I cannot say. Perhaps I might."
"And you can stand there, Mr. Brown and deliberately22 avow23 that you did not know a murder had been committed?" interposed the sternly condemning24 voice of Mr. Greatorex.
"On my sacred word of honour, I declare to you, sir, that no suspicion of it at the time occurred to me," answered the clerk, turning his eyes with fearless honesty on Mr. Greatorex. "When I got to learn what had really happened--which was not for some weeks--I wondered at myself. All I could suppose was, that the fear and apprehension25 I lay under on my own score, had rendered me callous26 to other impressions."
"Was it you who went in, close upon the departing heels of Mr. Bede Greatorex, and did this cruel thing?" asked Judge Kene, with quiet emphasis, as he gazed in the face of the narrator.
"No," as quietly, and certainly as calmly, came the answer. "I had no cause to injure Mr. Ollivera. I never saw him in my life. I am not sure that I knew there was a barrister of the name. I don't think I ever heard of him until after he was in the grave where he is now lying."
"But--you must have known that Mr. Ollivera was sojourning in Mrs. Jones's house at the same time that you were?
"I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas; I did not know that anyone was lodging27 there except myself. Miss Rye, whom I saw for a few minutes occasionally, never mentioned it, neither did the servant, and they were the only two inmates28 I conversed29 with. For all I knew, or thought, Mrs. Jones occupied the drawing-room herself. I once saw her sitting there, and the maid was carrying out the tea-tray. No," emphatically concluded the speaker, "I did not know Mr. Ollivera was in the house: and if I had known it, I should not have sought to harm him."
The words were simple enough; and they were true. Judge Kene, skilled in reading tones and looks, saw that much. The party felt at a non-plus: as far as Alletha Rye went, the taking her into custody appeared to have been a mistake.
"You will swear to this testimony30 of yours, Mr.--Winter?"
"When you please. The slight amount of facts--the sounds--that reached me in regard to what took place in Mr. Ollivera's room, I have related truthfully. Far from Miss Rye's having had aught to do with it, she was not even in the house at the time: I affirm it as before heaven."
"Who was the man?" asked Judge Kene--and Mr. Butterby, as he heard the question, gave a kind of derisive32 sniff33. "Come; tell us that, Mr. Winter."
"I cannot tell you," was George Winter's answer. "Whoever it was he went down the stairs quickly. I was looking over top balustrades then, and caught but a transient glimpse of him."
"But you saw his face beforehand?--when he looked out of the room?"
"I saw someone's face. Only for a minute. Had I known what was to come of it later, I might have noticed better."
"And this is all you have to tell us?" cried Henry William Ollivera in agitation.
"Indeed it is all. But it is sufficient to exonerate34 Miss Rye."
"And now, Bede, what do you know?" suddenly spoke35 Mr. Greatorex. "You have acknowledged to me that you suspected at the time it was not a case of suicide."
Bede Greatorex came forward. All eyes were turned upon him. That he was nerving himself to speak, and far more inwardly agitated36 than appeared on the surface, the two practised observers saw. Judge Kene looked at him critically and curiously37: there was something in the case altogether, and in Bede himself, that puzzled him.
"It is not much that I have to tell," began Bede, in answer to his father, as he put his hand heavily on the table, it might be for a support to rest on: and his brow seemed to take a pallid38 hue39, and the silver threads in his once beautiful hair were very conspicuous40 as he stood. "A circumstance caused me to suspect that it was not a case of suicide. In fact, that it was somewhat as Mr. Brown has described it to be--namely, that someone else caused the death."
A pause of perfect silence, It seemed to Bede that the very coals, cracking in the grate, sounded like thunder.
"What was the circumstance?" asked Mr. Greatorex, for no one else liked to interrupt. "Why did you not speak of it at the time?"
"I could not speak of it then: I cannot speak of it fully31 now. It was of a nature so--so--so----." Bede came to a full stop: was he getting too agitated to speak, or could he not find a word? "What I would say is," he continued, in a firm low tone, rallying his nerves, "that it was sufficient to show me the facts must have been very much as Mr. Brown now states them."
"Then you only think that, Bede?"
"It is more than thinking. By all my hopes of Heaven, declare that Alletha Rye had not, and could not have had, anything to do with John's death," he added with emotion. "Father, you may believe me: I do know so much."
"But why can you not disclose what it is you know?"
"Because the time has not come for it. William, you are looking at me with reproachful eyes: if I could tell you more I would. The secret--so much as I know of it--has lain on me with a leaden weight: I would only have been too glad to disburthen myself of it at first, had it been possible."
"And what rendered it impossible?" questioned the clergyman.
"That which renders it so now. I may not speak; if I might, I should be far more thankful than any of you who hear me."
"Is it a secret of trust reposed41 in you?"
Bede paused. "Well, yes; in a degree. If I were to speak of what I know, I do not think there is one present"--and Bede's glance ran rapidly over each individual face--"but would hush42 it within his own breast, as I have done."
"And you have a suspicion of who the traitor43 was?"
"A suspicion I may have. But for aught else--for elucidation44--you and I must be content alike to wait."
"Elucidation!" spoke the clergyman in something like derision. "It will not, I presume, ever be allowed to come."
"Yes, it will, William," answered Bede, quietly. "Time--events--heaven--all are working rapidly on for it. Alletha Rye is innocent; I could not affirm that truth to you more solemnly if I were dying. She must be set at liberty."
As it was only on the question of her guilt45 or innocence46 that the council had been called, it seemed that there was nothing more to do than to break it up. An uncomfortable sensation of doubt, dissatisfaction, and mystery, lay on all. The clergyman stalked away in haughty47 displeasure. Bede Greatorex, under cover of the crowd, slid his hand gratefully for a moment into that of George Winter, his sad eyes sending forth48 their thanks. Then he turned to the Judge.
"You can give the necessary authority for the release, Sir Thomas."
"Can I?" was the answer, as Sir Thomas looked at him. "I'll talk about it with Butterby. But I should like to have a private word first with Mr. Winter."
"Why! you do not doubt that she is innocent?"
"Oh dear no; I no longer doubt that. Winter," he added in a whisper, laying his hand on the clerk's shoulder to draw him outside, "whose face was it that you saw at the door of the room?"
"Tell him," said Bede suddenly, for he had followed them. "You will keep the secret, Kene, as I have kept it?"
"If it be as I suspect, I will," emphatically replied the Judge.
"Tell him," repeated Bede, as he walked away. "Tell him all that you know, Winter, from first to last."
It caused Mr. Greatorex and Butterby to be left alone together. The former, not much more pleased than William Ollivera, utterly49 puzzled, hurt at the want of confidence displayed by Bede in not trusting him, was in a downright ill-temper.
"What the devil is all this, Butterby?" demanded he. "What does it mean?"
Mr. Butterby, cool as a cucumber, let his eyelashes close for a moment over his non-betraying eyes, and then answered in meek50 simplicity51.
"Ah, that's just it, sir--what it means. Wait, says your son Mr. Bede; wait patiently till things has worked round a bit, till such time as I can speak out. And depend upon it, Mr. Greatorex, he has good cause to give the advice."
"But what can it be that he has to tell? And why should he wait at all to tell it?"
"Well, I suppose he'd like to be more certain of the party," answered Butterby, with a dubious52 cough. "Take a word of advice from me too, Mr. Greatorex, on this here score, if I may make bold to offer it--do wait. Don't force your son to disclose things afore they are ripe. It might be better for all parties."
Mr. Greatorex looked at him. "Who is it that you suspect?"
"Me!" exclaimed Butterby. "Me suspect! Why, what with one odd thought or another, I'd as lieve say it must have been the man in the moon, for all the clue we've got. It was not Miss Rye: there can't be two opinions about that. I told you, sir, I had my strong doubts when you ordered her to be apprehended53."
"At any rate, you said she confessed to having done it," sharply spoke Mr. Greatorex, vexed54 with everybody.
"Confound the foolish women! what would the best of 'em not confess to, to screen a sweetheart? Alletha Rye has been thinking Winter guilty all this while, and when it came to close quarters and there seemed a fear that he'd be taken up for it, she said what she did to save him. I see it all. I saw it afore Godfrey Pitman was half way through his tale: and matters that have staggered me in Miss Rye, are just as clear to read now as the printing in a big book. When she made that there display at the grave--which you've heard enough of, may be, Mr. Greatorex--she had not had her doubts turned on Godfrey Pitman; she'd thought he was safe away earlier in the afternoon: when she got to learn he had come back again in secret, and was in the house at the time, why then she jumped to the conclusion that he had done the murder. I remember."
Mr. Butterby was right. This was exactly how it had been. Alletha Rye had deemed George Winter guilty all along; on his side, he had only supposed she shunned55 him on account of the affair at Birmingham. There had been mutual56 misunderstanding; tacit, shrinking avoidance of all explanation; and not a single word of confidence to clear it all up. George Winter could not seek to be too explicit57 so long as the secret he was guarding had to be kept: if not for his own sake, for that of others, he was silent.
"As to what Bede's driving at, and who he suspects, I am in ignorance," resumed Mr. Greatorex. "I am not pleased with his conduct: he ought to let me know what he knows."
"Now, don't you blame him afore you hear his reasons, sir. He's sure to have 'em: and I say let him alone till he can take his own time for disclosing things." Which won't be of one while, was the detective's mental conclusion.
"About Miss Rye? Are you here, Butterby?"
The interruption came from Judge Kene. As he walked in, closing the door after him, they could but be struck with the aspect of his face. It was all over of a grey pallor; very much as though its owner had received some shock of terror. "What is the matter, Judge?" hastily asked Mr. Greatorex. "Are you ill?"
"Ill? No. Why do you ask? Look so!--Oh, I have been standing in a room without fire and grew rather cold there," carelessly replied the Judge.
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1
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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7
transpire
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| v.(使)蒸发，(使)排出 ；泄露，公开 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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circuitous
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| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
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harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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exonerate
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| v.免除责任，确定无罪 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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elucidation
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| n.说明，阐明 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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49
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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51
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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52
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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53
apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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54
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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55
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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