Witness to the Deed Part 70

"Yes. Why did I do all this? Did I not know that, in spite of all your scheming and precautions, sooner or later the discovery must be made.

Was I to let you live on with that horror waiting always at your elbow, driving you mad with dread, as I felt it was bound to do? It was for your sake, boy, that I fought as I did, and brought your victim out here."

"But tell me--what did you mean to do?"

"How can I, when my own ideas were all vague and strange, as I sat there that night with this,"--he tapped his water-pipe--"and tried to hit on some plan; and somehow the horror pa.s.sed away, and I felt no fear of the poor wretch lying there before me. I wondered at myself--that I could sit there so calmly smoking, in the face of all that had pa.s.sed; but I did, for I said to myself, 'What is death, after all, but sleep?'

"So I sat and thought, much as a man would under the circ.u.mstances--much as you did--and I felt that I had done right in this my first step toward saving you from the pain and suffering that was sure to come; for I had no doubt of the discovery. Then I argued that such a wretch was worthless, and that, even dead, he ought not to have the power to injure two people whom I loved. I knew that you meant to hide your--"

"Crime," interposed Stratton.

"I never looked upon it as a crime. Let us call it your misfortune in slaying another in the effort to save your own life. There, then, was my position. I had gone so far; and, difficult as the task had seemed, the task was easy beside that which was to come."

"Tell me what you did," said Stratton hoa.r.s.ely.

"I tell you I sat down to think," said Brettison coolly, "and the more I thought the more impossible the task seemed to grow. I told myself that it must be done--that body must be concealed where no prying eyes could find it, and so that he who hid it could never be forced to bear the blame.

"If the poor wretch were discovered, it did not matter, thought I--no one would know him. Even if it was found who he was, it did not matter; for, I tell you, I felt no compunction, and I told myself that in time you would get over the shock and might be happy after all; for I said that you would have no greater cause for self-reproach than the soldier who slays an enemy to save his own life.

"What, then, could I do? Get the poor wretch carried down to a cab, have him borne to a hospital, and escape in the bustle of the ambulance being brought to him?

"That meant discovery, I felt sure. And I thought of the streets by night. In all probability, no one had seen him come up to the chambers; but I was damped directly there; for those who carried the man down would be able to tell whence he came, and hundreds would be glad to play the amateur detective and hunt me down.

"On all hands I was checked," continued Brettison, "and I could not help thinking, as I found myself hedged in by obstacles, how much safer we all are in London than we think. The difficulty seemed to increase, and at last I began to recall the story in the 'Arabian Nights' about the man choking himself to death with a bone, and the trouble his host had to dispose of the body. You remember about how they propped it up against another man's door, so that he knocked it down and imagined that he had killed the intruder. I fancied myself carrying the man into the streets myself, but I did not."

Brettison said all this in so careless and jaunty a manner, that Stratton raised his head and gazed at him in horror and disgust. For how could he treat so terrible an event so lightly, and discourse of all his thoughts as they came to him with the body lying on the rug just at his feet.

Stratton's look had its effect, for Brettison became a little uneasy.

"Ah, I see you are shocked at my way of treating the matter. Well, I suppose I am wrong. It is all fresh and terrible to you; it has no repulsion for me now. I am only able to look back upon it all as a curious experience of life--a singular turn of the wheel--by which I, a retiring, simple-minded botanist, whose greatest excitement was the discovery of a fresh herb or plant new to England, suddenly found himself playing the part of accomplice to one who had taken another's life."

"Accomplice?" faltered Stratton.

"Of course. The law would treat me as being so. Was I not trying to dispose of the body of the victim so as to screen you from discovery?

Oh, yes; an accomplice. Yes, I argued to myself that the man died by his own hand, and that I was working for your happiness."

"For Heaven's sake, Brettison, don't talk like this!" cried Stratton, almost fiercely. "It is too horrible!"

"You think so," said the old man, with a faint smile of amus.e.m.e.nt. "Ah, well! we view these things from different points."

"Tell me at once what you did--with it."

"Let me tell you my own way. Old men are tedious, Stratton, and I am, I suppose, no exception to the rule. However, I will be brief, for I am torturing you, I fear. I racked my brains for hours and evoked dozens of plans, but there was always some terrible obstacle in the way, and at last I sat back here in utter despair, seeing nothing but the plain fact before me--that your wisdom was greater than mine, and that the only way out of the difficulty was the one you had chosen--to restore the body to the hiding-place in there.

"It was miserably humiliating, but I could do no more. It was madness to keep the poor wretch where I had laid him; discovery might come at any time. Once I thought of leaving him there and going away myself-- disappearing, as it were, from the world. I could keep my chambers untouched for months--perhaps years--by sending a cheque to the agent from time to time. But I knew that this must end in discovery. An unforeseen event might result in the chambers being opened and searched, and, in all probability, the dead might take revenge and prove our betrayer--you, as a naturalist, know how.

"I gave that up, then, like the rest, and, in utter despair, began to unfasten the door again, drew it open, listened, and all was still. You and Guest were, in all probability, asleep.

"Going back to the hearthrug, sick and in disgust, I stooped down to reverse my repulsive task, when, as I touched the body and half raised his head and shoulders from the floor, like a flash of lightning, the way out of the difficulty came. Then, overcome by my emotion, I literally reeled into my bedroom like a drunken man, and dropped upon my knees by my pillow in the thankfulness of my heart, though it was long before I could utter other words than--'Heaven, I thank thee! My poor lad is saved.'"

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

THE REVELATION CONTINUED--A LIGHTNING STROKE.

The moment before these last words escaped from Brettison's lips Stratton had been sitting there with his elbows on the table, his face worn, haggard, and full of horror and disgust; but now the interest in his old friend's statement returned, and he watched him eagerly. The explanation was coming at last. The half-cynical, indifferent manner, too, had pa.s.sed away, as he continued:

"I came back to this very chair, Stratton, trembling and agitated as I had never been before, to stoop down at once, and then go upon one knee there--there on the rug. His head was just there, boy, and his face a little on one side, so that the profile of the vile scoundrel stood out, clearly cut, against the background of dark chocolate wood."

Brettison's manner was now excited, his words low and hoa.r.s.e, and his manner had proved contagious; for Stratton's lips parted, and he leaned over toward the speaker.

"For a few minutes I could do no more," continued Brettison. "A horrible dread a.s.sailed me--that I had been deceived--that the door I had, in imagination, seen open before me had closed again, and that I was once more shut in with the terrible difficulty. But, nerving myself again, I pa.s.sed one arm beneath the shoulders as before, raised him a little, and once more there was a low moan."

"What?" cried Stratton wildly, as he started from his seat.

"Wait patiently, and you shall hear," said Brettison; then, drawing a panting breath, as if the effort of recalling the terrible scene, with its excitement, was almost more than he could bear, he went on:

"I lowered him again, not daring to think that he was alive, knowing that the sound might have been caused by the escape of a little air from the cavity of the chest. For a few minutes I was sure that this was so, and my hopes were all dashed again. People have called me a learned man, Malcolm; but, before a difficulty like that, I was a poor, helpless, ignorant child.

"Mastering myself, though, at last, I thrust my hand into his breast; but I could feel nothing. I fancied there was a pulsation, but could not tell but that it might be caused by my own throbbing arteries. I tried the wrists, and then, tearing open the collar of his shirt, thrust my hand in there, and the pulsation was plain now. More, I distinctly felt a throb, as a low moan once more escaped from the man's lips."

"Not dead?" gasped Stratton. "Her husband! Living? Great Heavens!"

He sank back into his chair, staring wildly; and then, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper:

"Go on!" he panted, "go on!"

"The way of escape was open widely now," cried Brettison, reaching over to clutch his companion's wrist, "and I could see my way clearly. It was madness to attempt to move the body of a dead man through the streets, boy--detection was certain; but to take a sick or injured man from one place to another was simplicity itself, and I breathed freely.

I could act."

"Not dead--not dead!" muttered Stratton, who looked as if he had received some terrible mental blow, which had confused his faculties and made the effort of following his old friend's narrative almost beyond his powers.

"I closed that door at once, in dread now lest the moans should have been heard; and, able to grasp the position, I could work coolly enough.

Going down on my knees with sponge and basin, I soon found that there was a small orifice behind the right ear. This had bled freely, but it had ceased; and, grasping at once that the bullet had gone upward, I examined next to find its place of exit.

"There was none. The bullet was, in all probability, still in the head.

"He moaned a little as I bathed away all traces of the injury; and when I had done, save that tiny orifice just behind the ear, there was nothing to show that he was not sleeping, for the face was quite composed.

"What to do next? Not a moment, I felt, must be lost, if I wished to save his life; and, with a feeling of grim cynicism, I asked myself whether I did. For I was in a dilemma. On the one hand, if I saved him, it cleared you from what might devolve into a charge of murder; on the other hand, if I let him die, Myra would be free, and some day--"

"No, no, impossible!" groaned Stratton. "Go on."

"I could not decide what I ought to do at first, for--I confess it--I was dragged both ways; but I took the right road, Stratton.

"It was late, but it was a case of emergency, and the man's face helped me to the tale I meant to tell. There was the swollen nose and there were the pimply blotches of the man who drank. That was sufficient for me; and with a strength of which I did not believe myself capable, I dragged him by the shoulders into my bedroom and locked him in. Then, taking my hat, I made my way out unseen, took a cab, and had myself driven to the house of an old servant, who was a pensioner of mine in South London. She was just about to retire for the night, but readily made preparations for the reception of an unfortunate friend of mine who had met with an accident, while I hurried back, discharged my cab, took a fresh one--the man, for ample pay, being willing enough to undertake my task, and soon found for me a strong helper.

"The rest was easy. I lied to them, and, on taking the man up with me, left him in my room, while I went into the chamber, trembling lest I should find our enemy was dead.