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twg_000000051400 | she had talked with Gifford. "Isn't it lucky? Mr. Gifford has picked up in the garden a brooch I lost some days ago. I did not dare to tell Dick, as it was his gift." Henshaw gave a casual glance at the ornament. "I congratulate you," he responded coolly. Then Gifford saw his eyes seek hers as he added: "Where | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051401 | was it found? Near the tower?" The covert malice of the insinuation was plain in the questioner's look, although the tone was casual enough. "No. On the lawn," Gifford replied quietly. IN THE CHURCHYARD Nothing more of importance happened that day at Wynford, and Gifford had no further opportunity of private talk with Edith Morriston. But it was evident to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051402 | him, and the knowledge gave him intense concern, that the girl went in fear of Gervase Henshaw. That he was intimidating her, and using his brother's death for that purpose, was beyond doubt, and the very fact that Edith Morriston was a woman of uncommon courage and self-control, one who in ordinary circumstances would be the last to give way | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051403 | to fear or submit to bullying, showed how serious the matter had become. Gifford on his part determined that this intolerable state of things must come to an end, and that in spite of the command laid upon him by the girl, he would now pit himself against her persecutor. He had given no actual promise, and even if he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051404 | had it would have been drawn from him in ignorance of certain means which he possessed of help in this crisis. And a significant circumstance which came to Gifford's knowledge a day or two after his interview with Edith Morriston in the garden of Wynford, was the cause of his beginning to take action without further delay. Late on the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051405 | next Sunday afternoon Gifford had gone for a country walk which he had arranged to bring him round in time for the evening service at the little village church of Wynford standing just outside the park boundary. His way took him by well-remembered field-paths which, although towards the end of his walk darkness had set in, he had no difficulty | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051406 | in tracing. The last field he crossed brought him to a by-road joining the highway which ran through Wynford, the junction being about a quarter of a mile from the church. As he neared the stile which admitted to the road he saw, on the other side of the hedge and showing just above it, the head of a man. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051407 | At the sound of his footsteps the man quickly turned, and, as for a moment the fitful moonlight caught his face, Gifford was sure he recognized Gervase Henshaw. But he took no notice and kept on his way to the stile, which he crossed and gained the road. As he did so he glanced back. A horse and trap was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051408 | waiting there with Henshaw in it. He was now bending down, probably with the object of concealing his identity, and had moved on a few paces farther down the road. Why was he waiting there? Gifford asked himself the obvious question with a decidedly uneasy feeling. Henshaw the Londoner, on a Sunday evening, waiting with a horse and trap in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051409 | an unfrequented lane, a road which ran nowhere but to a farm. What did it mean? Naturally Gifford's suspicions connected Edith Morriston with the circumstance, and yet he told himself the idea was monstrously improbable. It was more likely that Henshaw was bound upon some search with the police. His movements were and had been for some time mysterious enough. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051410 | Gifford's impulse as he turned into the high road was to stay there in concealment and watch for the upshot of Henshaw's presence. The suggestion did not, however, altogether commend itself to him. He disliked the idea of spying even upon such a man as Henshaw, whom he had good reason to suspect of playing a dastardly game. It was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051411 | probable, too, that Henshaw had recognized him and might be on the look-out; it would be intensely humiliating to be caught watching. So, turning the pros and cons over in his mind, Gifford walked slowly on in a state of irresolution till he came to a wicket-gate which admitted from the road to a path which ran through the churchyard. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051412 | There he stopped, debating with himself whether he should turn back and keep an eye on Henshaw or go on into the church where service was just beginning. It did seem absurd to imagine that Henshaw with his conveyance could be waiting there by appointment for a girl of the character and position of Edith Morriston. True, he had seen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051413 | them walking together in secret, which was strange enough, but that need not necessarily have been a planned meeting. Such an urgent curiosity had hold of him at the bare possibility of something wrong that he, temporizing with his scruples, was about to turn back to the lane, when he saw the figure of a woman coming towards him along | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051414 | the churchyard path. She was tall and so far as he could make out, muffled in a cloak and veil. His heart gave a leap, for although the woman's face and figure were indistinguishable the height and gait corresponded with those of Edith Morriston. As she came near the little gate where he stood she stopped dead, seemed to hesitate | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051415 | a moment, and then turned as though to go back. Determined to set his doubts at rest Gifford passed quickly through the gate and followed her at an overtaking pace. Evidently sensible of her pursuit, the woman quickened her steps and, as Gifford gained on her, turned quickly from the path, threading her way among the graves to escape him. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051416 | She had gone but a few steps when in her hurry she tripped over the mound of a small, unmarked grave and fell to the ground. Gifford ran to her and taking her arm assisted her to rise. "Miss Morriston!" he exclaimed, for he now was sure of her identity. "I hope you are not hurt," he added mechanically, his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051417 | mind full of a greater and more critical contingency. "Mr. Gifford!" she responded; but he was sure she had not recognized him then for the first time. "Oh, no, thank you; I am not in the least hurt. It was stupid of me to trip and fall like that. Are you going to church?" she added, evidently wishing to get | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051418 | away. "I was," he answered. "And you?" "I was too," she said, conquering her embarrassment, "but I have a headache, and prefer the fresh air. Don't let me keep you," she held out her hand. "Service has begun." He took her hand. "Miss Morriston," he said gravely, "don't think me very unmannerly, but I am not going to leave you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051419 | here." In the bright moonlight he could see her expression of rather haughty surprise. "I think you are unmannerly, Mr. Gifford," she retorted defiantly. "May I ask why you are not going to leave me here?" "Because," he answered with quiet decision, "Mr. Henshaw is waiting just there in Turner's Lane." "Is he?" The same defiant note; but there was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051420 | anxiety behind the cold pretence. "Yes. And pardon me, I have an idea he is waiting there for you." His firm tone and manner baffled equivocation. "What is it to you if he is?" she returned with a brave attempt to suggest cold displeasure. But her lip trembled and her voice was scarcely steady. "It is something to me," he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051421 | replied insistently, "because it means a great deal to you. This man is persecuting you. He is--" "Mr. Gifford!" she exclaimed. "You take--" He held up his hand. "Please let me finish, Miss Morriston. I can convince you that I am not taking too much upon myself. I am no fool and am not interfering without warrant. This man Henshaw | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051422 | has succeeded in persuading you that you are in his power. That is very far from being the case, and I can prove it." "I don't understand you, Mr. Gifford." The tone of cold annoyance was gone now. Relief and a vague hope seemed to be struggling with an almost overwhelming anxiety. "You will understand directly," he replied. "I have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051423 | more than a suspicion that this man is seeking to connect you with his brother's death and is making use of a certain half-knowledge he possesses to get a hold over you. Is that not so?" For a while she was silent, her breath coming quickly, as she hesitated how to meet the direct question. Gifford hated, yet somehow rejoiced, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051424 | to see this proud, cold-mannered girl brought to this pass, and the reason he rejoiced lay in the knowledge that he could help her out of it. At length she spoke. "Mr. Gifford, I trust you as a man of honour. Your conjecture is right, but unhappily there is no help for it." "There is help," he declared reassuringly. "Can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051425 | this man prove that you are in any way guilty of his brother's death?" The girl gave a shiver. "He can by implication," she admitted in a low voice. "Can he prove it?" "Not actually, perhaps. But far enough to disgrace me and mine for ever," she said with a sob. "And with that idea he terrorizes you?" The question | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051426 | was put with quiet sternness. "Yes, yes; but I cannot help it! I cannot bear it. Oh, let me go." She seemed now in an agony of fear. Gifford laid his hand on her as she sought to move away towards the gate and the waiting enemy. "Miss Morriston," he said with decision, "you must not go; you must have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051427 | no more communication with this man Henshaw. He can prove nothing against you, while I can prove everything in your favour." Her look of fear and impatience changed at the last words to one of startled incredulity. "You, Mr. Gifford? What do you mean?" "Exactly what I say," he returned decisively, "I can prove, if need be, that you had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051428 | no hand in that cowardly ruffian's death." "You? How?" the girl gasped, staring at him with dilated eyes. "I will convince you," he answered quietly. "When I told you the other day that I had found your brooch on the lawn I said, for an obvious reason, what was not true. I found it in the room where Clement Henshaw | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051429 | died." "You did," the girl gasped almost in terror. "When?" "A few minutes after his death," Gifford replied calmly. "I happened to be present in the room when he came by his fatal wound." AN INVOLUNTARY EAVESDROPPER As she heard the words Edith Morriston stood for a moment as though transfixed, and then staggered back grasping at a tombstone for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051430 | support. Gifford took a quick step forward, but before he could be of help she had recovered from the shock, and motioning him back, was looking at him with incredulous eyes. "You were there?" she repeated, with more suspicion now than unbelief. "In that room at the top of the tower; yes; by accident," he answered in a tone calculated | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051431 | to reassure her. "Then you know--you saw what happened?" He bowed his head in assent. "Enough to be sure that Mr. Clement Henshaw was a great scoundrel, and that his fate was not altogether unmerited. Now," he added in a tone of decision, "you will have nothing more to do with this Gervase Henshaw, or he with you." It was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051432 | good to see the eager relief in Edith Morriston's eyes. "And you never told me this before," she said. "I could not very well," he replied. "And I should not have told you now had I not been forced to protect you from this man. It is a dangerous position for me to stand in, and I should in ordinary | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051433 | circumstances have let the affair remain a mystery." "I understand your position," she responded, with a look of gratitude. "But you can trust me." "Indeed I can," he assured her with infinite content. "I don't realize it now," the girl said, with signs that she was fighting against the effect of the reaction. "Can you trust me enough to tell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051434 | me how it all happened?" "I would trust you with my life," he responded fervently. "Though it hardly comes to that. Of course I will tell you the whole story of my adventure. But we had better not stay here. Mr. Henshaw must be getting impatient by this time and may come to look for you. Before he has the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051435 | chance of meeting you it will be well for you to hear the real facts of the case. Shall we come into the park, or would your brother--" "Dick is at church," she said, a little shamefacedly, it seemed. "I gave him the slip." "What a terrible risk you have just run," Gifford observed as they went through the churchyard | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051436 | to the private gate into the park. "If I had not happened to come along just then and see Henshaw waiting--" "Oh, don't talk of that now," she entreated. "I knew it meant horrible misery for the rest of my life, but anything seemed better than the terrible scandal which threatened us." "With which Henshaw threatened you, the scoundrel," Gifford | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051437 | corrected. "Now you shall see how little he really had to go upon." "And yet," she murmured, "it seemed overwhelming. I can scarcely believe even now that the danger is past." "Wait till you hear my story," he said with a reassuring smile. They had entered the enclosed path, called Church Walk, and passing the branch which led to the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051438 | drive, kept on between the tall laurel hedges. "We shall be quite undisturbed here," the girl said. "Dick is sure to turn off and go in by the drive. Now, Mr. Gifford, do trust me and tell me everything." "I hope it is not necessary to talk of trust between us," he replied, with as much tenderness as his chivalry | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051439 | permitted. "No; forgive me; I hope not," she responded quietly. "Now please tell me, Mr. Gifford, what I am longing to hear." "You will remember," Gifford began, as they slowly paced the moon-lit path, "that on the evening I came down here my suitcase containing my evening clothes had gone astray on the railway. There was no chance of its | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051440 | turning up at the hotel before ten o'clock, and I was therefore prevented from appearing at the dance till quite late. Naturally I would not hear of Kelson waiting for me, which like the good-natured fellow he is, he proposed to do; he therefore went off in good time." "Yes; I remember he arrived quite early," Edith Morriston murmured. "Clement | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051441 | Henshaw," Gifford proceeded, "left the hotel about the same time. They must have reached your house within a few minutes of one another." As he paused, his companion looked round at him inquiringly. "Yes," she said, with a certain suggestion of reticence; "I remember that too." Gifford continued. "Having seen Kelson off, I went up to our sitting-room to wait | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051442 | till my kit should arrive. I was very keen on seeing again the old place where in my young days I used to spend such happy months, and my enforced waiting soon became almost intolerable boredom. The result was that I got a fit of the fidgets; I could not settle down to read, and at last, having still an | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051443 | hour to spare, I resolved in my restlessness to stroll out and take a preliminary look from outside at what was practically my old home." "Yes." There was a catch of growing excitement in Edith Morriston's voice, which was scarcely above a whisper. "The wind was sharp that night, as we all know," Gifford went on, "and forbade loitering. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051444 | smart walk of fifteen or twenty minutes brought me here, knowing as I did every path and short cut across the park. The old familiar house looked picturesque enough with its many lighted windows and every sign of gaiety. Keeping away from the front entrance where carriages were constantly driving up and a good many people were about, I went | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051445 | round to the other side, avoiding the stables and passing along by the west wing. This, of course, brought me to the old tower, the scene of many a game and frolic in my young days. At its foot I stood for a while recalling memories of the past. In the mere idleness of affectionate remembrance I went up to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051446 | the garden door of the tower and mechanically turned the handle. It was unlocked. "I hardly know what made me go in; an impulse to stand again in those once familiar surroundings. It was fascinating to be in the old tower which the dim light showed me was just as I had last seen it more than a dozen years | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051447 | ago. The past came vividly back to me, and I stood there for a while indulging in a reverie of old days. The associations of the place seemed every moment to grip me more compellingly. The tower seemed quiet and altogether deserted; all I could hear was the dance-music away in the hall. There could be no risk, I thought, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051448 | of being seen if I went up to the floor above: and I quietly ascended the stairs to the first landing. The narrow passage leading to the hall was lighted up with sconces; at its farther end I could see the movement of the dancers. The band was playing a favourite waltz of mine, and I stayed there rather enjoying | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051449 | the music and the sight from my safe retreat. "It did not seem likely that any one would be coming to the tower, and I resolved, foolishly enough, for, of course, I was in my travelling suit, to wander up to the next floor and take a look at the room which held a rather sentimental association for me. It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051450 | was a stupid thing to do as I was there in, for the moment, a rather questionable situation, still I felt pretty secure from being noticed, and went up warily to the next floor. "There I found the room considerably altered from my recollection of it, especially as it was arranged as a sitting-out room, but no one was there, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051451 | nor were there any signs of its having been used, which from its rather secluded position, was natural enough. "Having given a reminiscent look round I concluded that it would be best to make a retreat, especially as there would be ample opportunity later in the evening for me to visit it again. I turned and went to the door. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051452 | On reaching the stairs I heard to my great annoyance the sounds of persons coming up and the subdued tones of a man's voice, I realized that I was caught, and my one chance of escape was to retreat up the topmost flight of stairs and wait in the darkness till the couple had gone into the room I had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051453 | just quitted. "Accordingly I turned and went up the remaining flight on tip-toe, two stairs at a time, waiting beyond the turn in hiding till the coast should be clear. "The couple had now reached the landing below and, so far as I could tell, went into the room. I was just about to make a quick descent, hoping to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051454 | get past that and other awkward points unnoticed, when to my dismay I became aware that the people whom I had thought safely settled in the room below had come out and were beginning to mount the topmost flight of stairs. This was indeed a most awkward predicament for me, and I debated for a moment whether my best course | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051455 | would not be to go boldly down the stairs and pass them, rather than retreat to the top room. If I had chosen the former course how differently things might have turned out; at any rate, for better or worse, the situation as it exists to-day might have presented itself in quite another form." Edith Morriston glanced quickly at Gifford | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051456 | as he uttered the reflection. She seemed about to speak, but checked the impulse, and he continued: "Treading noiselessly, I bolted up the remaining stairs and went into the dark room at the top. At the door, which stood open, I stopped and listened. To my intense vexation, for the situation was becoming decidedly unpleasant, the pair were still coming | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051457 | up. In silence now, but I could hear their approaching footsteps and the rustle of the lady's dress. Unfortunately, there was no corner on the top landing where I could stand hidden, so I was forced to draw back into the room. "Happily it had been so familiar to me from childhood that I could find my way about it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051458 | in the dark. I well remembered the little inner room formed by the bartizan of the tower, and into this I tip-toed, feeling horribly guilty. If only I had not been in that suspicious brown suit! In evening clothes there would, of course, have been no necessity for this surreptitious retreat. I devoutly hoped that the two were merely bent | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051459 | on exploring the place and that the darkness of the old lumber-room would quickly satisfy their curiosity and send them down again. I heard them come into the room, the man speaking in a tone so low that the words were indistinguishable from where I stood; and then the sound of the door being shut struck my ear unpleasantly. "Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051460 | the man spoke in a more audible voice, a voice which in a flash I recognized as Henshaw's. And his first words caught my attention with an unpleasant grip." GIFFORD CONTINUES HIS STORY "'Failing to get the regular invitation I had a right to expect, I have had to take this mode of seeing you,' I just caught the words | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051461 | in Henshaw's metallic, rather penetrating voice. "The lady's reply was given in a tone so low that at the distance I stood the words were indistinguishable. "'Unmanly?' he exclaimed, evidently taking up her word. 'I don't admit that for a moment. You know how we stand to one another and what my feelings are towards you. It is no use | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051462 | for you to try to ignore them or me. I won't stand being treated like this. There is no reason why my advances should be repulsed as though they were an insult.' "I caught the last words of the lady's reply: '--good reason, and you know it.' "It was more than clear to me now that I was to be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051463 | the witness of a very hateful piece of business. The man's tone, even more than his words, made my blood boil, and I began to congratulate myself on being thus accidentally in a position to protect, if need be, the girl whom this fellow was evidently bullying. With the utmost care I crept nearer to the small curtained arch which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051464 | admitted to the larger room. The pitch darkness of the little turret chamber in which I stood made me feel quite safe from observation. And I had no qualms now about eavesdropping; the situation surely justified it. "I went forward till I could get a sight round the arch of the two persons in the room. They were standing near | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051465 | the window at some distance from me. In the obscurity, not quite as impenetrable as that out of which I looked, I could distinguish the tall figure of the girl in a dark ball-dress, and facing her, towards me, the big form of Henshaw." "You had no idea who the lady was?" Edith Morriston interrupted him to ask. "Naturally not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051466 | the vaguest," Gifford answered. "When I had gone as far as was safe, I set myself to listen again. "'I don't know what your game is or whether you think you can play the fool with me,' Henshaw was saying in an ugly tone. 'But I warn you not to try it; I am not a man to be fooled. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051467 | Now let us be friends again,' he added in a softer tone. "It seemed as though he put out his hand for a caress, for the girl started back and I heard her say 'Never!' "'Folly!' he exclaimed. Then took a step forward. 'You are in love with another man?' he demanded. I could hear the hiss of the question. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051468 | "'If I were I should not tell you,' was the defiant reply in a low voice. "'You would not?' he snapped viciously. 'Let me tell you this, then. You shall never marry another man while I live. I hold the bar to that, as you will find.' "'You mean to act like a cad?' I heard the girl say. "'I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051469 | mean to act,' he retorted, 'like a sensible man who has a fair advantage and means, in spite of your caprice, to keep it.' "'Fair?' the girl echoed in scorn. "'Yes, fair,' Henshaw insisted with some heat. 'I saved you from a scandal that would have ruined you, and it was natural I should ask my reward. But your notions | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051470 | of gratitude, which had led me on to love you, soon evaporated; but I am not so easily dismissed.' "'You mean to continue your cowardly persecution?' There was a tremor in the girl's voice that made me long to get at the man. "'I mean to marry you,' he retorted. 'Or at least--' "'Don't touch me!' she said hoarsely as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051471 | he approached her. "'You are coming away with me to-night,' he insisted. 'You need not pretend to be horrified. It won't be your first nocturnal adventure, and I have waited quite long enough.' "He had driven her to the other corner on the window side of the room. As I leaned forward ready to fasten on the man when he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051472 | should offer violence I heard a peculiar sound as of a loose piece of wood or iron striking the sill. "'Keep away!' the girl said in a hoarse whisper. 'If you drive me to desperation I swear I will kill you.' "There followed a vicious laugh from Henshaw and I could tell from the panting which followed that a struggle | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051473 | was going on. Just then the moon came out and I could see that Henshaw was trying to get some object--a weapon, I guessed--away from the girl. It is a wonder that neither of them saw me. In the dark opening I must have still been practically hidden, and they too intent on their struggle to notice anything beyond. "I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051474 | was just on the point of springing out to the girl's assistance when she staggered back and, turning, made a rush for the door. In a moment Henshaw was after her, but in his blind haste he either tripped or stumbled and fell heavily. I think it likely that in the dark he struck against the corner of the rather | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051475 | massive oak table in the centre of the room and was thrown off his balance. He rose immediately, but I was now close behind him, and as he put out his arm to clutch the girl, who was then half through the doorway, I gripped him by the collar and with all my strength swung him back into the room. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051476 | "He must have been most horribly surprised, for he uttered a gasping cry as he spun round, and instead of keeping his feet and rushing at me as I expected he went down with a thud by the window." They had stopped in their walk now, and Edith Morriston was listening almost breathlessly to Gifford's graphic story. Never for a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051477 | moment had he suggested the lady's identity; for all that had passed neither of them might have known it. "I turned quickly to the door," Gifford continued, "but to my surprise the lady whom I expected to find there had disappeared. I could neither see nor hear any sign of her. "I took a step back into the room, fully | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051478 | expecting an onslaught from the infuriated Henshaw. 'You cowardly brute!' I exclaimed in the heat of my anger and excitement. But no reply came, and to my wonder he lay still on the floor where he had fallen." HOW GIFFORD ESCAPED "I waited for some time in silence, expecting him every moment to rise and retaliate. He was a big, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051479 | muscular man, but it never occurred to me to be in any fear of him physically. For one thing my indignation was too hot to admit fear; I happen to be quite good enough at boxing to be able to take care of myself, and I was sure--all the more from his continuing to lie there--that such a despicable bully | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051480 | must be a coward. "'You had better get up and clear out of this house,' I said wrathfully, 'before you get the thrashing you so richly deserve.' "No answer came. As I waited for one there was, save for my own breathing, dead silence in the room. Before speaking I had heard something like a long drawn sigh come from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051481 | the man on the floor, but now, listening intently, I could hear nothing. Two explanations suggested themselves to account for his still lying there. One, shame at his vile conduct having been witnessed by a third person, the other that he had struck his head against the wall in falling and was stunned. "Naturally I was not greatly concerned at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051482 | the fellow's condition, whichever it was; still it would, I concluded, be well to settle the matter, and if he was merely skulking see that he cleared out of the house. I shut the door, and then crossing to where the man lay, struck a match and held it out to get a view of him. "He lay on his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051483 | face with his arms bent under him. I prodded him with my foot, but he did not stir; he lay absolutely, rather uncannily still. The match burned out; I struck another and leaned over to get a sight of his face. To my horror there met my eyes a dark wet patch on the floor which I instinctively felt must | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051484 | be blood. You may imagine the terrible thrill the conviction gave me. Yet I could not believe even then that anything really serious had happened. "I struck a fresh match and holding it up with one hand, with the other took the man's shoulder and turned him over on his back. Then I knew that I was there with a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051485 | dead man. The hue of the face was unmistakably that of death. And the cause of it was plainly to be seen. There was a wound in the man's neck from which blood came freely. "How had the wound--clearly a fatal one--been caused? I searched for an explanation. That which forced itself upon me was that the girl had in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051486 | her desperation stabbed her persecutor with some weapon she had found there or brought with her. It was a horrible idea to entertain, although the act would have been almost justified. I wondered if by chance the weapon was still there. Striking a match I looked round. Yes; there on the floor near the spot where Henshaw had first fallen, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051487 | lay a narrow blood-stained chisel. "Whatever my first conclusions were I can see now the most probable explanation of how Henshaw came by his death-wound. He had forced the chisel away from the girl; he had kept it in his hand; in his eagerness to prevent his victim's escape he had not realized that he was holding it point upwards, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051488 | and when he fell it had pierced him with all the force of his heavy body falling plump on it." "Then you know it was an accident?" Edith Morriston drew a great breath of relief from the painful tension with which she had listened. "I can see it was a pure accident," Gifford answered. "All the same it was an | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051489 | accident with an ugly look about it, and I quickly realized that I was in an equivocal--not to say dangerous, situation." "It was a terrible predicament for you," the girl said sympathetically. "It was indeed. And one which called for prompt action. Moreover the very fact that I was not in evening clothes made it all the more suspicious. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051490 | pulled my wits together and proceeded to make quite sure that the man was actually dead. That I found was beyond all doubt the case, and it now remained for me to make my escape before being found there in that hideous situation. "I went out to the landing, closing the door after me, with the idea of getting down | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051491 | the stairs and escaping into the garden as secretly as I had come in. I had crept down a very few stairs when I found this was not to be. A chatter of voices just below told me that people were in the tower, and leaning over I could see couples passing between the passage to the hall and the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051492 | room below me. "At any moment, I realized, some of them might take it into their heads to explore the topmost room, when the result would be disastrous. Certainly in my mufti I could not get past the next floor just then without exciting fatal notice, and to wait for an opportunity when the coast might be clear was too | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051493 | dangerous, seeing the risk of someone coming up. "It was not easy to see my way of escape. I went to the top room and locked the door. My nerves were pretty strong, but they were severely tried when I shut myself in with the dead man and had the consciousness of having laid myself open to the charge of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051494 | being his murderer. I stood there by the door thinking desperately what I could do. Fool that I had been to venture into the place in that garb. But who could have foreseen the result? Anyhow there was no time for reflection; it was necessary to act and seek a possible expedient. Hopelessly enough I went into the little inner | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051495 | room and struck a match. In a moment a thrill of hope came to me, for the first object the light showed me was a big coil of rope conspicuous among the odds and ends of lumber in the recess. The idea of escape by the window had only occurred to me to be dismissed as a sheer impossibility; the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051496 | height of the tower made that quite prohibitive, but here seemed a chance of it. If only the rope was long enough. "I got hold of the coil as my match burned out, and pulled it away from the surrounding rubbish. Its weight gave me hope that it would be sufficient. In haste I dragged it to the outer room | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051497 | into which the moonlight was now streaming. With a shuddering glance at the dead man, whose ashen face stared up in ghastly fashion in the moonbeams, I opened the window and looked out to make sure that no one was below. Satisfied on that point I brought forward the rope and began paying it out of the window. To my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051498 | content I saw that there was a strong iron stanchion at the side which would allow of the rope being fastened to it. "There was light enough just then to enable me to see pretty well when the end of the rope reached the ground, and upon examining what was left in the room I calculated that not much more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000051499 | than half was outside. In a flash the discovery gave me an idea. Why should I not simply pass the rope behind the stanchion and use it doubled? By that means I could pull it down after me when I reached the ground, and so not only effect my escape but also leave the fact unknown. That, together with the | 60 | gutenberg |
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