One of My Sons Read online

  V

  HOPE

  This was the proper moment for me to leave, or rather it would havebeen had it not been for the communication in my pocket which remainedto be delivered. To go without fulfilling my duty in this regard or atleast without stating to the coroner that I held in charge a paper ofso much importance, seemed an improper if not criminal proceeding,while to speak, and thus give up to public perusal an enclosure uponthe right delivery of which the dying man laid such stress, struck meas an equal breach of trust only to be justified by my total inabilityto carry out the wish of the deceased as expressed to me in his lastintelligible appeal.

  That this inability was an assured fact I was not yet convinced. Anidea had come to me in the last few minutes which, if properly actedupon, might open a way for me out of this dilemma. But before makinguse of it I felt it necessary to know more of this family and the tieswhich bound them. To gain this knowledge was, therefore, of not onlygreat but immediate importance; and where could I hope to gain it sosoon or so well as here.

  I consequently lingered, and the young medical friend of George,having for some reason shown the same disregard as myself to the openhint thrown out by the coroner, we drew together near the front door,and fell immediately into conversation. As he seemed on fire to speak,I left it for him to make the opening remark.

  "Fine girl!" he exclaimed. "Very fond of her uncle. Used to help himwith his correspondence. I hate to see women faint. Though I have beenin practice now two years I have never got used to it."

  Anxious as I was to understand the very relationship he hinted at, itwas so obnoxious to me to discuss Miss Meredith with this man whom Ihad first seen in a condition little calculated to prejudice me in hisfavour, that somewhat inconsistently, I own, I turned the conversationupon Mr. Gillespie.

  "Mr. Gillespie was then a very busy man," I observed. "I judged sofrom the look of his den or study. Overwork often drives men tosuicide."

  The glance this called out from the now thoroughly sobered youngdoctor was a sharp one.

  "Yes," he acquiesced; but it was an acquiescence which, from the tonein which it was uttered, had a most suspicious ring.

  My position had now become an embarrassing one. I looked around forthe coroner, and saw him talking earnestly with the old and enfeebledbutler, who seemed ready to sink with distress. At the same instant,the rattling of two keys could be heard in their several locks. Thedining-room was being closed against intrusion, and it was to thecoroner the keys were brought.

  Miss Meredith, who had been carried into an adjoining room, wasslowly recovering. This was evident from the countenance and attitudeof Alfred Gillespie, who stood half in and half out of the room, withhis eyes fixed upon her face. This left the hall clear, and, as mycompanion chose to preserve silence, I presently could hear the storythe old butler was endeavouring to relate.

  "I was waiting on the table as usual, sir, and it was my hand whichuncorked the bottle and set it down before Mr. Gillespie. The younggentlemen had nothing to do with that bottle; they did not even touchit, for none of them seemed inclined to drink. Mr. George said he hada headache, and Mr. Leighton, well, he makes a point of not touchingport; while Mr. Alfred gave no excuse; simply waved it away when Ipassed it, so that the old gentleman drank alone. He didn't seem tofeel quite happy, sir, and that was why Miss Meredith got so excited.She never could bear to see her uncle displeased with her cousins."

  "And where is that bottle of port and the glass out of which Mr.Gillespie drank at the table?"

  "O, sir, you must excuse me, sir, but--but--I drank what was left inthat bottle. I often do when there is only a little left. Masterdidn't mind. He often said, if he was in the mood to remember me, 'Youmay finish that, Hewson,' and though he did not say it to-night, Imade so bold as to remember the times he had. You see I have lived fortwenty years in the family. I was a young man when Mr. Gillespie tookme into his service first, and we had become used to each other'sways. As for the glass, that was washed, sir, long ago. He was wellenough up to nine o'clock, you see, sir."

  "Or until after he had taken the sherry?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Which you also brought him?"

  "No, sir; I took it out of the buffet, sir; but it was Mr. Leightonwho carried it into the den. He rang for me from the dining-room, andwhen I came up he asked for his father's bottle of sherry, and I gaveit to him. Then I went downstairs again."

  "And _that_ bottle has not been found?"

  "I have not seen it, sir. Perhaps someone else has. It was not a fullone. He had had a glass or two out of it before."

  "You have not said where the glass came from, from which Mr. Gillespiedrank the sherry?"

  "From the buffet also. We always keep a supply in one of the lowercupboards, sir."

  "Did you take it out?"

  "I think so, sir."

  "Did you take the first one you came to and hand it directly to Mr.Leighton?"

  "I believe so."

  "Was the room light or dark? Could you see plainly where to lay yourhand, or did you have to feel about for a glass?"

  "I don't remember it as being any too light. There was only onegas-jet turned on, and the room is a big one. But I saw the glassesplainly enough. I know just where to find them, you see, sir."

  "Very good. Then you probably noticed whether the one you took out wasclean."

  "They are always clean. I wear my spectacles when I wash them." Theold butler seemed quite indignant.

  "Yes, yes; then you have to wear spectacles?"

  "When I wipe the glasses? Yes, sir."

  The coroner pushed the matter no further. I think he feared it wouldseem like an attempt to fix the guilt on Leighton. Besides, he had notime to do so, for at this moment Miss Meredith appeared on thethreshold of the room into which she had been carried, and, pausingthere, stood looking up and down the hall with an ardent anddisquieted gaze which Alfred, who had started aside at her approach,tried in vain to draw upon himself.

  "Claire? Where is Claire?" she asked. "I want to put her to bed."

  "Here she is," answered Leighton, coming from the drawing-room withthe child fast asleep on his shoulder. "Take her, Hope, and be carefulnot to wake her. Better lay her down as she is than have herfrightened again."

  Hope held out her arms. I was startled at her aspect. "Miss Meredithis not able as yet to carry the child upstairs," spoke up the doctor;but the child was already nestled against her breast.

  "I can carry her," she assured him, drawing her head back as thefather stooped to kiss the child.

  "Are you sure?" asked Alfred.

  "Quite." Her arms had closed spasmodically over the child.

  "Let me go with you," he prayed. But catching the coroner's eye, hequickly added, "that is, if you feel the need of any assistance."

  Apparently she did not, for next minute I saw her faltering figureproceeding up alone, while the scowl which had begun to form onGeorge's forehead had smoothed out, and only Alfred showeddiscomfiture.

  The next minute the coroner had concentrated the attention of us allby saying gravely to the three young men before him:

  "You, as sons of Mr. Gillespie, will surely see the justice of mymaking an immediate attempt to find out how and when your father tookthe poison, which, to all appearance, has ended his invaluable life."Then, as no one replied, he added quietly:

  "A bottle is missing; the bottle of sherry from which he drank a glasssince supper. Will you grant me leave to search the house till I findit? So little time has passed, it must assuredly be somewhere withinreach."

  "I can tell you where it is," rejoined one of the brothers. "I wanteda drink. I had friends upstairs, and I came down and carried off thefirst bottle I saw. You will find it in my room above. We all drankour share, so there can have been no harm in it."

  It was George who spoke, and I now saw why his lips had moved whenthis bottle was first mentioned.

  The coroner showed relief, yet made a movement singularly like asignal towards the rea
r hall which I had supposed vacant since theservants had been sent out of it. That he was speaking in the meantimedid not detract from the suggestiveness of the gesture.

  "You and your friends drank of it?" he repeated. "Very good. Thatsettles one doubt." And he waited, or appeared to wait, for some eventconnected, as I felt sure, with the step we all could now hear movingin that hall.

  Suddenly these steps grew louder, and a young man, evidently as muchof a stranger to the occupants of the house as to myself, approachedfrom the servants' staircase with a bottle in his hand.

  Quietly the coroner took it, quietly he held it up before the lastspeaker, without attempting to explain or to apologise in any way forthe presence of the man of whom he had just made such dramatic use.

  "Is this the bottle you mean?"

  That young gentleman nodded.

  The coroner held the bottle up to the light. Only a few drops remainedin it. These he both smelled and tasted.

  "You are right," said he, "the contents of this bottle seem pure." Andhe handed it back to the man, who immediately carried it out of sight.

  Leighton looked as if he would like to demand who this fellow was, buthe did not. Indeed it seemed hardly necessary. His confident manner,his alert eye which took us all in at a glance, satisfied us that theevent we had all dreaded had transpired, and that a detective hadentered the house.

  Noticing, but not heeding, the effect which this unwelcome intruderhad produced upon the proud trio he held under his eye, Dr. Frisbieproceeded with the questions naturally called forth by theacknowledgment made by George.

  "You were on this floor, then, previous to your father's death,possibly previous to his taking the draught which has so unfortunatelyended his life?"

  "I was on this floor an hour or so ago; yes, sir."

  "Did you see your father or anyone else at that time?"

  "No. To tell you the truth, I was a little ashamed of my errand. Itwas early in the evening for the social glass, so I just took thebottle off the buffet and went back."

  "And the glasses?"

  "Oh, I always have enough of them in my room."

  The coroner's hand went in characteristic action to his chin.Evidently he found his position difficult.

  "No poison in this bottle," he declared. "None in the one your oldbutler drained, and, so far as we are able to judge, none in the phialof chloral found standing on the study mantelpiece! Yet your fatherdied from taking prussic acid. Cannot one of you assist me in sayinghow this came about? It will save us unnecessary trouble and the housesome scandal."

  It was an appeal which the sons of Mr. Gillespie could little affordto ignore. Yet while each and all of them paled under the searchinggaze which accompanied it, none of them spoke till the silencebecoming unendurable, Leighton made an extraordinary effort andremarked:

  "My father was a proud man. If he chose--I say, if he chose to end histroubles in this unfortunate way, he would plan to leave behind him nosign of an act calculated to bring such opprobrium upon hishousehold. He would have acted under the hope that his death would betaken as the result of his late sickness. That is doubtless why youfail to find the phial from which the poison was poured."

  "Hum! Yes! I see. Your father had troubles, then?"

  The answer was unexpected.

  "My father had three sons, none of whom gave him unalloyed comfort. Isnot this true, George? Is not this true, Alfred?"

  Startled by the sudden appeal which, coming as it did from a man ofgreat personal pride, produced an effect thrilling to the spectatorsas well as to the men addressed, the brothers flushed deeply, butventured upon no protest.

  "You and father have always been on good enough terms," growledGeorge, with an attempt at fairness which gained point from the doggedair with which it was given.

  This brought a shadow over the face which a moment before had shonewith something like lofty feeling.

  "I cannot forget that we quarrelled an hour before he died," murmuredLeighton, moving off with an air of great depression.

  Meantime I had taken a resolution. Advancing from the remote end ofthe hall where I had been standing with their young medical friend, Ispoke up firmly, calmly, but with decision:

  "Gentlemen, I have been waiting to see what my duty was. I have reasonto think, notwithstanding my position as a stranger among you, thatthe clue to your father's strange act is to be found in my hands. Willyou allow me, before explaining myself further, to request your answerto a single question?"

  The surprise which this evoked, was shared by the coroner, whoprobably thought he had exhausted my testimony at our first interview.

  "It is a question which will strike you as strange and out of place ata time so serious. But I pray you to show your confidence in me bygiving me a straightforward reply. Was Mr. Gillespie a man of dramaticinstincts? Had he any special powers of mimicry, or, if I may speakplainly, had he what you might call marked facial expression?"

  In the astonishment this called out I saw no dissent.

  "Father was a man of talent," Alfred grudgingly allowed. "I have oftenheard Claire laugh at his stories, which she said were like littleplays. But this is a peculiar if not inappropriate question to put tous at a time of such distress, Mr. Outhwaite."

  "So I forewarned you," I rejoined, turning to the coroner. "Dr.Frisbie, I must throw myself upon your clemency. When I entered thishouse in response to an appeal from Mr. Gillespie's grandchild, Ifound that gentleman labouring under great mental as well as physicaldistress. He was anxious, more than anxious, to have some special wishcarried out; and being tongue-tied, found great difficulty inindicating what this was. But after many efforts, he made meunderstand that I was to take from him a paper which he held in hisclenched hand; and when I had done so, that I was to enclose it,folded as it was, in one of the envelopes lying on the table beforeus. Not seeing any reason then for non-compliance with his wishes, Iaccomplished this under his eye, and then asked him for the name andaddress of the person for whom this communication was intended; but bythis time his faculties had failed to such an extent, he could notpronounce the name. He could only ejaculate: 'To no one else--onlyto--to--' Alas! he could not finish the sentence. But, gentlemen,while waiting here I have been enabled to complete in my own mind thisfinal attempt at speech on the part of your father. Anxious to make nomistake (for the impression made by his dying adjuration not todeliver this letter into the wrong hands, was no ordinary one), I havenot allowed myself to be moved by any hurried or inconsiderateimpulse, to part with this communication even to those whose claimsupon it might be considered paramount to those of a mere stranger likemyself. But since seeing Miss Meredith, above all since hearing youaddress her by her name of Hope, I cannot help feeling justified inbelieving that this final communication from Mr. Gillespie's hand wasmeant for her. For when in my perplexity I pressed him to give me somesign by which I could make out whether it was intended for his doctor,his lawyer, or his household, he roused and his face showed anelevated look which I now feel compelled to regard as a dramaticattempt to express in action the name he could no longer utter.Gentlemen, I have described his action. What name among those you areaccustomed to speak best fits it?"

  "Hope," was the simultaneous reply.

  "So I have presumed to think." And turning to Dr. Frisbie, I added: "Ihave been told that this young lady was in her uncle's confidence.Will you allow me to deliver this envelope to Miss Meredith, inaccordance with the injunction I firmly believe myself to havereceived from Mr. Gillespie?"

  There was a silence during which no movement was made. Then thecoroner replied:

  "Yes, if it is done in my presence."

  I turned again to the young gentlemen.

  "Commiserate my position and send for Miss Meredith," I prayed. "Ifeel bound to place this in her hands myself. If I make a mistake inthus interpreting the look given me by your father, it will at leastbe made under your eye and from unquestionable motives. With mylimited knowledge of the family, I know of no one who ha
s a betterclaim to this communication than she. Do you?"

  None of them attempted a reply.

  Dr. Bennett had already gone up for Miss Meredith.