23 chapters
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23 chapters
I. THE WOMAN WITH THE DIAMOND
I. THE WOMAN WITH THE DIAMOND
I was, perhaps, the plainest girl in the room that night. I was also the happiest—up to one o’clock. Then my whole world crumbled, or, at least, suffered an eclipse. Why and how, I am about to relate. I was not made for love. This I had often said to myself; very often of late. In figure I am too diminutive, in face far too unbeautiful, for me to cherish expectations of this nature. Indeed, love had never entered into my plan of life, as was evinced by the nurse’s diploma I had just gained after
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II. THE GLOVES
II. THE GLOVES
I must have remained insensible for many minutes, for when I returned to full consciousness the supper-room was empty and the two hundred guests I had left seated at table were gathered in agitated groups about the hall. This was what I first noted; not till afterward did I realize my own situation. I was lying on a couch in a remote corner of this same hall and beside me, but not looking at me, stood my lover, Mr. Durand. How he came to know my state and find me in the general disturbance I did
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III. ANSON DURAND
III. ANSON DURAND
With benumbed senses and a dismayed heart, I stared at the fallen jewel as at some hateful thing menacing both my life and honor. “I have had nothing to do with it,” I vehemently declared. “I did not put the gloves in my bag, nor did I know the diamond was in them. I fainted at the first alarm, and—” “There! there! I know,” interposed the inspector kindly. “I do not doubt you in the least; not when there is a man to doubt. Miss Van Arsdale, you had better let your uncle take you home. I will see
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IV. EXPLANATIONS
IV. EXPLANATIONS
My love for Anson Durand died at sight of that crimson splash or I thought it did. In this spot of blood on the breast of him to whom I had given my heart I could read but one word—guilt—heinous guilt, guilt denied and now brought to light in language that could be seen and read by all men. Why should I stay in such a presence? Had not the inspector himself advised me to go? Yes, but another voice bade me remain. Just as I reached the door, Anson Durand found his voice and I heard, in the full,
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V. SUPERSTITION
V. SUPERSTITION
I had gone up stairs for my wraps—my uncle having insisted on my withdrawing from a scene where my very presence seemed in some degree to compromise me. Soon prepared for my departure, I was crossing the hall to the small door communicating with the side staircase where my uncle had promised to await me, when I felt myself seized by a desire to have another look below before leaving the place in which were centered all my deepest interests. A wide landing, breaking up the main flight of stairs s
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VI. SUSPENSE
VI. SUSPENSE
To relate the full experiences of the next few days would be to encumber my narrative with unnecessary detail. I did not see Mr. Durand again. My uncle, so amenable in most matters, proved Inexorable on this point. Till Mr. Durand’s good name should be restored by the coroner’s verdict, or such evidence brought to light as should effectually place him beyond all suspicion, I was to hold no communication with him of any sort whatever. I remember the very words with which my uncle ended the one ex
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VII. NIGHT AND A VOICE
VII. NIGHT AND A VOICE
Not to be outdone by the editor, I insert the article here with all its details, the importance of which I trust I have anticipated. SANTA FE, N.M., April—. Arrived in Santa Fe, I inquired where Abner Fairbrother could be found. I was told that he was at his mine, sick. Upon inquiring as to the location of the Placide, I was informed that it was fifteen miles or so distant in the mountains, and upon my expressing an intention of going there immediately, I was given what I thought very unnecessar
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VIII. ARREST
VIII. ARREST
The success of this interview provoked other attempts on the part of the reporters who now flocked into the Southwest. Ere long particulars began to pour in of Mr. Fairbrother’s painful journey south, after his illness set in. The clerk of the hotel in El Moro, where the great mine-owner’s name was found registered at the time of the murder, told a story which made very good reading for those who were more interested in the sufferings and experiences of the millionaire husband of the murdered la
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IX. THE MOUSE NIBBLES AT THE NET
IX. THE MOUSE NIBBLES AT THE NET
The next day saw me at police headquarters begging an interview from the inspector, with the intention of confiding to him a theory which must either cost me his sympathy or open the way to a new inquiry, which I felt sure would lead to Mr. Durand’s complete exoneration. I chose this gentleman for my confidant, from among all those with whom I had been brought in contact by my position as witness in a case of this magnitude, first, because he had been present at the most tragic moment of my life
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X. I ASTONISH THE INSPECTOR
X. I ASTONISH THE INSPECTOR
I was not the only one to tremble now. This man of infinite experience and daily contact with crime had turned as pale as ever I myself had done in face of a threatening calamity. “I shall see about this,” he muttered, crumpling the paper in his hand. “But this is a very terrible business you are plunging me into. I sincerely hope that you are not heedlessly misleading me.” “I am correct in my facts, if that is what you mean,” said I. “The stiletto is an English heirloom, and bears on its blade,
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XI. THE INSPECTOR ASTONISHES ME
XI. THE INSPECTOR ASTONISHES ME
But before I proceed to relate what happened at the end of those two weeks, I must say a word or two in regard to what happened during them. Nothing happened to improve Mr. Durand’s position, and nothing openly to compromise Mr. Grey’s. Mr. Fairbrother, from whose testimony many of us hoped something would yet be gleaned calculated to give a turn to the suspicion now centered on one man, continued ill in New Mexico; and all that could be learned from him of any importance was contained in a shor
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XII. ALMOST
XII. ALMOST
“This is your patient. Your new nurse, my dear. What did you say your name is? Miss Ayers?” “Yes, Mr. Grey, Alice Ayers.” “Oh, what a sweet name!” This expressive greeting, from the patient herself, was the first heart-sting I received,—a sting which brought a flush into my cheek which I would fain have kept down. “Since a change of nurses was necessary, I am glad they sent me one like you,” the feeble, but musical voice went on, and I saw a wasted but eager hand stretched out. In a whirl of str
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XIII. THE MISSING RECOMMENDATION
XIII. THE MISSING RECOMMENDATION
My patient slept that night, but I did not. The shock given by this sudden cry of Halt! at the very moment I was about to make my great move, the uncertainty as to what it meant and my doubt of its effect upon Mr. Durand’s position, put me on the anxious seat and kept my thoughts fully occupied till morning. I was very tired and must have shown it, when, with the first rays of a very meager sun, Miss Grey softly unclosed her eyes and found me looking at her, for her smile had a sweet compassion
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XIV. TRAPPED
XIV. TRAPPED
I caught my breath sharply. I did not say anything. I felt that I did not understand the inspector sufficiently yet to speak. He seemed to be pleased with my reticence. At all events, his manner grew even kinder as he said: “This Sears is a witness we must have. He is being looked for now, high and low, and we hope to get some clue to his whereabouts before night. That is, if he is in this city. Meanwhile, we are all glad—I am sure you are also—to spare so distinguished a gentleman as Mr. Grey t
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XV. SEARS OR WELLGOOD
XV. SEARS OR WELLGOOD
Not till the inspector had given several orders was I again summoned into his presence. He smiled as our eyes met, but did not allude, any more than I did, to what had just passed. Nevertheless, we understood each other. When I was again seated, he took up the conversation where we had left it. “The description I was just about to read to you,” he went on; “will you listen to it now?” “Gladly,” said I; “it is Wellgood’s, I believe.” He did not answer save by a curious glance from under his brows
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XVI. DOUBT
XVI. DOUBT
I prayed uncle that we might be driven home by the way of Eighty-sixth Street. I wanted to look at the Fairbrother house. I had seen it many times, but I felt that I should see it with new eyes after the story I had just heard in the inspector’s office. That an adventure of this nature could take place in a New York house taxed my credulity. I might have believed it of Paris, wicked, mysterious Paris, the home of intrigue and every redoubtable crime, but of our own homely, commonplace metropolis
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XVII. SWEETWATER IN A NEW ROLE
XVII. SWEETWATER IN A NEW ROLE
A few days later three men were closeted in the district attorney’s office. Two of them were officials—the district attorney himself, and our old friend, the inspector. The third was the detective, Sweetwater, chosen by them to keep watch on Mr. Grey. Sweetwater had just come to town,—this was evident from the gripsack he had set down in a corner on entering, also from a certain tousled appearance which bespoke hasty rising and but few facilities for proper attention to his person. These details
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XVIII. THE CLOSED DOOR
XVIII. THE CLOSED DOOR
The road was once the highway, but the tide having played so many tricks with its numberless bridges a new one had been built farther up the cliff, carrying with it the life and business of the small town. Many old landmarks still remained—shops, warehouses and even a few scattered dwellings. But most of these were deserted, and those that were still in use showed such neglect that it was very evident the whole region would soon be given up to the encroaching sea and such interests as are insepa
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XIX. THE FACE
XIX. THE FACE
The moon was well up when the small boat in which our young detective was seated with Mr. Grey appeared in the bay approaching the so-called manufactory of Wellgood. The looked-for light on the waterside was not there. All was dark except where the windows reflected the light of the moon. This was a decided disappointment to Sweetwater, if not to Mr. Grey. He had expected to detect signs of life in this quarter, and this additional proof of Wellgood’s absence from home made it look as if they ha
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XX. MOONLIGHT—AND A CLUE
XX. MOONLIGHT—AND A CLUE
“Are you satisfied? Have you got what you wanted?” asked Sweetwater, when they were well away from the shore and the voice they had heard calling at intervals from the chasm they had left. “Yes. You’re a good fellow. It could not have been better managed.” Then, after a pause too prolonged and thoughtful to please Sweetwater, who was burning with curiosity if not with some deeper feeling: “What was that light you burned? A match?” Sweetwater did not answer. He dared not. How speak of the electri
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XXI. GRIZEL! GRIZEL!
XXI. GRIZEL! GRIZEL!
I indulged in some very serious thoughts after Mr. Grey’s departure. A fact was borne in upon me to which I had hitherto closed my prejudiced eyes, but which I could no longer ignore, whatever confusion it brought or however it caused me to change my mind on a subject which had formed one of the strongest bases to the argument by which I had sought to save Mr. Durand. Miss Grey cherished no such distrust of her father as I, in my ignorance of their relations, had imputed to her in the early hour
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XXII. GUILT
XXII. GUILT
Was he Wellgood? Sears? Who? A lover of the woman certainly; that was borne in on us by the passion of his cry: “Grizel! Grizel!” But how here? and why such fury in Mr. Grey’s face and such amazement in that of the inspector? This question was not to be answered offhand. Mr. Grey, advancing, laid a finger on the man’s shoulder. “Come,” said he, “we will have our conversation in another room.” The man, who, in dress and appearance looked oddly out of place in those gorgeous rooms, shook off the s
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XXIII. THE GREAT MOGUL
XXIII. THE GREAT MOGUL
Later, it was all explained. Mr. Grey, looking like another man, came into the room where I was endeavoring to soothe his startled daughter and devour in secret my own joy. Taking the sweet girl in his arms, he said, with a calm ignoring of my presence, at which I secretly smiled: “This is the happiest moment of my existence, Helen. I feel as if I had recovered you from the brink of the grave.” “Me? Why, I have never been so ill as that.” “I know; but I have felt as if you were doomed ever since
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