The Paternoster Ruby Part 9

"But somehow or other, that mad proposal stuck by me; it followed me persistently into the depths of my misery and colored all my hopeless cogitations--if only I could get my hands upon that bit of crimson gla.s.s! Great Scott, Swift! I believe, had I known where it was and could have gotten at it, I would have stolen it. Yes, sir, sardonically as it was advanced, the proposal to obtain the Paternoster ruby was not to be banished from my mind, and in a day or two I found myself weighing the chances of success.

"Well, the results in favor of accomplishing an undertaking so foolhardy were, even when contemplated in the most favorable light, exactly _nil_. And then there flashed into my mind a number of questions which--and I trust you 'll believe me when I a.s.sert it--had never come to me before: Who was my uncle's heir? To whom, when he died, would the ruby go? Who, or what, was to benefit by all that vast wealth he was so laboriously piling up?

"Now I had--and still have, for that matter--good reasons for believing that I was the only living relative, and of course knew that if he were to die intestate the whole of his property would pa.s.s to me simply by operation of law.

"But suppose he _had_ made a will--was it likely that I had been entirely ignored? The drawing of a will is a solemn matter to the party most concerned, and at such a time the tie of blood is apt to urge its claims in a still small voice--a mere whisper, maybe, but astonishingly pertinacious. Therefore, was Mr. Page so indifferent to his only living kin--had all the common feelings of humanity so far evaporated from his heart--that he would remain deaf to that feeble plea?

"The end of this line of thought was a resolution to call upon my uncle, bare my heart to him, and then appeal to him on the strength of our relationship and his loneliness, to aid me. Without presuming that I entertained any expectations from him, still, if he meant to remember me at all, I intended to urge my present necessities as out-weighing every desire and hope of the future.

"Hopeless? Crazy? Of course it was! But I never would have been satisfied until I made the effort. . . . Belle, I want to smoke."

He paused, and producing a cigarette, lighted it. But as it was plain that he had not finished, his hearers were far too absorbed in his surprising recital to break in upon the silence. Miss Fluette had followed his every word with a light of love and sympathy shining in her hazel eyes, which was undoubtedly exerting an encouraging influence over the narrator; but Miss Cooper, I observed--and not without some inward satisfaction--was covertly watching me, as if she would fathom my thoughts and read the effect which the story was producing there.

And right here let me say that at the moment I would have been hard put to it if suddenly called upon to define that effect.

First of all, Maillot had shown that he was keenly sensible of the seriousness of his position, and in looking forward to the incredible story he would have to tell, had realized that its entire trend would mean self-incrimination. As he himself might have phrased it, he was supplying me not only with a motive for the crime, but, from the time of his conversation with Mr. Fluette forward, with evidence which c.u.mulatively inculpated himself.

So far, I had felt like one listening to a confession; as if all that I had already harkened to was but a preamble to the tragedy which was yet to follow. I may go still farther: the thought occurred to me that he might be paving the way for justification for a deed of blood.

Convinced that the responsibility for Page's death lay between himself and Burke, it would appear that he was adopting the only means of getting out of a bad hole.

Still I knew in my heart that the denouement of his recital had at best been only hinted at. Had he been under arrest, it would have been my duty to warn him that whatever he might say could be used against him as evidence. Yet I was bound to listen, to encourage him to talk, if he would; but I could not help considering the effect this story would produce upon the minds of a jury. I caught a wistful look in the blue eyes; and then I told Maillot something of what was in my own mind.

"I know it, Swift," he at once returned. "But I believe my only hope lies in placing myself unreservedly in your hands. I 'm going to trust myself to your--"

A queer little sound from Miss Fluette--between a gasp and a sob--checked him. She got abruptly to her feet, and fixed such a look of aversion upon me, that I hope I may never again be the object of its like. It is decidedly unpleasant not to be in the good graces of so handsome a girl. The color ebbed quickly from her cheeks, her eyes widened and her lips trembled.

"Royal," she said brokenly, but with an effort at self-control, "does this--this man mean that you are suspected of--of your uncle's _murder_?" And all her feelings were compressed into the emphasis of that last word.

"Belle!" came in gentle chiding from Miss Cooper, "Don't! Can't you see that Royal is trusting to Mr. Swift?" Then she too rose; she pa.s.sed round to her cousin's side of the table, drew a chair close up to her and sat down. She took Miss Fluette's hand into her own, and sought to draw her back into her seat, just as Maillot spoke up with a confidence and a.s.surance for which I could not help but admire him.

"Suspect me!" he cried amazedly, dashing the remnant of his cigarette into the fire. "Oh, figs! Of course he doesn't, Belle; but--look here: there are plenty who will. I want to make it plain that, in a way wholly unintentional on my part, I have got myself mixed up in a pretty bad mess, and then I want to make sure of Mr. Swift's cooperation in my efforts to extricate myself.

"My dear Belle,"--a gentle note crept into his voice,--"please consider the circ.u.mstances under which I came here last night; think of the tragedy which followed so swiftly; consider the story I have to tell, and then ask yourself, Who is going to believe it? G.o.d help us both, dear girl, but this thing has all got to be brought out and aired in public!"

The fine brown eyes searched my face.

"Do you believe that Royal Maillot is guilty of this monstrous crime?"

she asked me point-blank.

Before I had time to frame a reply, she once more sprang impetuously from her chair, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with anger.

"Answer me, sir, do you believe that?"

I replied, then, calmly, if non-committally:

"As Mr. Maillot has said, I am of a disposition to help him out of a tight place, and I trust that his friends will not put unnecessary obstacles in the way of working to that end."

She said no more. Poor Belle Fluette! She was to have my sympathy more than once during the days that were to follow. Miss Cooper looked at me a little apprehensively, but I read confidence in her eyes.

"Let Mr. Maillot proceed," I now said. "It is not fair to him to fail at this stage to hear all that he has to say, providing he really desires to continue. I want to ask one question, though, before you proceed."

"Well?"

I glanced meaningly at Miss Fluette. "Considering all the circ.u.mstances, can you confide in me with propriety--just now?"

"To be sure," he replied, promptly and earnestly; "as well now as any time. You may readily imagine that to sit here and unfold affairs so intimately personal is a matter of expediency and not of choice."

He had missed my point altogether; I wanted to spare the girl. But it was n't for me to warn him of the complications which were likely to arise from his disclosures.

"I can well believe that," said I. "Go on."

CHAPTER VII

HOW THE ERRAND ENDED

"Don't you know, Swift," Maillot resumed, after a meditative pause, "that it's a mighty easy matter to misjudge a man? Certain reports concerning a person become current, for example, and before we know it--perhaps without giving the matter a thought--we gradually grow to accept them as accurately descriptive of his personality.

"I have wondered more than once during the past week whether we have n't an entirely erroneous conception of every prominent man whom we don't know intimately. 'By your actions be ye judged'--if we were, most of us would be condemned out of hand.

"No, sir; it's not by a man's actions that he may be accurately appraised, but the motives that lie behind those actions; and those motives are exceedingly difficult to define. The incentive that impels us to a given act may be all right, the intention to perform it the best in the world, and then the act itself may be all wrong. Who 's to blame then? Who more than any other can set himself up to censure our conduct, or lay down a code of ethics and morals for his neighbor to follow? I am a.s.suming that you have heard a good deal about my uncle, and I know the reports concerning him are anything but flattering."

This speech fell in so harmoniously with my own train of reasoning, that I gave the young man's words the closest attention. a.s.suming that he was in fact guilty, as I had already tentatively theorized, then would not his present utterances appear very like a plea in vindication of his deed?--or, at least, as an apology? If he were guilty, he was supplying me the support of a sound argument.

His a.n.a.lysis of motives, at any rate, made me exceedingly regardful of every shifting light and shade of his really remarkable narrative. I remained keenly alert not to miss a phase of it, but carefully to ponder and weigh every one.

However, that narrative must not be r.e.t.a.r.ded.

"Before I came here last night," he took it up once more, "I thought I had imagined every possible combination of emotions with which my uncle would receive my brazen offer; but his amazement when he heard me was as nothing to mine at the way in which he took it.

"First of all, in a gruff, glum sort of way, the old gentleman seemed really glad to see me; but he was in a hurry to warn me that I had better get my errand over quickly, as he was contemplating catching a nine-thirty train for Duluth--for what purpose he did n't say. As the evening wore on, however, and after I had once or twice hinted that I could wait till a more opportune time to make known my business, he impatiently commanded me to proceed; whereupon I naturally concluded that he had, since my coming, given over the projected trip.

"That fellow Burke was in the hall when I entered; and while there was nothing in his manner that I could have picked out as hostile, still I felt vaguely that he resented my intrusion. But why should he? Blamed if _I_ know. As my uncle and I entered the library, Burke had the nerve to b.u.t.t in with a reference to some papers and a reminder that the Duluth train left at nine-thirty. Maybe you think the old gentleman did n't turn him down cold--didn't bother Burke in the least, though, or interrupt the cool, unwavering inspection that he continued to bestow upon me. The fellow was fairly burning up with curiosity to find out what my business was.

"Well, after Mr. Page and I got in here, he put it to me bluntly: Did I want money? If so, how much and what for? Now was n't that an encouraging beginning in view of what I was after? Nevertheless I was resolved to do or die; to be heard to the end, or else kicked out of the house forthwith. That last is what I had coming to me, all right--it's what I was looking for.

"I began by saying that I simply wanted him to listen to me for a few minutes--to hear me till I got through--and then he would know well enough what I was after. I could see that my manner, if not my words, had aroused his curiosity; thus emboldened, I plunged right in. I told him of my love for Belle."

The two of them then and there verified this all-absorbing fact by another interchange of ardent glances. Heaven knows, neither of them was in the least self-conscious or at all shy over the matter. Miss Belle seemed to glory in it; to accept his unspoken professions of devotion with a joyous sort of triumph which crowned her haughty beauty with the shining mien of a conqueror.

I thought of Mr. Fluette, financier, speculator, man of affairs that he was, and concluded that I did not at all envy him his self-imposed task of keeping asunder these two lovers. I wondered, too, in the event he could be brought to appreciate the depth and sincerity of their attachment, whether his opposition would still remain obdurate. If so, the future must be dark and stormy--if not tragic--for him. Here was a woman, if I read aright, capable of great sacrifices; she was ready to rush headlong into them, too, if need be.

Ah, well! When did a parent and a lover ever see things from the same point of view?

Maillot did not pause long.

"When I first mentioned her name,--for as I had to do so, I did it boldly,--his interest quickened, and I was positive that his attention became more respectful. He seemed to think quite suddenly that what I had to say might be of some importance, after all.