I Say No Page 11

  CHAPTER X. GUESSES AT THE TRUTH.

  "What are we to do next? Oh, Mr. Morris, you must have seen all sorts ofpeople in your time--you know human nature, and I don't. Help me with aword of advice!"

  Emily forgot that he was in love with her--forgot everything, but theeffect produced by the locket on Mrs. Rook, and the vaguely alarmingconclusion to which it pointed. In the fervor of her anxiety she tookAlban's arm as familiarly as if he had been her brother. He was gentle,he was considerate; he tried earnestly to compose her. "We can donothing to any good purpose," he said, "unless we begin by thinkingquietly. Pardon me for saying so--you are needlessly exciting yourself."

  There was a reason for her excitement, of which he was necessarilyignorant. Her memory of the night interview with Miss Jethro hadinevitably intensified the suspicion inspired by the conduct of Mrs.Rook. In less than twenty-four hours, Emily had seen two women shrinkingfrom secret remembrances of her father--which might well be guiltyremembrances--innocently excited by herself! How had they injured him?Of what infamy, on their parts, did his beloved and stainless memoryremind them? Who could fathom the mystery of it? "What does it mean?"she cried, looking wildly in Alban's compassionate face. "You _must_have formed some idea of your own. What does it mean?"

  "Come, and sit down, Miss Emily. We will try if we can find out what itmeans, together."

  They returned to the shady solitude under the trees. Away, in front ofthe house, the distant grating of carriage wheels told of the arrival ofMiss Ladd's guests, and of the speedy beginning of the ceremonies of theday.

  "We must help each other," Alban resumed.

  "When we first spoke of Mrs. Rook, you mentioned Miss Cecilia Wyvil asa person who knew something about her. Have you any objection to tell mewhat you may have heard in that way?"

  In complying with his request Emily necessarily repeated what Ceciliahad told Francine, when the two girls had met that morning in thegarden.

  Alban now knew how Emily had obtained employment as Sir Jervis'ssecretary; how Mr. and Mrs. Rook had been previously known to Cecilia'sfather as respectable people keeping an inn in his own neighborhood;and, finally, how they had been obliged to begin life again in domesticservice, because the terrible event of a murder had given the inn a badname, and had driven away the customers on whose encouragement theirbusiness depended.

  Listening in silence, Alban remained silent when Emily's narrative hadcome to an end.

  "Have you nothing to say to me?" she asked.

  "I am thinking over what I have just heard," he answered.

  Emily noticed a certain formality in his tone and manner, whichdisagreeably surprised her. He seemed to have made his reply as a mereconcession to politeness, while he was thinking of something else whichreally interested him.

  "Have I disappointed you in any way?" she asked.

  "On the contrary, you have interested me. I want to be quite sure thatI remember exactly what you have said. You mentioned, I think, that yourfriendship with Miss Cecilia Wyvil began here, at the school?"

  "Yes."

  "And in speaking of the murder at the village inn, you told me that thecrime was committed--I have forgotten how long ago?"

  His manner still suggested that he was idly talking about what shehad told him, while some more important subject for reflection was inpossession of his mind.

  "I don't know that I said anything about the time that had passed sincethe crime was committed," she answered, sharply. "What does the murdermatter to _us?_ I think Cecilia told me it happened about four yearssince. Excuse me for noticing it, Mr. Morris--you seem to have someinterests of your own to occupy your attention. Why couldn't you say soplainly when we came out here? I should not have asked you to help me,in that case. Since my poor father's death, I have been used to fightthrough my troubles by myself."

  She rose, and looked at him proudly. The next moment her eyes filledwith tears.

  In spite of her resistance, Alban took her hand. "Dear Miss Emily," hesaid, "you distress me: you have not done me justice. Your interestsonly are in my mind."

  Answering her in those terms, he had not spoken as frankly as usual. Hehad only told her a part of the truth.

  Hearing that the woman whom they had just left had been landlady of aninn, and that a murder had been committed under her roof, he was led toask himself if any explanation might be found, in these circumstances,of the otherwise incomprehensible effect produced on Mrs. Rook by theinscription on the locket.

  In the pursuit of this inquiry there had arisen in his mind a monstroussuspicion, which pointed to Mrs. Rook. It impelled him to ascertainthe date at which the murder had been committed, and (if the discoveryencouraged further investigation) to find out next the manner in whichMr. Brown had died.

  Thus far, what progress had he made? He had discovered that the date ofMr. Brown's death, inscribed on the locket, and the date of the crimecommitted at the inn, approached each other nearly enough to justifyfurther investigation.

  In the meantime, had he succeeded in keeping his object concealedfrom Emily? He had perfectly succeeded. Hearing him declare that herinterests only had occupied his mind, the poor girl innocently entreatedhim to forgive her little outbreak of temper. "If you have any morequestions to ask me, Mr. Morris, pray go on. I promise never to thinkunjustly of you again."

  He went on with an uneasy conscience--for it seemed cruel to deceiveher, even in the interests of truth--but still he went on.

  "Suppose we assume that this woman had injured your father in someway," he said. "Am I right in believing that it was in his character toforgive injuries?"

  "Entirely right."

  "In that case, his death may have left Mrs. Rook in a position to becalled to account, by those who owe a duty to his memory--I mean thesurviving members of his family."

  "There are but two of us, Mr. Morris. My aunt and myself."

  "There are his executors."

  "My aunt is his only executor."

  "Your father's sister--I presume?"

  "Yes."

  "He may have left instructions with her, which might be of the greatestuse to us."

  "I will write to-day, and find out," Emily replied. "I had alreadyplanned to consult my aunt," she added, thinking again of Miss Jethro.

  "If your aunt has not received any positive instructions," Albancontinued, "she may remember some allusion to Mrs. Rook, on yourfather's part, at the time of his last illness--"

  Emily stopped him. "You don't know how my dear father died," she said."He was struck down--apparently in perfect health--by disease of theheart."

  "Struck down in his own house?"

  "Yes--in his own house."

  Those words closed Alban's lips. The investigation so carefully and sodelicately conducted had failed to serve any useful purpose. He had nowascertained the manner of Mr. Brown's death and the place of Mr. Brown'sdeath--and he was as far from confirming his suspicions of Mrs. Rook asever.