I Say No Page 20

  CHAPTER XVIII. MISS LADD.

  Arriving at the cottage, Doctor Allday discovered a gentleman, who wasjust closing the garden gate behind him.

  "Has Miss Emily had a visitor?" he inquired, when the servant admittedhim.

  "The gentleman left a letter for Miss Emily, sir."

  "Did he ask to see her?"

  "He asked after Miss Letitia's health. When he heard that she was dead,he seemed to be startled, and went away immediately."

  "Did he give his name?"

  "No, sir."

  The doctor found Emily absorbed over her letter. His anxiety toforestall any possible discovery of the deception which had concealedthe terrible story of her father's death, kept Doctor Allday's vigilanceon the watch. He doubted the gentleman who had abstained from givinghis name; he even distrusted the other unknown person who had written toEmily.

  She looked up. Her face relieved him of his misgivings, before she couldspeak.

  "At last, I have heard from my dearest friend," she said. "You rememberwhat I told you about Cecilia? Here is a letter--a long delightfulletter--from the Engadine, left at the door by some gentleman unknown. Iwas questioning the servant when you rang the bell."

  "You may question me, if you prefer it. I arrived just as the gentlemanwas shutting your garden gate."

  "Oh, tell me! what was he like?"

  "Tall, and thin, and dark. Wore a vile republican-looking felt hat.Had nasty ill-tempered wrinkles between his eyebrows. The sort of man Idistrust by instinct."

  "Why?"

  "Because he doesn't shave."

  "Do you mean that he wore a beard?"

  "Yes; a curly black beard."

  Emily clasped her hands in amazement. "Can it be Alban Morris?" sheexclaimed.

  The doctor looked at her with a sardonic smile; he thought it likelythat he had discovered her sweetheart.

  "Who is Mr. Alban Morris?" he asked.

  "The drawing-master at Miss Ladd's school."

  Doctor Allday dropped the subject: masters at ladies' schools were notpersons who interested him. He returned to the purpose which had broughthim to the cottage--and produced the Handbill that had been sent to himin Emily's letter.

  "I suppose you want to have it back again?" he said.

  She took it from him, and looked at it with interest.

  "Isn't it strange," she suggested, "that the murderer should haveescaped, with such a careful description of him as this circulated allover England?"

  She read the description to the doctor.

  "'Name not known. Supposed age, between twenty-five and thirty years.A well-made man, of small stature. Fair complexion, delicate features,clear blue eyes. Hair light, and cut rather short. Clean shaven, withthe exception of narrow half-whiskers. Small, white, well-shaped hands.Wore valuable rings on the two last fingers of the left hand. Dressedneatly--'"

  "That part of the description is useless," the doctor remarked; "hewould change his clothes."

  "But could he change his voice?" Emily objected. "Listen to this:'Remarkably good voice, smooth, full, and persuasive.' And hereagain! 'Ingratiating manners.' Perhaps you will say he could put on anappearance of rudeness?"

  "I will say this, my dear. He would be able to disguise himself soeffectually that ninety-nine people out of a hundred would fail toidentify him, either by his voice or his manner."

  "How?"

  "Look back at the description: 'Hair cut rather short, clean shaven,with the exception of narrow half-whiskers.' The wretch was safe frompursuit; he had ample time at his disposal--don't you see how he couldcompletely alter the appearance of his head and face? No more, my dear,of this disagreeable subject! Let us get to something interesting. Haveyou found anything else among your aunt's papers?"

  "I have met with a great disappointment," Emily replied. "Did I tell youhow I discovered the Handbill?"

  "No."

  "I found it, with the scrap-book and the newspaper cuttings, undera collection of empty boxes and bottles, in a drawer of thewashhand-stand. And I naturally expected to make far more interestingdiscoveries in this room. My search was over in five minutes. Nothingin the cabinet there, in the corner, but a few books and some china.Nothing in the writing-desk, on that side-table, but a packet ofnote-paper and some sealing-wax. Nothing here, in the drawers, buttradesmen's receipts, materials for knitting, and old photographs. Shemust have destroyed all her papers, poor dear, before her last illness;and the Handbill and the other things can only have escaped, becausethey were left in a place which she never thought of examining. Isn't itprovoking?"

  With a mind inexpressibly relieved, good Doctor Allday asked permissionto return to his patients: leaving Emily to devote herself to herfriend's letter.

  On his way out, he noticed that the door of the bed-chamber on theopposite side of the passage stood open. Since Miss Letitia's death theroom had not been used. Well within view stood the washhand-standto which Emily had alluded. The doctor advanced to the housedoor--reflected--hesitated--and looked toward the empty room.

  It had struck him that there might be a second drawer which Emily hadoverlooked. Would he be justified in setting this doubt at rest? Ifhe passed over ordinary scruples it would not be without excuse. MissLetitia had spoken to him of her affairs, and had asked him to act (inEmily's interest) as co-executor with her lawyer. The rapid progressof the illness had made it impossible for her to execute the necessarycodicil. But the doctor had been morally (if not legally) taken into herconfidence--and, for that reason, he decided that he had a right in thisserious matter to satisfy his own mind.

  A glance was enough to show him that no second drawer had beenoverlooked.

  There was no other discovery to detain the doctor. The wardrobe onlycontained the poor old lady's clothes; the one cupboard was openand empty. On the point of leaving the room, he went back to thewashhand-stand. While he had the opportunity, it might not be amissto make sure that Emily had thoroughly examined those old boxes andbottles, which she had alluded to with some little contempt.

  The drawer was of considerable length. When he tried to pull itcompletely out from the grooves in which it ran, it resisted him. In hispresent frame of mind, this was a suspicious circumstance in itself. Hecleared away the litter so as to make room for the introduction of hishand and arm into the drawer. In another moment his fingers toucheda piece of paper, jammed between the inner end of the drawer and thebottom of the flat surface of the washhand-stand. With a little care, hesucceeded in extricating the paper. Only pausing to satisfy himselfthat there was nothing else to be found, and to close the drawer afterreplacing its contents, he left the cottage.

  The cab was waiting for him. On the drive back to his own house, heopened the crumpled paper. It proved to be a letter addressed toMiss Letitia; and it was signed by no less a person than Emily'sschoolmistress. Looking back from the end to the beginning, DoctorAllday discovered, in the first sentence, the name of--Miss Jethro.

  But for the interview of that morning with his patient he might havedoubted the propriety of making himself further acquainted with theletter. As things were, he read it without hesitation.

  "DEAR MADAM--I cannot but regard it as providential circumstance thatyour niece, in writing to you from my house, should have mentioned,among other events of her school life, the arrival of my new teacher,Miss Jethro.

  "To say that I was surprised is to express very inadequately what I feltwhen I read your letter, informing me confidentially that I had employeda woman who was unworthy to associate with the young persons placedunder my care. It is impossible for me to suppose that a lady in yourposition, and possessed of your high principles, would make such aserious accusation as this, without unanswerable reasons for doing so.At the same time I cannot, consistently with my duty as a Christian,suffer my opinion of Miss Jethro to be in any way modified, until proofsare laid before me which it is impossible to dispute.

  "Placing the same confidence in your discretion, which you have placedin mine, I now inclose th
e references and testimonials which Miss Jethrosubmitted to me, when she presented herself to fill the vacant situationin my school.

  "I earnestly request you to lose no time in instituting the confidentialinquiries which you have volunteered to make. Whatever the result maybe, pray return to me the inclosures which I have trusted to your care,and believe me, dear madam, in much suspense and anxiety, sincerelyyours,

  "AMELIA LADD."

  It is needless to describe, at any length, the impression which theselines produced on the doctor.

  If he had heard what Emily had heard at the time of her aunt's lastillness, he would have called to mind Miss Letitia's betrayal of herinterest in some man unknown, whom she believed to have been beguiledby Miss Jethro--and he would have perceived that the vindictive hatred,thus produced, must have inspired the letter of denunciation which theschoolmistress had acknowledged. He would also have inferred that MissLetitia's inquiries had proved her accusation to be well founded--ifhe had known of the new teacher's sudden dismissal from the school. Asthings were, he was merely confirmed in his bad opinion of Miss Jethro;and he was induced, on reflection, to keep his discovery to himself.

  "If poor Miss Emily saw the old lady exhibited in the character of aninformer," he thought, "what a blow would be struck at her innocentrespect for the memory of her aunt!"