"Who told you that?--How did you find that out?" was frequently asked.
And Lyon would laugh and pass it off as a joke, or if pressed, would probably answer, "Why, I don't know; that's what I should do, or feel, or think, if I were in his place.--I got that impression about him, that's all." But the point was that the impressions he received were so apt to be psychologically correct that it seemed almost uncanny. It was something like clairvoyance10.
As he turned away from the inquest to carry out the mission that had so unexpectedly been entrusted11 to him, he felt perfectly12 convinced, in his own mind, of Lawrence's innocence13.
In spite of the quarrel in the morning with its proof of Lawrence's temper and Fullerton's self-control, in spite of the damning fact that Lawrence's cane14, broken and hidden, would appear to be the instrument with which the fatal blow was struck, in spite of the curious fact that Lawrence had held his peace when he must have recognized the dead man, Lyon found himself inwardly committed to the faith that Lawrence was not directly involved. He faced and set aside as simply unexplained the fact of Lawrence's presence in the neighborhood. By Donohue's testimony15, Lawrence was going in the direction of the tragedy about half an hour before the body was discovered. By Lyon's own knowledge, Lawrence must have been behind him on Hemlock16 Avenue as he came down that block, else how had he, too, seen the running girl? In other words, he had spent half an hour loitering on the street of a winter night within a compass of two blocks. Of course the mystery involved the girl, for whose good name he was so deeply concerned.
How she was involved he could not even hazard a guess--until he should have seen her. Did Lawrence entertain the thought that she was involved in the affair in any other way than as a possible witness? If she was merely a disinterested17 witness, would he have felt bound, at such cost, to keep her from being called upon? Lyon felt that was a forced explanation. No, Lawrence must either know or believe that the girl was vitally connected with the murder. Nothing else would explain his anxiety on her behalf. Now, who was the girl? It was luck and great luck that he had so good a justification18 for calling, as otherwise he would have been forced to invent an occasion. It was beyond all reason to expect him to relinquish19 the pursuit of such a clue.
He made his way at once to the house where he had seen Lawrence call. His ring was answered by an elderly servant, slow and stiff in her movements. Lyon recalled with a smile his fancy that the running girl might possibly be the maid, hurrying to conceal20 a tardy21 return to the house. This woman could not run for a fire.
"Is Miss Wolcott at home?" he asked.
The woman looked dubious22 and discouraging. "I'll see," she said.
"Please tell her that I will detain her only a moment, but that I have a very important message for her," Lyon said, giving the girl his card and quietly forcing his way past her into the reception room.
The old servant went slowly up-stairs, and Lyon took a swift survey of the room in which he was left, striving to guess the character of the owners. Books, pictures, flowers, all betokened23 refined and gentle ways of living. Unpretentious as it was, this was evidently the home of cultured people.
A slow step was heard in the hall, and an old man came to the door of the drawing room and looked in at Lyon with a mingling24 of mild dignity and child-like friendliness25 that was peculiarly attractive.
"I thought I heard some one come in," he said, with obvious pleasure at finding his guess right. "Did you come to see my granddaughter?"
"I have sent up my card to Miss Wolcott," Lyon answered.
"She is my granddaughter. Didn't you know?" the old gentleman asked, in surprise. "I am Aaron Wolcott, you know. Maybe you are a stranger in Wayscott."
"Yes, I am a good deal of a stranger yet."
"What is your name, may I ask?"
"Percy Lyon."
The old gentleman took a chair opposite and regarded him with cheerful interest. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Lyon. My granddaughter will be down soon. Eliza, our old servant, is slow because she has rheumatism27. She's getting old,--but that isn't a crime, is it? I'll be getting old some time myself, I suppose. But I've got all my faculties28 yet, thank Heaven."
"Have you lived in this house long?" Lyon asked.
"I built this house twenty-five years ago for my son,--Edith's father, you know. There have been many changes, many changes. He died when he was thirty, and his young wife followed him and left the baby Edith and me alone together. There's something wrong when young people die and old people are left. We should not outlive our children."
"Do you mean that you live here entirely29 alone with your granddaughter?" asked Lyon, quickly. This was significant.
"Except for Eliza. Eliza is a good servant. Edith isn't much of a housekeeper30. She doesn't care for anything but her music. But she's a good girl, Edith is."
"Did you wish to see me?" a cool, low voice asked at the door.
Lyon rose to his feet and bowed. "If you are Miss Wolcott, I have a message for you," he said, and by a pause he conveyed to her the idea that the message was for her alone.
Miss Wolcott regarded him for a moment with an observant scrutiny31 which she made no attempt to disguise, and then she turned to her grandfather.
"It is time for your walk, Dandy," she said. She got him his overcoat, hat, and stick from the hall, and herself buttoned his coat up to his throat.
"You see how she spoils me," Mr. Wolcott said, with evident pride in his voice. "I'm old enough to look out for myself."
Edith did not speak. In grave silence she gave him his gloves, and watched him put them on while Lyon as intently watched her. She was a tall girl of perhaps twenty-five, with eyes of midnight blackness, broad black eyebrows32 that drooped33 in straight heavy lines toward her temples, and black hair that was drawn34 in smooth, broad bands at the side of her head to repeat the drooping35 line of her brows. Her mouth drooped too, in lines too firm to be called pensive36, too proud to be sad. Altogether it was a face of mystery,--a face not easily read, but not the less powerful in its attraction. Lyon had a swift comprehension of Lawrence's feeling.
If this woman was in any way connected with the murder, the matter was serious as well as delicate. Lyon's pulses began to tingle37 as a hunter's do when he sees a mysterious "track" which he does not understand.
She let her grandfather out at the front door, and then came back to the room where Lyon was waiting. Calmly seating herself, she bent38 an inquiring and unsmiling look upon him. It struck him that she had shown nothing of her grandfather's tendency to unnecessary words.
"I have come at the request of Mr. Lawrence, who wished me to bring you a message," Lyon said.
There was something like a flash of light in her shadowy eyes, but whether it meant eagerness or anger, love or hate, Lyon could not say. She bent that same intent, unsmiling regard upon him, with only a deepening of its intentness, as though waiting for his next word with held breath.
"Mr. Lawrence considered it important that I should see you personally and at once, since he could not come himself to explain his reasons for what may sound like an extraordinary request," he went on deliberately39.
She moved restlessly. "I have not seen Mr. Lawrence since--"
Lyon interrupted. "Pardon me, may I give you the message before you say anything more? Mr. Lawrence has been arrested on the charge of killing40 Warren Fullerton--"
"Oh, heavens, has it come to that?" the girl gasped41, with horror on her face.
Lyon raised a warning hand. "And his urgent request to you is that you refrain from giving any information which, you may possess in regard to the matter to any one. That of course includes myself."
Miss Wolcott was holding fast to the arms of the chair and her pallor seemed to have deepened visibly, but she did not lose her self-control for a moment.
Lyon would have given much to be able to tell whether the feeling which she obviously held back from expression was fear or concern or contempt.
"You of course saw the account of the murder in the morning papers," he continued, deeming it advisable to put her in possession of the situation as fully42 as possible. "The inquest was held today, and Mr. Lawrence has been taken into custody,--merely on suspicion, of course. It is known that he had had a quarrel with Mr. Fullerton, and his broken cane was found in the neighborhood."
Miss Wolcott's intense eyes seemed trying to drag out his words faster than he could utter them, but she asked no questions.
"This means that he will be held for the action of the Grand Jury, which will meet in about two weeks. Of course he will have an attorney to present his case. You are not to think that his arrest necessarily means anything worse than the necessity of making his innocence as obvious to the world at large as it is now to his friends. But in the meantime his great and immediate43 anxiety was that you should be warned to say nothing about the whole matter. Frankly44, Miss Wolcott, I don't know whether your silence is to protect him or to protect some one else, but I do know that he was profoundly in earnest in hoping that you would preserve that silence unbroken as long as possible."
"What do you mean by as long as possible?" she asked, slowly.
"If you should be summoned as a witness at the trial, you will of course have to tell everything within your knowledge connected with the affair."
She frowned thoughtfully. "Am I likely to be summoned as a witness?" she asked.
"That will depend on whether the prosecuting45 attorney or Mr. Lawrence's attorney gets an idea that you have any information in your possession which will help his side of the case."
She sat very still, with downcast eyes, for a long moment. Lyon made a movement of rising, and she checked him.
"One moment. When the trial comes off, will there be any way of my knowing how it is going?"
"It will be fully reported in the papers. You could be present in the court room if you think it advisable."
"I will think of it," she said quietly. Then her splendid self-control wavered for a moment. "If I should feel that I had to talk to some one, to understand things,--would you--might I--"
"May I come occasionally to tell you of any new developments?" Lyon asked, simply.
"Thank you. It will be kind of you."
"I shall be very glad to keep you informed." And then he added deliberately, intending that however much she might veil her own sympathies there should be no doubt in her mind as to his position, "I am a friend of Mr. Lawrence's. That is why he entrusted me with this word for you."
She bowed, somewhat distantly, without speaking, and Lyon left.
When he got outside, he allowed himself to indulge in a moment of puzzled and half-reluctant admiration46. What superb nerve! Her connection with this mysterious case was evidently a close and vital one, yet she had held herself so well in hand that it was impossible for him to say now, after this momentous47 interview, whether her sympathies were with Lawrence or not. She had most completely understood and heeded48 his injunction to keep silence, at any rate. Was the injunction needed, in the face of such self-control? What was it that lay behind that shield? Lyon felt as though his hands were being bound by invisible bands, and he had a frantic49 desire to break his way clear and force a way to an understanding of things. Turning a corner he came upon the old grandfather taking his leisurely51 constitutional in the sun, and instantly he realized that Providence52 had placed in his hands the means of removing some of his assorted53 varieties of ignorance,--if it is Providence who helps a man when he is trying to peer into his neighbor's business. There may be a difference in the point of view as to that. With a surreptitious glance at his watch, he fell into step beside Mr. Wolcott.
"Your quiet neighborhood has made itself rather notorious," he began, at a safe distance from his objective point. "I suppose you first learned of the murder through the papers this morning. Or did you hear the excitement last night?"
"I heard the grocer boy telling Eliza this morning," Mr. Wolcott answered. "I don't read the paper very much. My eyesight is all right,--my faculties are all as good as ever,--but they print the papers in such fine type nowadays, I don't care to read them."
"Well, Miss Wolcott would surely have read it and noticed about the murder."
"She wouldn't talk about it."
"Of course it is not a pleasant thing to talk about."
"That isn't all. You see, Edith was engaged to marry that Mr. Fullerton at one time."
"Really?" This was so startling a piece of information that Lyon stopped short in his surprise, trying to fit it into its place with the other things he knew or guessed. "Really!"
"Don't let on I told you," said the old gentleman, confidentially54. "Edith doesn't like to have me talk about her affairs. But that's the reason she is so strange to-day. Maybe you didn't notice, but she was very quiet all day."
"Do you think that she cared for him still?" demanded Lyon.
"Oh, no, no! That's all past. But it must have given her a queer feeling to have him killed so near her own door. No, she didn't care for him. If he had died in some other way, I think she would have been glad. I'm not sure she isn't glad as it is, though maybe she was a little scared to have her wish come true.--It is kind of awful to have something up there take you at your word."
"What makes you think that she would be glad?"
"Oh, I see things, if I am old. Edith doesn't think I notice, but I know more about things than she guesses. She said once that she wished he was dead.--I heard her."
"Really? How was that?"
"I had gone to sleep on the couch in the library,--not really asleep, of course, but I was lying down to rest my eyes for a moment,--and Edith didn't know I was there. I woke up and saw her standing50 by the window looking out, and she was so excited that she was talking aloud to herself. She threw up both hands, like this, and said aloud,--'I wish to heaven you were dead, dead, dead!' Then she ran out of the room like a whirlwind, and I got up and looked out of the window. Mr. Fullerton was standing on the sidewalk, looking up at the house. He touched his hat when he saw me, and smiled a nasty, sarcastic55 kind of a smile, and walked off."
"When was this?"
"Maybe two weeks ago."
"Did you ever speak of it to anyone?"
"Never, not a word. Not to anybody except Lawrence."
"Oh, you told Arthur Lawrence?"
"Yes, you see I like Lawrence, and I thought it was just as well to let him know that there wasn't anything between Edith and Fullerton any longer. I haven't forgotten about such things, even if I am getting to be an old man. You see, if Lawrence heard about that old engagement of Edith's it might make him hold off, so I just thought I'd let him know there wasn't anything to it now. It was all off."
"What did Mr. Lawrence say?"
"Not much. But he made me tell him again just what she said, and what she did. I guess he was glad to have the old man tell him, all right."
"You know Arthur Lawrence pretty well, don't you?" Lyon asked abruptly56.
The old gentleman chuckled57. "Oh yes, I don't have much chance to forget Mr. Lawrence. Of course it isn't me that he comes to see, but still he's very civil to the old grandfather! A deal more civil than Mr. Fullerton ever was, by the same token. Edith was well off with that old love before she was on with the new."
Lyon was certainly getting more than he had expected. There was not much mystery now about the significance of Fullerton's slur58 on Lawrence for following in his footsteps, or about Lawrence's resentment59. He was so absorbed in his own speculations60 on the subject that Mr. Wolcott had twice repeated a question before he heard it.
"Do you know if Mr. Lawrence is out of town?"
"No, he is here."
"He said Sunday he would bring me some new cigars the next time he came. I thought he might come last night, but he didn't. For that matter, Edith wasn't at home last night. Maybe he knew she wouldn't be. But she didn't tell me she was going to be out."
"Indeed?"
"No, she didn't. But I found it out. Even if my own eyes are not as young as they were, I can see things that are right under my nose. Edith said she had a headache and would have to go to her room instead of playing cribbage with me. So I had to play solitaire, and I don't like to play solitaire of an evening. When I was young the evening was always the time for society, and I'm not so old that I want to be poked61 off in a corner to play solitaire. So I went to her room about ten o'clock to see if her head was better. We could have had a game of cribbage yet. Well, she wasn't there. She had gone out without saying a word to me. And while I was looking around she came in by the side door and came up the back stairs. I asked her where in the world she had been at that time of the night, and she never answered,--just went in to her room and locked the door. Now, do you think that is a proper way for a young woman to treat her elders? When I was young, we didn't dare to treat our elders in that way."
"I am sure you didn't," said Lyon, soothingly62.
"And do you think it was proper for her to be out so late at night without saying anything to anyone in the house?"
"I am sure Miss Wolcott will be worried if you stay out so long," said Lyon, evasively. "She'll blame me for keeping you talking. Good-by. I am very glad to have met you. Some evening you must let me come and play a game of cribbage with you."
He turned to leave him, and then, with a sudden second thought, he came back. "Tell Miss Wolcott that I fell in with you, and that we had a pleasant chat," he said.
He had sufficient confidence in Miss Wolcott's discretion63 by this time to feel sure the message would set her to investigating the nature of the conversation, and possibly she would know how to sequestrate or suppress her garrulous64 relative until the peculiar26 circumstances of that evening should have faded out of his memory. The circumstances were so peculiar that Lyon could not help feeling it was fortunate that he, and not some police officer for instance, had received the old gentleman's confidences.
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1
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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10
clairvoyance
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| n.超人的洞察力 | |
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entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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13
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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hemlock
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| n.毒胡萝卜，铁杉 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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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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betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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42
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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43
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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45
prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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46
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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48
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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50
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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51
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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52
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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53
assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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54
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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55
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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56
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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57
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
slur
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| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
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59
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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62
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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64
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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