A Terrible Secret Part 15

"Repeat what you heard, if it bears on this case."

"The first words I heard, were from Miss Inez. She was giving him something--money, I thought, and she said: 'Now go and never come back.

Your coming has done evil enough surely.' I couldn't catch his answer.

He took what she gave him, and Miss Inez burst out, as she always does, in one of her tearing pa.s.sions: 'How dare you say so, you wretch! whom it is my bitterest shame to call brother. _But for you she would be alive and well_--do you think I don't know it? Go! Living or dead, I never want to look upon your face again.'"

The sensation in the court [said the _Chesholm Courier_] as the witness repeated these words, was something indescribable. A low, angry murmur ran from lip to lip; even the coroner turned pale.

"Witness," he said, "take care! You are on oath, remember. How can you recall accurately word for word what you heard?"

"Are they the sort of words likely to be forgotten?" Jane Pool retorted. "I know I'm on oath; I'll take five hundred oaths to these words, if you like. Those were the very words Miss Inez Catheron spoke.

She called him her brother. She said but for him _she_ would be alive to-night. Then he plunged into the wood and disappeared, and she went back to the house. I hav'nt spoken of this to any one since. I wrote the words down when I came in. Here is the writing."

She handed the coroner a slip of paper, on which what she had repeated was written.

"I knew I would have to swear to it, so I wrote it down to make sure.

But my memory is good; I wouldn't have forgotten."

The witness was rigidly cross-examined, but nothing could shake her testimony.

"The window," she said, "of the room where the murder was committed, opened on a lawn and flower-garden--any one could have entered by it.

The knife lay on the table close by."

Dr. Dane was next called and gave his medical testimony. The dagger shown, would inflict the wound that caused Lady Catheron's death. In his opinion, but one blow had been struck and had penetrated the heart.

Death must have been instantaneous. A strong, sure hand must have struck the blow.

The policeman who had found the dagger was called, and testified as to its discovery among the brake, on the evening succeeding the murder.

Miss Catheron was the next and last witness summoned. At the sound of her name a low, ominous hiss was heard--sternly repressed at once by the coroner.

"Miss Catheron came in," quoth the _Courier_, "as pale as marble and looking as emotionless. Her large dark eyes glanced over the crowded room, and dead silence fell. The young lady gave her evidence clearly and concisely--perfectly calm in tone and manner.

"On the Friday evening in question, the deceased Lady Catheron and myself had a misunderstanding. It was my fault. I made a remark that wounded her, and she retorted by saying I should leave Catheron Royals on the morrow. I answered equally angrily, that I would not, and left the room. When I was alone I began to regret what I had so hastily said. I thought the matter over for a time, and finally resolved to return and apologize. I went back to the nursery, and found Lady Catheron fast asleep. I would not disturb her, and immediately left the room. On the threshold, I encountered Nurse Pool. I had always disliked the woman, and spoke sharply to her, ordering her away. Half an hour after, as I sat in my room alone, Hooper, the butler, came up, and told me my lady was murdered. I was naturally shocked and horrified. I went down with him, and saw her. I hardly knew what to do; I felt stunned and bewildered by the suddenness of so terrible a catastrophe. I told the butler to send for Sir Victor, for the family physician, and the police. I knew not what else to do. I could not remain in the room, because the sight of blood always turns me faint and sick. I retired to my own apartment and remained there until the arrival of Lady Helena Powyss."

There was one fact, the _Chesholm Courier_ did not chronicle, concerning Miss Catheron's evidence--the formal, constrained manner in which it was given, like one who repeats a well-learned lesson by rote.

As she concluded, the coroner ventured to put a few respectful questions.

"On the night succeeding the murder, Miss Catheron, you met after dusk a man in the grounds. Do you object to telling us who that man was?"

"I do," Miss Catheron replied, haughtily. "I most decidedly object. I have told all I have to tell concerning this murder. About my private affairs I will answer no impertinent questions, either now or at any future time."

Miss Catheron was then allowed to retire. The jury held a consultation, and it was proposed to adjourn the inquest for a few days, until Juan Catheron should be discovered.

In one of the rooms of the "Mitre," Miss Catheron stood with Lady Helena, Sir Roger Kendrick, and a few other sympathizing and indignant friends. There was but little said--but little to say. All felt that a dark, terrible cloud was gathering over the girl's head. It broke sooner than they looked for.

As they lingered there for a few moments, awaiting the issue of the inquest, a constable entered with a warrant, approached and touched Miss Catheron lightly on the shoulder.

Lady Helena uttered a gasping cry; Sir Roger strode forward; the young lady slightly recoiled. The constable took off his hat and spoke:

"Very sorry, Miss, but it's my painful duty. I have a warrant here from Squire Smiley, Justice of the Peace, to arrest you on suspicion of wilful murder."

CHAPTER XI.

"RING OUT YOUR BELLS! LET MOURNING SHOWS BE SPREAD!"

Three days after, a long and stately procession pa.s.sed slowly through the great gates, under the lofty Norman archway, bearing to the Catheron vaults the body of Ethel, last lady Catheron.

A long and sad ceremonial! Why, it seemed only yesterday that that mournful, pa.s.sing bell had rung out the welcoming peal; but yesterday since they had lit the bon-fires, and tossed their hats in the air, and cheered with all their hearts and souls, the gallant husband and lovely wife. For a "squire of high degree" to marry beneath him, is something that goes home, warm and true, to every humble heart. Sir Victor's tenantry had never been half so proud of him, as when he had brought among them his low-born wife. It seemed but yesterday that all the parish had seen her, walking up this very aisle, in pale, flowing silks, and with the sweetest face the sun ever shone on, leaning on her happy young husband's arm; and now they carried her dead--foully murdered--to the open Catheron vault, and laid her to sleep forever beside the high-born dames of the race who slept their last sleep there.

"All men are equal on the turf and under it," once said a famous sporting n.o.bleman. Ethel Dobb, the London soap-boiler's daughter, took her place to-day, among the dead daughters of earls and marquises, their equal at last, by right divine of the great leveller, Death.

A great and solemn hush pervaded all ranks, s.e.xes, and cla.s.ses. Struck down in her sleep, without a moment's warning, in her own home--a deep murmur, that was like the murmur of an angry sea, ran through them as they collected together.

_Who_ had done this deed?--the girl confined in Chesholm jail, or her scoundrel brother? They remembered him well--like Ishmael of old, his hand against every man, and every man's hand against him, the head and instigator of every poaching fray, or hen-roost robbery, every fight and evil deed done in Chesholm. Both brother and sister hated her--Inez Catheron that she had taken her lover from her--Juan Catheron that he had lost her himself. After Sir Victor he was heir-at-law. Failing the life of the infant son, he might one day write himself Sir Juan.

It was a lucky thing, croaked the Chesholm gossips, that Nurse Pool had removed the baby, else the dagger that stabbed the mother would have found its way to the heart of the child. Curse the black-hearted murderer of sleeping women and from the throng in the churchyard there rose up a groan to Heaven, and a hundred angry hearts pledged themselves to avenge it if the law would not.

"The coroner would have let the young lady escape," said one. "See how he snubbed Mrs. Pool, and how easily he let her betters off. If Justice Smiley hadn't got out his warrant, she'd have been off to the continent and clear away, long before this."

"Why don't they find Juan Catheron?" said another. "They _say_ they're looking for him--why don't they find him then? Murderers don't escape so easily nowadays--the law finds 'em if it wants to find 'em. It's seven days since the murder was done, and no tale or tidings of him yet."

"And when he is found neither he nor his sister shall escape. If the law lets them clear, _we_ won't. The time when rank could shield crime is over, thank Heaven. Let them hang as high as Haman--they deserve it. I'll be the first to pull the rope."

Day-by-day, the feeling had grown stronger and bitterer, against brother and sister. The Englishman's proverbial love of "fair play,"

seemed for once forgotten. The merciful reasoning of the law, that takes every man to be innocent until he is proven guilty, was too lenient to be listened to. The brother had murdered her--the sister had aided and abetted. Let them both hang--that was the _vox populi_ of Chesholm--hanging was too good for them.

"How did she take her arrest--she was always as proud as Lucifer and as haughty as a duke's daughter?" asked the curious townfolk.

She had taken it very quietly as though she had expected it. When Lady Helena and Sir Roger had cried out in horror at her arrest, she had stood firm. A slight, sad smile had even crossed her lips.

"Dear Aunt Helena--dear Sir Roger," she had said, "there's nothing to be surprised at. Don't interfere with this man; he is only doing his duty. I knew this would come. I have expected it from the first. It will be unpleasant for the time--of the result I have no fear. In these days, when so many guilty escape, it is not likely the innocent will be punished. Let me go with this man quietly, Aunt Helena; I," a flush of proud pain pa.s.sed over her face, "I don't want the servants--I don't want the rabble to see me."

She held out her hand to her aunt, and her aunt's old friend.

"Good-by, Aunt Helena," she said wistfully. "Good-by, Sir Roger.

Nothing that they can bring against me will shake your faith in me, I know. You will both come to see me often, I hope, and bring me news of poor Victor. Should--I mean _when_ he recovers--don't tell him of this--don't, I beg. It can do no good--it may do him harm. Good-by once more--give my love to Uncle G.o.dfrey. Aunt Helena, don't distress yourself so; I cannot bear it."

"Do you think I will let you go alone? No, I will go with you to the prison, if these besotted wretches persist in sending you there. But oh, there _must_ be some mistake--it is too atrocious. Sir Roger, can't you do something? Great Heaven! the idea of Inez Catheron being lodged in Chesholm jail like a common felon!"