Miss Arnott's Marriage Part 52

"Mrs Plummer, here is the knife for which you are looking."

With one hand she held out to her the handle of the knife, with the other she touched her on the shoulder. There could be no mistake this time as to whether or not the girl had penetrated to the sleep-walker's consciousness. They could all of them see that a shiver went all over her, almost as if she had been struck by palsy. She staggered a little backwards, putting out her arms in front of her as if to ward off some threatening danger. There came another fit of shivering, and then they knew she was awake--awake but speechless. She stared at the girl in front of her as if she were some dreadful ghost. Relentless, still set upon her purpose, Miss Arnott went nearer to her.

"Mrs Plummer, here is the knife for which you have been looking--the knife with which you killed your husband--Douglas Plummer--in the wood."

The woman stared at the knife, then at the girl, then about her. She saw the witnesses who stood in either doorway. Probably comprehension came to her bewildered intellect, which was not yet wide awake. She realised that her secret was no longer her own, since she had been her own betrayer, that the Philistines were upon her. She s.n.a.t.c.hed at the knife which the girl still held out, and, before they guessed at her intention, had buried it almost to the hilt in her own breast.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

WHAT WAS WRITTEN

She expired that same night without having uttered an intelligible word. In a sense her end could hardly have been called an unfortunate one. It is certain that, had she lived, she would have had a bad time, even if she had escaped the gallows. She had left behind her the whole story, set forth in black and white by her own hand. It was a sufficiently unhappy one. It is not impossible that, having heard it, a jury would have recommended her to mercy. In which case the capital sentence would probably have been commuted to one of penal servitude for life. It is a moot question whether it is not better to hang outright rather than endure a living death within the four walls of a gaol.

The story of her life as recounted by herself--and there is no reason to doubt the substantial accuracy of her narrative--was this.

Agatha Linfield, a spinster past her first prime, possessed of some means of her own, met at a Brighton boarding-house a young man who called himself Douglas Plummer. Possibly believing her to be better off than she was he paid her attentions from the first moment of their meeting. Within a month he had married her. In much less than another month she had discovered what kind of a man she had for a husband. He inflicted on her all sorts of indignities, subjecting her even to physical violence, plundering her of all the money he could. When he had brought her to the verge of beggary he fell into the hands of the police; as he was destined to do again at a later period in his career.

Hardly had he been sentenced to a term of imprisonment than his wife became the recipient of another small legacy, on the strength of which she went abroad, and, by its means, managed to live. Her own desire was never to see or hear of her husband again. She even went so far as to inform her relatives that he had died and left her a sorrowing widow.

He, probably having wearied of a woman so much older than himself and knowing nothing of the improvement in her fortunes, seems to have made no effort on his release to ascertain her whereabouts. In short, for some years each vanished out of the other's existence.

On the night of the Sat.u.r.day on which they returned from abroad, when Miss Arnott went for her woodland stroll, Mrs Plummer, whose curiosity had been previously aroused as to the true inwardness of her proceedings, after an interval followed to see what possible inducement there could be to cause her, after a long and fatiguing journey, to immediately wander abroad at such an uncanonical hour. She was severely punished for her inquisitiveness. Exactly what took place her diary did not make clear; details were omitted, the one prominent happening was alone narrated in what, under the circ.u.mstances, were not unnaturally vague and somewhat confused terms. She came upon the man who was known to Miss Arnott as Robert Champion, and to her as Douglas Plummer, all in a moment, without having had, the second before, the faintest suspicion that he was within a hundred miles. She had hoped--had tried to convince herself--that he was dead. The sight of him, as, without the least warning he rose at her--like some spectre of a nightmare--from under the beech tree, seems to have bereft her for a moment of her senses. He must have been still writhing from the agony inflicted by Jim Baker's "peppering" so that he himself was scarcely sane. He had in his hand Hugh Morice's knife, which he had picked up, almost by inadvertence, as he staggered to his feet at the sound of someone coming. It may be that he supposed the newcomer to have been the person who had already shot at him, that his intention was to defend himself with the accidentally-discovered weapon from further violence.

She only saw the knife. She had set down in her diary that he was waiting there to kill her; which, on the face of it, had been written with an imperfect knowledge of the facts. As he lurched towards her--probably as much taken by surprise as she was--she imagined he meant to strike her with the knife. Scarcely knowing what she did she s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him and killed him on the spot.

It was at that moment she was seen by Hugh Morice and Jim Baker, both of whom took her for Miss Arnott. Instantly realising what it was that she had done she fled panic-stricken into the woods with--presently--Hugh Morice dashing wildly after her. Miss Arnott saw Hugh Morice, and him only, and drew her own erroneous conclusions.

Mrs Plummer gained entrance to the house by climbing through a tall cas.e.m.e.nt window, which chanced to have been left unfastened, and which opened into a pa.s.sage near the foot of the service staircase.

Afterwards, fast asleep, she frequently got in and out of the house through that same window. Unknown to her the discreet Mr Day saw her entry. She had still very far from regained full control of her sober senses. So soon as she was in, seized, apparently, by a sudden recollection, she exclaimed, turning again to the cas.e.m.e.nt, "The knife!

the knife! I've left the knife!"

Mr Day, who had no particular affection for the lady, heard the words, saw the condition she was in, and decided, there and then, that she had recently been involved in some extremely singular business. Until, shortly afterwards, he admitted her himself, he was inclined to fear that she had killed his young mistress.

The impression Mrs Plummer had made upon his mind never left him.

Spying on her at moments when she little suspected espionage, his doubts gained force as time went on, until they amounted to conviction.

When the body was found in the spinney, although he had little evidence to go upon, he had, personally, no doubt as to who was the guilty party. It was because he was divided between the knowledge that it was his duty to tell all he knew and his feelings that it would be derogatory to his dignity and repellent to his most cherished instincts to be mixed up with anything which had to do with the police, that he was desirous of quitting Miss Arnott's service ere he was dragged, w.i.l.l.y-nilly, into an uncomfortably prominent position in a most unpleasant affair.

Nothing which afterwards transpired caused him at any time, to doubt, that, whenever he chose, he could lay his hand upon the criminal. He alone, of all the persons in the drama, had an inkling of the truth.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

MISS ARNOTT'S MARRIAGE

The charge against Jim Baker was withdrawn at the earliest possible moment. Hugh Morice was released that night from the confinement which he had himself invited. When Mr Nunn asked what had made him accuse himself of a crime of which he was altogether innocent he laughed.

"Since you yourself were about to charge one innocent person, you should be the last person in the world to object to my charging another."

The next day he went to Exham Park. There he saw its mistress. By degrees the whole tale was told. It took a long time in the telling.

Part of it was told in the house, and then, as it still seemed unfinished, he went out with her upon her motor car. The rest of it was told upon the way.

"It seems," she pointed out, "that, as the wretch married that poor woman before he ever saw me, I never was his wife at all. I don't know if it's better that way or worse."

"Better."

"I'm not so sure."

"I am. Because, when you become my wife--"

She put the car on to the fourth speed. There was a long, straight, level road and not a soul in sight. They moved!

"You'll get into trouble if you don't look out."

"I'm not afraid."

"I was about to remark that when you become my wife--"

"I wish you wouldn't talk to me when we're going at this rate. You know it's dangerous."

"Get down on to the first speed at once." She did slow a trifle, which enabled him to speak without unduly imperilling their safety. "I was saying that when you become my wife I shall marry you as Miss Arnott--Violet Arnott, spinster. That will be your precise description.

I prefer it that way, if you don't mind."

Whether she minded or not that was what he did. No one thereabouts had the dimmest notion what was her actual relation to the man who had met the fate which, after all, was not wholly undeserved. So that the great and glorious festival, which will not be forgotten in that countryside for many a day, is always spoken of by everyone who partook of the bride and bridegroom's splendid hospitality as "Miss Arnott's marriage."

It was indeed one of those marriages of which we may a.s.suredly affirm, that those whom G.o.d hath joined no man shall put asunder.

THE END