The Mystery of the Hidden Room Part 14

"Very well, Jenkins." I started down the hall when I heard him again at my elbow.

"Pardon my curiosity, sir," he whispered eagerly, "but did you see Mr.

McKelvie, sir?"

"No. He is unfortunately away and won't be home for a week," I said bitterly, realizing for the first time how much I had unconsciously counted upon this man's aid.

"Never mind, sir. The trial is two months away and in seven weeks Mr.

McKelvie can solve anything, sir."

"Thank you for your encouragement at any rate," I answered, touched by his desire to console me.

"It's the truth, sir," he replied simply.

"I wish I could think so," was my comment, but I did not speak it aloud.

Not for anything would I have hurt his feelings by displaying the doubts which had descended upon me again as to the ability of this man he so evidently worshipped. Instead I nodded agreement and stepped into the library.

"Mr. Trenton!"

Ruth's father was the last person I had expected to see, for I still held him responsible for all my misfortunes and I believe he was aware of the state of my feelings in the matter, since he had refused to give Jenkins his name, fearing that I might beg to be excused from seeing him. But he had taken me unawares and there was no retreat after my first exclamation.

"Carlton, have they really dared to commit Ruth to jail?" he asked in a voice that trembled with anger and emotion.

I nodded dumbly, and abruptly he sat down and hid his face in his hands, then as abruptly he rose and fell to pacing the room in an agitated manner. Apathetically I watched him. I too had had my siege of walking the floor. It was only fair that he should have his turn.

That he was suffering as I had suffered I divined, but it had no effect upon me beyond rousing a dull wonder and perhaps anger, that he should look no older than when I saw him last, six months ago. But, no, I was wrong. He was still the same spare man with a magnificent head of snow-white hair above a ma.s.sive brow and a pair of gray eyes, deep-set and penetrating, but sorrow and pain had left their trace, for so I read the meaning of the deep lines that had graven themselves around his mobile mouth and sensitive nostrils.

"Has counsel been appointed to defend her?" Mr. Trenton spoke so low and his voice was so charged with emotion as he sank wearily into my big chair, that his words made no impression on my brain and he was forced to repeat them before I could comprehend sufficiently to answer in the affirmative.

"Mr. Vaughn will arrange for her defense," I added.

"You will be permitted to testify in her behalf?" he inquired.

"No, I'm the chief witness against her," I answered sadly.

"What!" He was absolutely dumbfounded.

"Haven't you read the papers?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I have been ill for days. To-day the doctor told me I could go out. I overheard my hostess asking her husband if he thought it would hurt me to tell me about Ruth. I at once demanded an explanation and when I had been told that Ruth was in jail charged with the murder of her husband, I waited to hear no more but took the train and came straight to you. I naturally supposed--that is, of course--knowing your love for her I a.s.sumed you would do your best to free her by--by taking her side," he said brokenly.

I sighed. Once more the miserable details had to be recounted and then I laughed harshly. Mr. Trenton looked at me as though he thought that I must have taken leave of my senses. For the moment I verily think I had, for the thought came all unbidden that I was another Ancient Mariner relating my tale to all who crossed my path, only I could not remember what crime I had committed that I should be punished in so terrible a manner.

"Do you suppose it could have been in a former reincarnation?" I asked him in all seriousness.

"For heaven's sake, man, brace up!" cried Mr. Trenton alarmed. "You can't afford to go to pieces now!"

I pa.s.sed my hand wearily across my brow. "I--I guess I'm pretty nearly all in," I mumbled, sinking into a chair.

Ruth's father looked across at me compa.s.sionately. "Poor boy," he said gently. "I won't worry you for your story to-night."

"Have you any objections to my remaining here with you?" he continued presently, as I preserved an unbroken silence. "I--I can't bear to return--to that crime-haunted house," he added with a shudder.

"Certainly. Glad to have you. I'll ring for Jenkins," I murmured vaguely, trying to rise. But my legs refused to support me and my head fell back heavily against the cushions.

When next I opened my eyes I was in my bed and Jenkins was moving softly about the room.

"What time is it, Jenkins?" I asked, sitting up.

"Twelve-thirty, sir," responded Jenkins, pulling aside the curtains to let in the light of day.

"Have I been asleep all that time?" I inquired aghast.

"You were very tired, sir. You hardly slept the night before," he apologized for me.

"Mr. Trenton is waiting luncheon for you, sir. He wants to know how you are feeling, sir," he continued presently.

The events of the previous evening flocked into my mind, and I felt the blood surge into my cheeks. What a chicken-hearted fellow her father must have thought me!

"Tell Mr. Trenton I'll join him in the library in half an hour," I said decisively.

"Very well, sir."

It was more than thirty minutes before I made my appearance, but I had myself well in hand now and after luncheon, at which we spoke only of common-places, I told him that I was ready to give him the details of the case. Immovably he sat with his head bowed upon his hands while I related the facts, nor did he interrupt by word or gesture at any time during the recital.

When I had finished he raised his head, and I was startled by the old and haggard look upon his face. He had aged ten years in as many minutes.

"The sins of the father," he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "Carlton, it's all my fault that Ruth has killed that wretch!"

CHAPTER XII

AN EXPLANATION

When a human being has run the gamut of horror and suffering in a short s.p.a.ce of time his mind ceases to be affected by further sensations. At any other time I should have been appalled that Mr. Trenton could even for a moment believe his daughter guilty. As it was, I merely accepted his words as one more link in the chain of evidence against her.

"My boy," he said humbly, "I know that you have held me responsible for your misfortunes. And you are perfectly right to feel so. I, and I alone, am to blame for all that has happened."

He paused to wipe the moisture that had gathered on his forehead, showing what an effort he was making to control his emotion.

"But if I am to blame in spoiling the boy, I have been punished beyond my due. You do not know, I hope you may never know the anguish, the torture, the awful horror, of learning that the being you have worshipped and adored is worthless clay, a--a common murderer! I was frantic, crazy, and to save my boy I sacrificed my girl. And now, and now--" He broke off with a sob and buried his head in his hands.

"Mr. Trenton, don't. I'll stake my life that Ruth is innocent." I held out my hand, touched as I had thought I no longer possessed the power to be touched by his sorrow. Certainly if I had suffered, he had been in h.e.l.l.

"My boy, you give me new life," he said, raising his head and taking my hand. "I do not deserve your forgiveness."