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  X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION

  At an early hour the next morning, Sweetwater stood before the coroner'sdesk, urging a plea he feared to hear refused. He wished to be presentat the interview soon to be held with Mr. Brotherson, and he had no goodreason to advance why such a privilege should be allotted him.

  "It's not curiosity," said he. "There's a question I hope to seesettled. I can't communicate it--you would laugh at me; but it's animportant one, a very important one, and I beg that you will let me sitin one of the corners and hear what he says. I won't bother and I'llbe very still, so still that he'll hardly notice me. Do grant me thisfavour, sir."

  The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, surveyedhim with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow expected.

  "You seem to lay great store by it," said he; "if you want to sort thosepapers over there, you may."

  "Thank you. I don't understand the job, but I promise you not toincrease the confusion. If I do; if I rattle the leaves too loudly, itwill mean, 'Press him further on this exact point,' but I doubt if Irattle them, sir. No such luck."

  The last three words were uttered sotto voce, but the coroner heard him,and followed his ungainly figure with a glance of some curiosity, as hesettled himself at the desk on the other side of the room.

  "Is the man--" he began, but at this moment the man entered, and Dr.Heath forgot the young detective, in his interest in the new arrival.

  Neither dressed with the elegance known to the habitues of the Clermont,nor yet in the workman's outfit in which he had thought best to appearbefore the Associated Brotherhood, the newcomer advanced, with an aspectof open respect which could not fail to make a favourable impressionupon the critical eye of the official awaiting him. So favourable,indeed, was this impression that that gentleman half rose, infusing alittle more consideration into his greeting than he was accustomed toshow to his prospective witnesses. Such a fearless eye he had seldomencountered, nor was it often his pleasure to confront so conspicuous aspecimen of physical and intellectual manhood.

  "Mr. Brotherson, I believe," said he, as he motioned his visitor to sit.

  "That is my name, sir."

  "Orlando Brotherson?"

  "The same, sir."

  "I'm glad we have made no mistake," smiled the doctor. "Mr. Brotherson,I have sent for you under the supposition that you were a friend of theunhappy lady lately dead at the Hotel Clermont."

  "Miss Challoner?"

  "Certainly; Miss Challoner."

  "I knew the lady. But--" here the speaker's eye took on a look asquestioning as that of his interlocutor--"but in a way so devoid ofall publicity that I cannot but feel surprised that the fact should beknown."

  At this, the listening Sweetwater hoped that Dr. Heath would ignorethe suggestion thus conveyed and decline the explanation it apparentlydemanded. But the impression made by the gentleman's good looks had beentoo strong for this coroner's proverbial caution, and, handing over theslip of a note which had been found among Miss Challoner's effects byher father, he quietly asked:

  "Do you recognise the signature?"

  "Yes, it is mine."

  "Then you acknowledge yourself the author of these lines?"

  "Most certainly. Have I not said that this is my signature?"

  "Do you remember the words of this note, Mr. Brotherson?"

  "Hardly. I recollect its tenor, but not the exact words."

  "Read them."

  "Excuse me, I had rather not. I am aware that they were bitter andshould be the cause of great regret. I was angry when I wrote them."

  "That is evident. But the cause of your anger is not so clear, Mr.Brotherson. Miss Challoner was a woman of lofty character, or such wasthe universal opinion of her friends. What could she have done to agentleman like yourself to draw forth such a tirade?"

  "You ask that?"

  "I am obliged to. There is mystery surrounding her death;--the kind ofmystery which demands perfect frankness on the part of all who were nearher on that evening, or whose relations to her were in any way peculiar.You acknowledge that your friendship was of such a guarded nature thatit surprised you greatly to hear it recognised. Yet you could write hera letter of this nature. Why?"

  "Because--" the word came glibly; but the next one was long infollowing. "Because," he repeated, letting the fire of some strongfeeling disturb for a moment his dignified reserve, "I offered myself toMiss Challoner, and she dismissed me with great disdain."

  "Ah! and so you thought a threat was due her?"

  "A threat?"

  "These words contain a threat, do they not?"

  "They may. I was hardly master of myself at the time. I may haveexpressed myself in an unfortunate manner."

  "Read the words, Mr. Brotherson. I really must insist that you do so."

  There was no hesitancy now. Rising, he leaned over the table and readthe few words the other had spread out for his perusal. Then he slowlyrose to his full height, as he answered, with some slight display ofcompunction:

  "I remember it perfectly now. It is not a letter to be proud of. Ihope--"

  "Pray finish, Mr. Brotherson."

  "That you are not seeking to establish a connection between this letterand her violent death?"

  "Letters of this sort are often very mischievous, Mr. Brotherson. Theharshness with which this is written might easily rouse emotions ofa most unhappy nature in the breast of a woman as sensitive as MissChalloner."

  "Pardon me, Dr. Heath; I cannot flatter myself so far. You overrate myinfluence with the lady you name."

  "You believe, then, that she was sincere in her rejection of youraddresses?"

  A start, too slight to be noted by any one but the watchful Sweetwater,showed that this question had gone home. But the self-poise and mentalcontrol of this man were perfect, and in an instant he was facing thecoroner again, with a dignity which gave no clew to the disturbanceinto which his thoughts had just been thrown. Nor was this disturbanceapparent in his tones when he made his reply:

  "I have never allowed myself to think otherwise. I have seen no reasonwhy I should. The suggestion you would convey by such a question ishardly welcome, now. I pray you to be careful in your judgment of such awoman's impulses. They often spring from sources not to be sounded evenby her dearest friends."

  Just; but how cold! Dr. Heath, eyeing him with admiration rather thansympathy, hesitated how to proceed; while Sweetwater, peering up fromhis papers, sought in vain for some evidence of the bereaved loverin the impressive but wholly dispassionate figure of him who had justspoken. Had pride got the better of his heart? or had that organ alwaysbeen subordinate to the will in this man of instincts so varying, thatat one time he impressed you simply as a typical gentleman of leisure;at another, as no more than a fiery agitator with powers absorbed by,if not limited to the one cause he advocated; and again--and this seemedthe most contradictory of all--just the ardent inventor, living in atenement, with Science for his goddess and work always under his hand?As the young detective weighed these possibilities and marvelled overthe contradictions they offered, he forgot the papers now lyingquiet under his hand. He was too interested to remember his ownpart--something which could not often be said of Sweetwater.

  Meantime, the coroner had collected his thoughts. With an apology forthe extremely personal nature of his inquiry, he asked Mr. Brothersonif he would object to giving him some further details of hisacquaintanceship with Miss Challoner; where he first met her and underwhat circumstances their friendship had developed.

  "Not at all," was the ready reply. "I have nothing to conceal in thematter. I only wish that her father were present that he might listen tothe recital of my acquaintanceship with his daughter. He might possiblyunderstand her better and regard with more leniency the presumptioninto which I was led by my ignorance of the pride inherent in greatfamilies."

  "Your wish can very easily be gratified," returned the official,pressing an electric button on his desk.

  "Mr. Challoner
is in the adjoining room." Then, as the doorcommunicating with the room he had mentioned swung ajar and stoodso, Dr. Heath added, without apparent consciousness of the dramaticcharacter of this episode, "You will not need to raise your voice beyondits natural pitch. He can hear perfectly from where he sits."

  "Thank you. I am glad to speak in his presence," came in undisturbedself-possession from this not easily surprised witness. "I shall relatethe facts exactly as they occurred, adding nothing and concealingnothing. If I mistook my position, or Miss Challoner's position, itis not for me to apologise. I never hid my business from her, nor themoderate extent of my fortune. If she knew me at all, she knew me forwhat I am; a man of the people who glories in work and who has risenby it to a position somewhat unique in this city. I feel no lack ofequality even with such a woman as Miss Challoner."

  A most unnecessary preamble, no doubt, and of doubtful efficacy insmoothing his way to a correct understanding with the deeply bereavedfather. But he looked so handsome as he thus asserted himself and madeso much of his inches and the noble poise of his head--though cold ofeye and always cold of manner--that those who saw, as well as heard him,forgave this display of egotism in consideration of its honesty and thedignity it imparted to his person.

  "I first met Miss Challoner in the Berkshires," he began, after a momentof quiet listening for any possible sound from the other room. "I hadbeen on the tramp, and had stopped at one of the great hotels for aseven days' rest. I will acknowledge that I chose this spot at theinstigation of a relative who knew my tastes and how perfectly theymight be gratified there. That I should mingle with the guests may nothave been in his thought, any more than it was in mine at the beginningof my stay. The panorama of beauty spread out before me on every sidewas sufficient in itself for my enjoyment, and might have continuedso to the end if my attention had not been very forcibly drawn on onememorable morning to a young lady--Miss Challoner--by the very earnestlook she gave me as I was crossing the office from one verandah toanother. I must insist on this look, even if it shock the delicacy of mylisteners, for without the interest it awakened in me, I might not havenoticed the blush with which she turned aside to join her friends on theverandah. It was an overwhelming blush which could not have sprung fromany slight embarrassment, and, though I hate the pretensions of thoseegotists who see in a woman's smile more than it by right conveys, Icould not help being moved by this display of feeling in one so giftedwith every grace and attribute of the perfect woman. With less cautionthan I usually display, I approached the desk where she had beenstanding and, meeting the eyes of the clerk, asked the young lady'sname. He gave it, and waited for me to express the surprise he expectedit to evoke. But I felt none and showed none. Other feelings had seizedme. I had heard of this gracious woman from many sources, in my lifeamong the suffering masses of New York, and now that I had seen her andfound her to be not only my ideal of personal loveliness but seeminglyapproachable and not uninterested in myself, I allowed my fancy to soarand my heart to become touched. A fact which the clerk now confided tome naturally deepened the impression. Miss Challoner had seen my name inthe guest-book and asked to have me pointed out to her. Perhaps she hadheard my name spoken in the same quarter where I had heard hers. We havenever exchanged confidences on the subject, and I cannot say. I can onlygive you my reason for the interest I felt in Miss Challoner and why Iforgot, in the glamour of this episode, the aims and purposes of a notunambitious life and the distance which the world and the so-calledaristocratic class put between a woman of her wealth and standing and asimple worker like myself.

  "I must be pardoned. She had smiled upon me once, and she smiled again.Days before we were formally presented, I caught her softened lookturned my way, as we passed each other in hall or corridor. We werefriends, or so it appeared to me, before ever a word passed between us,and when fortune favoured us and we were duly introduced, our minds metin a strange sympathy which made this one interview a memorable oneto me. Unhappily, as I then considered it, this was my last day atthe hotel, and our conversation, interrupted frequently by passingacquaintances, was never resumed. I exchanged a few words with her byway of good-bye but nothing more. I came to New York, and she remainedin Lenox. A month after and she too came to New York."

  "This good-bye--do you remember it? The exact language, I mean?"

  "I do; it made a great impression on me. 'I shall hope for our furtheracquaintance,' she said. 'We have one very strong interest in common.'And if ever a human face spoke eloquently, it was hers at that moment.The interest, as I understood it, was our mutual sympathy for ourtoiling, half-starved, down-trodden brothers and sisters in the lowerstreets of this city; but the eloquence--that I probably mistook. Ithought it sprang from personal interest, and it gave me courage topursue the intention which had taken the place of every other feelingand ambition by which I had hitherto been moved. Here was a woman in athousand; one who could make a man of me indeed. If she could ignorethe social gulf between us, I felt free to take the leap. Cowardice hadnever been a fault of mine. But I was no fool even then. I realised thatI must first let her see the manner of man I was and what life meantto me and must mean to her if the union I contemplated should become anactual fact. I wrote letters to her, but I did not give her my addressor even request a reply. I was not ready for any word from her. I am notlike other men and I could wait. And I did, for weeks, then I suddenlyappeared at her hotel."

  The change of voice--the bitterness which he infused into this finalsentence made every one look up. Hitherto he had spoken calmly, almostmonotonously, as if no present heart-beat responded to this tale ofvanished love; but with the words, "Then I suddenly appeared at herhotel," he showed himself human again, and betrayed a passion whichthough curbed was of the fiery quality, befitting his extraordinaryattributes of mind and person.

  "This was when?" put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause whichmust have been very painful to the listening father.

  "The week after Thanksgiving. I did not see her the first day, and onlycasually the second. But she knew I was in the building, and when I cameupon her one evening seated at the very desk in the mezzanine which weall have such bitter cause to remember, I could not forbear expressingmyself in a way she could not misunderstand. The result was of a kind todrive a man like myself to an extremity of self-condemnation and rage.She rose up as if insulted, and flung me one sentence and one sentenceonly before she hailed the elevator and left my presence. A cur couldnot have been dismissed with less ceremony."

  "That is not like my daughter. What was the sentence you allude to? Letme hear the very words." Mr. Challoner had come forward and now stoodawaiting his reply, a dignified but pathetic figure, which all must viewwith respect.

  "I hate the memory of them, but since you demand it, I will repeat themjust as they fell from her lips," was Mr. Brotherson's bitter retort."She said, 'You of all men should recognise the unseemliness of theseproposals. Had your letters given me any hint of the feelings you havejust expressed, you would never have had this opportunity of approachingme.' That was all; but her indignation was scathing. Ladies who havesupped exclusively off silver, show a fine scorn for the common ware ofthe cottager."

  Mr. Challoner bowed. "There is some mistake," said he. "My daughtermight be averse to your addresses, but she would never show indignationto any aspirant for her hand, simply on account of extraneousconditions. She had wide sympathies--wider than I often approved.Something in your conduct or the confidence you showed shocked her nicersense; not your lack of the luxuries she often misprised. This muchI feel obliged to say, out of justice to her character, which wasuniformly considerate."

  "You have seen her with men of her own world and yours," was the harshresponse. "She had another side to her nature for the man of a differentsphere. And it killed my love--that you can see--and led to my sendingher the injudicious letter with which you have confronted me. The hurtbull utters one bellow before he dies. I bellowed, and bellowed loudly,but I did not die. I'm my own man still and
mean to remain so."

  The assertive boldness--some would call it bravado--with which he thusfinished the story of his relations with the dead heiress, seemed tobe more than Mr. Challoner could stand. With a look of extreme pain andperplexity he vanished from the doorway, and it fell to Dr. Heath toinquire:

  "Is this letter--a letter of threat you will remember--the onlycommunication which passed between you and Miss Challoner after thisunfortunate passage of arms at the Clermont?"

  "Yes. I had no wish to address her again. I had exhausted in this oneoutburst whatever humiliation I felt."

  "And she? Did she give no sign, make you no answer?"

  "None whatever." Then, as if he found it impossible to hide this hurt tohis pride, "She did not even seem to consider me worthy the honour of anadded rebuke. Such arrogance is, no doubt, commendable in a Challoner."

  This time his bitterness did not pass unrebuked by the coroner:

  "Remember the grey hairs of the only Challoner who can hear you, andrespect his grief."

  Mr. Brotherson bowed.

  "I have finished," said he. "I shall have nothing more to say on thesubject." And he drew himself up in expectation of the dismissal heevidently thought pending.

  But the coroner was not done with him by any means. He had a theory inregard to this lamentable suicide which he hoped to establish by thisman's testimony, and, in pursuit of this plan, he not only motioned toMr. Brotherson to reseat himself, but began at once to open a fresh lineof examination by saying:

  "You will pardon me, if I press this matter. I have been given tounderstand that notwithstanding your break with Miss Challoner, you havekept up your visits to the Clermont and were even on the spot at thetime of her death."

  "On the spot?"

  "In the hotel, I mean."

  "There you are right; I was in the hotel."

  "At the time of her death?"

  "Very near the time. I remember hearing some disturbance in the lobbybehind me, just as I was passing out at the Broadway entrance."

  "You did, and did not return?"

  "Why should I return? I am not a man of much curiosity. There was noreason why I should connect a sudden alarm in the lobby of the Clermontwith any cause of special interest to myself."

  This was so true and the look which accompanied the words was so frankthat the coroner hesitated a moment before he said:

  "Certainly not, unless--well, to be direct, unless you had just seenMiss Challoner and knew her state of mind and what was likely to followyour abrupt departure."

  "I had no interview with Miss Challoner."

  "But you saw her? Saw her that evening and just before the accident?"

  Sweetwater's papers rattled; it was the only sound to be heard in thatmoment of silence. Then--"What do you mean by those words?" inquired Mr.Brotherson, with studied composure. "I have said that I had no interviewwith Miss Challoner. Why do you ask me then, if I saw her?"

  "Because I believe that you did. From a distance possibly, but yetdirectly and with no possibility of mistake."

  "Do you put that as a question?"

  "I do. Did you see her figure or face that night?"

  "I did."

  Nothing--not even the rattling of Sweetwater's papers--disturbed thesilence which followed this admission.

  "From where?" Dr. Heath asked at last.

  "From a point far enough away to make any communication between usimpossible. I do not think you will require me to recall the exactspot."

  "If it were one which made it possible for her to see you as clearlyas you could see her, I think it would be very advisable for you to sayso."

  "It was--such--a spot."

  "Then I think I can locate it for you, or do you prefer to locate ityourself?"

  "I will locate it myself. I had hoped not to be called upon to mentionwhat I cannot but consider a most unfortunate coincidence. As agentleman you will understand my reticence and also why it is a matterof regret to me that with an acumen worthy of your position, you shouldhave discovered a fact which, while it cannot explain Miss Challoner'sdeath, will drag our little affair before the public, and possibly giveit a prominence in some minds which I am sure does not belong to it.I met Miss Challoner's eye for one instant from the top of the littlestaircase running up to the mezzanine. I had yielded thus far to animpulse I had frequently combated, to seek by another interview toretrieve the bad effect which must have been made upon her by my angrynote. I knew that she frequently wrote letters in the mezzanine at thishour, and got as far as the top of the staircase in my effort to joinher. But got no further. When I saw her on her feet, with her faceturned my way, I remembered the scorn with which she had received myformer heart-felt proposals and, without taking another step forward, Iturned away from her and fled down the steps and so out of the buildingby the main entrance. She saw me, for her hand flew up with a startledgesture, but I cannot think that my presence on the same floor with hercould have caused her to strike the blow which terminated her life.Why should I? No woman sacrifices her life out of mere regret for thedisdain she has shown a man she has taken no pains to understand."

  His tone and his attitude seemed to invite the concurrence of Dr. Heathin this statement. But the richness of the one and the grace of theother showed the handsome speaker off to such advantage that the coronerwas rather inclined to consider how a woman, even of Miss Challoner'sfine taste and careful breeding, might see in such a situation muchfor regret, if not for active despair and the suicidal act. He gave noevidence of his thought, however, but followed up the one admissionmade by Mr. Brotherson which he and others must naturally view as of thefirst importance.

  "You saw Miss Challoner lift her hand, you say. Which hand, and what wasin it? Anything?"

  "She lifted her right hand, but it would be impossible for me to tellyou whether there was anything in it or not. I simply saw the movementbefore I turned away. It looked like one of alarm to me. I felt that shehad some reason for this. She could not know that it was in repentance Icame rather than in fulfilment of my threat."

  A sigh from the adjoining room. Mr. Brotherson rose, as he heard it,and in doing so met the clear eye of Sweetwater fixed upon his own. Itslanguage was, no doubt, peculiar and it seemed to fascinate him for amoment, for he started as if to approach the detective, but forsookthis intention almost immediately, and addressing the coroner, gravelyremarked:

  "Her death following so quickly upon this abortive attempt of mine at aninterview startled me by its coincidence as much as it does you. If inthe weakness of her woman's nature, it was more than this--if the scornshe had previously shown me was a cloak she instinctively assumed tohide what she was not ready to disclose, my remorse will be as great asany one here could wish. But the proof of all this will have to be veryconvincing before my present convictions will yield to it. Some otherand more poignant source will have to be found for that instant'simpulsive act than is supplied by this story of my unfortunateattachment."

  Dr. Heath was convinced, but he was willing to concede something tothe secret demand made upon him by Sweetwater, who was bundling up hispapers with much clatter.

  Looking up with a smile which had elements in it he was hardly consciousof perhaps himself, he asked in an off-hand way:

  "Then why did you take such pains to wash your hands of the affair themoment you had left the hotel?"

  "I do not understand."

  "You passed around the corner into--street, did you not?"

  "Very likely. I could go that way as well as another."

  "And stopped at the first lamp-post?"

  "Oh, I see. Someone saw that childish action of mine."

  "What did you mean by it?"

  "Just what you have suggested. I did go through the pantomime of washingmy hands of an affair I considered definitely ended. I had resisted anirrepressible impulse to see and talk with Miss Challoner again, andwas pleased with my firmness. Unaware of the tragic blow which had justfallen, I was full of self-congratulations at my escape
from the charmwhich had lured me back to this hotel again and again in spite of mybetter judgment, and I wished to symbolise my relief by an act of whichI was, in another moment, ashamed. Strange that there should have beena witness to it. (Here he stole a look at Sweetwater.) Stranger still,that circumstances by the most extraordinary of coincidences, shouldhave given so unforeseen a point to it."

  "You are right, Mr. Brotherson. The whole occurrence is startling andmost strange. But life is made up of the unexpected, as none know betterthan we physicians, whether our practice be of a public or privatecharacter."

  As Mr. Brotherson left the room, the curiosity to which he had yieldedonce before, led him to cast a glance of penetrating inquiry behind himfull at Sweetwater, and if either felt embarrassment, it was not thehunted but the hunter.

  But the feeling did not last.

  "I've simply met the strongest man I've ever encountered," wasSweetwater's encouraging comment to himself. "All the more glory ifI can find a joint in his armour or a hidden passage to his cold,secretive heart."