"I HAVE COME TO SAY GOOD-BY," I SAID."I HAVE COME TO SAY GOOD-BY," I SAID.
"I have come to say good-by," I said.
"Oh, are you going—I did not know." She half rose; her face filled with lively concern.
"I'm afraid I've already overstayed mytime," I replied. "After all, Miss Temple, I came as a stranger and must thank you and your father for making me as welcome as you have under the existing painful circumstances."
"I have not thought of you as a stranger, Mr. Morgan," she answered simply. "You have been a great help during this trying ordeal, and I am sorry that you must go—very sorry." There was a ring of sincerity in her voice that thrilled me; my heart gave a leap, and, as I met her eyes, I realized all of a sudden that, go where I might, I could not yet go very far away from Muriel Temple. "I do not go because I desire it," I replied, in a voice from which I could not eliminate the depth and intensity of my feelings. "I am no longer needed here, and it is in the hope that I may perhaps be of some service to you in London that I have asked Sergeant McQuade's permission to accompany him there to-day. I have taken the deepest interestin this terrible affair, Miss Temple, and, if it lies in my power, I intend to find the solution of it. My reward, if I can do so, will be the knowledge that I have served you."
"You are very good, Mr. Morgan. I shall never forget it, never." She rose and placed her hand in mine, and allowed it to remain there for a moment—a moment which seemed far too short to me, since I had suddenly realized that I should be madly happy could I know that I would have the right to keep it there always. "And, when you have good news, you will come to The Oaks and tell us about it, will you not?" she concluded, with a smile that went to my heart.
"Indeed I shall, Miss Temple—you may be sure of that—and I hope it may be soon."
"So do I," she said, and I turned to leave her. Then I suddenly bethought myself of the strange Oriental perfume that hadclung so strongly to the handkerchief which the detective had found in the green room. I turned to her once more. "Miss Temple," I said, with some hesitation, "you will pardon me, I know, but you may remember that the handkerchief which was found in Mr. Ashton's room upon the morning of the—the tragedy, and which you thought you might have dropped there, was strongly scented with a powerful Oriental perfume. May I ask what that perfume is, and where you procured it?"
"Perfume?" she ejaculated, in surprise. "Why, Mr. Morgan, I never use any—never."
"You never use any?" I stammered. "But it was upon your handkerchief. I thought that perhaps you might have gotten it during your travels in China."
"The handkerchief was mine, Mr. Morgan—that is true. But of the perfume I know absolutely nothing. Why do you ask?"
I hardly knew what reply to make. The whole affair seemed absurdly trivial; the identity of the perfume of the soap, and of the handkerchief meant nothing, pointed to nothing, and yet I could not shake off the idea that there was some intimate connection between the perfume of the handkerchief and that of the soap which would go far toward solving the mystery of Robert Ashton's death. I bade her good-by with some simple explanation of my question, and hurried out to find McQuade. I understood that he intended going in to Exeter before luncheon, getting a bite to eat there, and taking the early afternoon express for London. I found him with one of his men upon the porch roof, busily engaged in making photographs of the bloody hand print upon the window sill of the green room. He came down presently and joined me.
"Is it not a curious fact, Mr. Morgan," he remarked, as he reached the foot of theshort ladder he had used to ascend to the roof, "that, although Li Min had not only the motive for the murder, namely, the securing of the emerald Buddha, but also the opportunity, inasmuch as he could readily have reached the porch roof from within the house by means of the hall window, and while the hand print which I have been photographing is small and delicate, like that of a woman, or indeed like that of Li Min himself, yet I have tested every possible human means whereby the windows and doors of that room could have been bolted after the crime was committed, and I can see no possible way in which it could have been done, unless either Major Temple or yourself did it upon entering the room, which you certainly would neither of you have any reason to do were Li Min the guilty person? In spite of many of the peculiarities of Miss Temple's conduct, in spite of Major Temple's altercation with Mr. Ashton, I have been prepared to believe all along that Li Min was on this roof at or near daybreak yesterday morning and I do not mind telling you that I have discovered certain evidence—evidence which had before escaped me, that to my mind proves it conclusively—yet how he could have entered that room, murdered Mr. Ashton, secured the jewel, climbed out of the window and shut and bolted it behind him on the inside is beyond my comprehension. It is not humanly possible—it simply cannot be." He shook his head and looked at me in a state of evident perplexity.
I felt unable to offer any suggestions of value, but I hazarded a question. "Have you searched the attic above the room?" I asked.
"Thoroughly," he replied. "The rafters have never been floored over. The lath and plaster of the ceiling are absolutely unbroken. As for the four walls, two of them are exterior walls, without openings, except the windows. One is the solid partition between the room and the hallway. The fourth is equally solid, and of brick, between the green room and a large closet adjoining it to the east, which has evidently been used as a sort of lumber room, and contains a collection of old furniture, carpets, etc., covered with dust half an inch deep. The dust-covered floor and the rusty lock both show that it has not been entered for a long time. The furniture belongs to the owners of the property, and was evidently placed there years ago when the property was offered for leasing."
"Then it would seem that we have exhausted all possible clews," I observed. I did not think it worth while to take him into my confidence regarding Li Min, or the perfumed soap; and the brass-headed poker which I had found, and which I had placed in the drawer in my room, I had for the moment completely forgotten.
"So it seems," he remarked, thoughtfully. "This is by long odds the strangestcase I have ever worked on. Possibly the two Chinamen we have in London may be able to throw some light upon it."
As we rounded the corner of the house, on our way to the front door, we suddenly saw Li Min dart out of the main entrance, closely pursued by the officer to whom I had entrusted my luggage. The Chinaman carried in his hand my Gladstone bag, and was running with incredible swiftness toward the road. Before I had time to make a move, McQuade darted forward and intercepted him, knocking from his hand with lightning-like quickness a long knife which he drew from his blouse. The two of them tumbled over upon the turf, McQuade rising first with my satchel in his hand. He looked at it, and seeing my name upon it handed it to me with a grim smile. "You must have a valuable kit here, Sir," he said, "or else this fellow has taken leave of his senses." He nodded to his assistant, who promptly stepped forward and snapped apair of handcuffs upon the sullen-looking Oriental.
"The whole outfit isn't worth five pounds," I said, laughing, and picked up the satchel. As I did so the catch came open and my small collection of flannel shirts, toilet articles, sketching materials, etc., tumbled upon the grass. McQuade joined in my laugh, and assisted me in replacing my effects. "Nothing much here, Sir," he said, but I did not fail to notice that he observed each article closely as we repacked the satchel.
We drove back to town in the high cart, with one of Major Temple's grooms at the reins beside me, and Li Min and the Sergeant upon the rear seat. After depositing the Chinaman at the jail, we took a hurried lunch at the Half Moon, and left for London on the early afternoon express, arriving at Waterloo station about dusk. I gave McQuade the address of my lodgings and studio in Tottenham Court Road, and, ashe intended reporting at once at Scotland Yard, I left him with the understanding that, if anything significant developed during his examination of the two Chinamen, he would advise me and call upon me if I could assist him in any way. I realized of course that I was purely an outsider, and in no position to expect the police to take me into their confidence, but on the other hand I was not only the most important witness in the case, but my keen interest in the solution of the mystery, for the purpose of clearing the names of both Miss Temple and her father from any vestige of suspicion, was not lost upon the Sergeant, and I think he realized that I might be of considerable assistance to him should the case take some unexpected turn. He hurried off in a hansom and I followed, stopping on my way at the Vienna Café for dinner. It was past eight when I arrived at my studio, and, throwing my bag into a corner I sat down and wrote a letter to my mother at Torquay, explaining to her my change of plans, although making no mention of the reasons which caused the change. I must have been unusually tired, owing to my early rise and the varied excitements of the day, for I dozed in my chair, and was not aroused until after eleven, when I heard a loud knock at the studio door. I sprang up, somewhat confused, and, opening the door, found under it an envelope containing a note, written on plain, rather cheap paper, in a somewhat irregular but legible hand. It was from McQuade, and requested me to meet him at once at Number 30, Kingsgate Street. There was nothing else in the note, so without further delay I threw on a warm coat and soft hat, and, hurrying to the street, summoned a cab. The driver looked a bit surprised at the address, and asked me to repeat it, which I did a bit sharply, then threw myself into the rear seat and lighted a cigarette. Events were moving quickly it seemed. McQuade, Ifelt sure would not have sent for me at this hour of the night unless some developments of importance had occurred. I rejoiced in the hope that the examination of the two Exeter Chinamen had resulted in the discovery of both the missing jewel and the murderer, and thought with pleasure of the expedition I should make on the morrow to The Oaks and the happy tidings I should bring to Muriel. I had thought of her so continuously, since leaving there, and felt so keenly the loss of her companionship, slight as it had so far been, that I knew that hereafter all roads, for me, would led to Exeter until the day came when I might led her from it as my wife. It was while occupied in these dreams that I felt my cab draw up alongside the curb, just as the hour of midnight was striking from Old St. Paul's. I dismissed my man with a shilling for his pains, and ascended the steps of Number 30.
The house was an old one, and its exterior was gloomy and forbidding. Not a light shone in its closely shuttered windows, and only over the transom of the door was there any visible sign of occupants within. Here a faintly burning oil lamp shone behind a cobwebby glass, with the number of the house painted upon it in black. The whole atmosphere of the place was depressing in the extreme, and I pulled the bell with feelings of inward trepidation. Without, all was silent and deserted, and the starless sky and the sighing of wind through the gloomy streets, from which my cab had long since departed, but added to my presentiments of evil. I had heard the faint jangle of a bell in the interior of the house when I pulled the knob, but so long an interval elapsed before any response came that I was on the point of ringing it again, when I suddenly heard soft footsteps in the hallway, and the door was silently opened. I stepped within, mechanically, unable to observe the person who had admitted me, owing to the fact that he or she, I knew not which, stood partially behind the door as it swung open and was therefore concealed by it. I had taken but a single step into the passage, when the door was swiftly closed behind me, and at the same instant a bag of heavy cloth was thrust over my head, and my arms were pinioned from behind in a vise-like grip. I attempted an outcry, and struggled violently, but the bag was drawn closely about my throat by a noose in the edge of it, and I felt myself being slowly, but surely, strangled.
It was but a few moments after midnight, when I entered the house in Kingsgate Street, and it must have been nearly or quite an hour before I finally removed the bag from my head and realized the nature of my surroundings. Immediately after the attack upon me, I was lifted bodily by two or three silent figures, and carried a considerable distance, part of the way down a steep flight of stairs, and through what from its damp and musty smell might have been a tunnel or cellar. Presently I heard the opening of a heavy door, and in a moment I was thrown roughly upon a bench, and my pockets were systematically searched. My captors evidently were not looking for money for the only things they took from mewere my keys. After this they left me, huddled up in a corner of the bench, afraid to cry out or make a move in any direction.
The room in which I now found myself was as silent as the tomb, and yet, from some subtle instinct, I felt that it was lighted brightly, and that there were others in it besides myself. I could feel that it was warm, and through the folds of the bag about my head came the acrid, half-sweet smell of opium or Chinese incense, or both. I realized at once that I was in the hands of some of Li Min's friends, and no doubt the note which purported to come from McQuade had been merely a decoy. How, I wondered, did they know my address? Possibly they had followed my cab from the station. I recollected now with vividness the interview I had witnessed, the afternoon before, between Li Min and some fellow countryman of his at the gateway in the hedge back of The Oaks. No doubt the crafty Oriental had in some way kept hisconfederates in London fully posted as to both my movements and those of Sergeant McQuade. What on earth they could want with me I was unable to imagine. I reached out softly with my right hand—I had not been bound—and touched a wall, hung with heavy embroidered satin. The bench upon which I sat was of hard polished wood. I reached up quickly, loosed the cord which held the bag tightly about my neck, and, with a swift motion, lifted it from my head.
The sight I beheld astounded me. I was in a long, low room, the bench upon which I sat being at the extreme end of it. The walls were hung from end to end with bright-colored satin, wonderfully embroidered with birds, flowers, dragons and strange Chinese characters. The floor was of wood, dark, and polished with the walking of many soft-shod feet. Facing me at the far end of the room was a great red-and-gold wooden screen, carved and lacquered, andrepresenting some mysterious Chinese figures, whether gods or demons I could not tell. In the center of this screen was an opening, a sort of altar, brightly lighted by a large number of wax candles within which hung a representation of the god Buddha, marvelously embroidered upon dull red satin, with gold and silver threads. Behind the candles stood a small gold casket, or shrine, the door of which was standing open, disclosing an empty interior. The altar in front of the candles was covered with a profusion of dishes containing flowers, rice and other foods. Before the altar knelt a tall, gaunt figure, his back turned toward me, bowed in prayer. He wore a long, dark-brown robe, girdled loosely about the waist with a leather belt, and his gray hair was confined in a long queue which hung below his waist. He took no notice whatever of my movements, and remained in silent contemplation of the picture of the god before him. A numberof sticks of incense were burning in a brass jar upon the altar, and the room was filled with a thin, waving blue haze, which circled softly around the great painted silk lanterns which hung from the ceiling. I felt as though I had been suddenly and mysteriously transported from a dark and gloomy London street to some wonderful temple in the far-off city of Pekin. I rubbed my eyes, and moved uneasily upon my hard bench, but no movement upon the part of the silent worshiper indicated that he so much as knew of my presence.
I endured the tension of the situation for several minutes in silence, and had about made up my mind to speak to the kneeling figure before me, when suddenly a door at my left was opened, and I observed two dark and forbidding-looking Chinamen enter, carrying between them a limp and apparently lifeless figure, which they placed upon the bench beside me. The figure was that of a man, and he was not blindfolded asI had been, and, as I bent over and glanced at his bloodless face, I recoiled, sick and trembling. It was Sergeant McQuade.
The Chinamen paid no attention to me, and quietly withdrew. I placed my hand upon the detective's heart, and was overjoyed to find that it still beat. I dragged him to a sitting position, and shook him, hoping to arouse him from his lethargy. In a few moments I saw his eyes slowly open, and he clutched feebly at his throat. I followed his movements and found a heavy cord about his neck, so tightly drawn as almost to prevent him from breathing. This I quickly removed, and in a few moments he was able to speak. His first words, after a glance of intense surprise at our surroundings, were to ask me why I had sent for him. I told him that I had not done so.
"But you sent me a note, asking me to come to this address at once, that you had important news. I have two men outside,but these devils got me before I could blow my whistle. Not much use to try it now," he observed, looking about grimly.
"I sent you no note," I replied. "On the contrary, I got one from you. That is why I am here."
"We are both nicely trapped, it seems," he growled. "I wonder what these fellows are up to. They have searched me, but they took nothing, so far as I can see. I can't figure the thing out at all. What have you learned—anything?" He turned to me with a quick look of interrogation.
"Nothing. They took my bunch of keys, and left me here about an hour ago. I am as much in the dark as you are."
"Your keys," he muttered, softly; "your keys. What could they have wanted with them?" He seemed lost in thought.
Our further conversation was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door on our left. Some score or more of Chinamen crowded in, and were at once joined by thefigure of the priest, who rose to his feet and advanced toward the center of the room. He was a terrible-looking old man, his face drawn and leathery, his eyes like burning coals, his mouth cruel and thin-lipped. All the others seemed to pay him deep respect. One of their number advanced and handed him a large object which he eagerly grasped. It was my Gladstone bag. McQuade and I glanced at each other in sudden comprehension. "It's my bag," I whispered to him. Now I knew at least why they had taken from me my keys.
The old priest placed the bag upon the floor and, kneeling beside it, proceeded to open it with eager, trembling hands. The others crowded about, every face tense and full of expectation. The kneeling figure proceeded slowly to remove and examine every article of clothing, throwing each one impatiently aside as he apparently failed to find that for which he sought. Presently his eye fell upon the small, greencake of soap which I had thrown loosely into the bag upon my departure from The Oaks. He seized it with a cry of triumph, and, taking a knife from his girdle, proceeded with extreme care to cut the cake of soap in two. The crowding figures about him hung upon his movements with intense anxiety. The room was as silent as death. I heard McQuade's muffled breathing as he watched the old man's every move, but I could see from the expression of his face that the scene meant no more to him than it did to me. Suddenly, with a loud cry, the priest broke the cake of soap in two, and there, within it, in a cavity about two inches long, lay the lost emerald Buddha, its wonderful color flashing and glowing in the light from the lantern above. I was absolutely dumb with amazement. Undeniably there before me lay the cause of Mr. Ashton's death, yet how it came to be in that cake of soap, and what light its presence there threw upon the manner of his suddenand tragic end, was beyond my comprehension. At least, however, I understood why Li Min had tried to make away with my satchel, but the fact that the presence of the jewel among my belongings might cause suspicion to point in my direction did not for the moment occur to me. It evidently did, however, to McQuade, as I before long had reason to know.
The kneeling priest rose to his feet with a glad cry, and, holding the image reverently in the hollow of his two hands, advanced toward the altar, the others crowding closely about him. Arrived at the shrine, he placed the figure carefully upon its pedestal within the golden casket, and, as the light of many candles fell full upon it, the whole crowd knelt down and began a weird sing-song prayer, that must have been a chant of joy, or some service of purification, now that their long-lost deity had been returned to them. Presently the strange sounds died away, and the various Chinamen placed offerings of fruit, flowers and food upon the altar. At length the priest rose, and faced us. The service was over. I had a feeling that our turn was now to come.
The tall, gaunt figure came close to us, and examined both our faces minutely. I fancy he was the same priest that Ashton had all but done for in Ping Yang, and, from his look of intense hatred and ferocity, I feel sure that, had he recognized McQuade or myself as either his assailant, or Major Temple, our moments in this life would have been numbered. He must of course have heard of Ashton's death, but no doubt he wanted to make sure that Ashton was actually the man who had so nearly strangled him. After completing his scrutiny of our far from happy faces, he drew back, and in answer apparently to the questions of his followers shook his head vigorously. Then ensued a heated altercation between himself and part of the Chinamen on the one handand the remainder of the crowd on the other, the subject of which, I could plainly see, was the fate of the detective and myself. At last they all turned back to the altar, and the priest took from it two pieces of wood, slightly curved, some four or five inches long, and shaped not unlike the half of a banana, if it were cut in two lengthwise: that is, round on one side and flat upon the other. I saw that they were the Chinese luck sticks, which the petitioner casts before the altar, wishing as he does so, for that prayer which he desires the god to grant him. If the sticks fall with the flat sides of both upward, he is lucky—his prayer is granted; if with the flat sides of both downward, his prayer is refused. If one stick falls each way, there is no decision and the trial is made again. As the priest took up these sticks from the altar, a gleam of comprehension passed over the faces of the crowd about him. Several of their number sprang forward and, seizing us bythe arms, dragged us before the altar. It was evidently their intention to leave the matter of our fate in the hands of the Buddha, and, as I glanced at the peaceful and beneficent face of the image before me, I wondered whether he, or blind luck, would control our destinies.
McQuade they took first. He was led directly in front of the altar, and the two sticks, placed with the flat sides, together, were put into his hands. He was then directed, by signs and a few muttered English words, to cast them upon the slab before the altar. He did so, not in the least understanding, I felt sure, what it was all about, and in a moment the hardwood sticks clattered before the altar. I leaned forward anxiously and looked at them. The flat sides of both were upward. McQuade was safe. The Chinamen thrust him aside angrily, and bent upon me their angry glances. I was pushed forward by many hands, and the luck sticks forced into myunwilling fingers. I had never thought much about death, and now it approached me in all its grisly terrors. McQuade had been spared my agony, for I felt sure he did not know the meaning of the ceremony through which he had just passed. He had thrown dice with death, and won, and yet he did not know it. But, to me, the trial came in all its horrible reality. I knew that upon the fall of those bits of wood depended my life, that within a few seconds of time I would either be free, or condemned to die by one of those unspeakably horrible means that only the Chinese understand and delight in. Their deity had been profaned and they wanted a victim, and, if his down-turned thumb claimed me as a sacrifice, I knew that no power on earth could save me. I shook with nervous dread—not so much through fear of death itself as of the manner of dying. My hands trembled; I could scarcely keep the sticks from falling to the floor. Presently Ipulled myself together and determined to put a brave face upon the matter. The Chinamen about me were evidently enjoying my sufferings keenly as I could see from the diabolic grins upon their dark faces. I threw the sticks from me with a quick nervous movement, and then almost feared to look upon them. At last I did so, and what I saw was almost as bad as what I feared to see. Instead of the two flat sides of the sticks being uppermost, they lay one each way, and I was forced to throw again. The Chinese were evidently delighted. Any method of torture which is prolonged seems to please them beyond measure. I have heard that one of the most terrible they have invented is that of keeping a prisoner awake. For days and days sleep is prevented—the victim ultimately goes raving mad.
I determined to end the matter at once. My nerves were too much shaken to prolong the agony. I cast the sticks againupon the altar slab and bent over them with a prayer to God. One stick fell at once with its flat side uppermost. The other rolled over and over until it rested almost at the Buddha's feet. At last it trembled, half turned over, then stopped. It, like the other, gave the favorable sign. I was saved. In the sudden relief from the nervous tension I almost fell, but the Chinamen, cheated of their revenge, gave me no time for any such exhibitions of emotion. McQuade and I were seized, and in a few moments our arms were tightly bound behind us, and heavy bags similar to the one I had worn were placed over our heads. We were then roughly hurried through a series of rooms, once crossing what seemed to be a brick-paved court, which was undoubtedly in the open air, from the sudden change of temperature I experienced; then for an interminable distance through what seemed to be dark, narrow lanes and muddy streets, until at last our hoods were removed,our feet bound, and we were thrown into a narrow area way, some cotton waste being jammed into each of our mouths to prevent our making any outcry. Here we were discovered at daybreak, some four or five hours later, nearly frozen to death, by a watchman, who released us from our bonds and, upon hearing from Sergeant McQuade who he was, hastened to find us a cab.
Our first step after it came was to drive to the nearest public house and get each a steaming drink of hot brandy, after which we ate a hasty breakfast. The detective, who seemed thoughtful and little inclined to talk, then drove at once to Number 30, Kingsgate Street, and, finding his two men still on duty, ordered them to enter the house. The bell was first rung several times without any response, and then McQuade and his men burst in the door. There were no lights within, and, when the long-closed shutters were at last forced open, it was seen at once that the house was completely unfurnished. We descended into the cellar, but found no signs of occupancy anywhere. The place had evidently been long closed. McQuade looked about in perplexity. Evidently there was a tunnel somewhere, leading from this house to some other in the neighborhood, or else the Chinamen had boldly carried us out through the backyard and into some house adjoining. The Sergeant explained the case to his men, ordered them to return to Scotland Yard, obtain a relief and investigate every house in the block, and even those on the opposite side of the street, since a tunnel might as well have led in that direction as any other. Personally I felt no great interest in the capture of the Chinamen. They had the emerald Buddha, it is true, but they had a better right to it than ever Ashton had, I fancy, and, now that he was dead, it seemed useless to bring trouble upon his relatives, in case he had any, by placing in their hands so dangerous an article. I was infinitelymore concerned in determining who was responsible for Robert Ashton's death, and I could not see that the events of the evening had thrown much light upon it. I left McQuade and returned to my studio, agreeing to meet him there at three the same afternoon, and return to The Oaks with him. Just why he intended returning there, or why he wished me to accompany him, I did not then see, but I was only too glad of an opportunity again to see Miss Temple. The detective seemed especially serious and taciturn, and, in reply to my questions as to the two Chinamen from Exeter, he informed me that they knew nothing of the matter and had been discharged. I went back to my studio in rather an unpleasant frame of mind, took a hot bath, and slept until luncheon.
I was sitting in my studio, at about half-past two that afternoon, awaiting McQuade's arrival, when a messenger boy dashed up to my door and handed me a telegram. I examined the pink slip with some curiosity, but no great interest, when, glancing, as is my habit, at the signature first, I was astounded to see that it was from Miss Temple. It was as follows:
"Police have discovered weapon in your room wrapped in your handkerchief."Muriel Temple."
"Police have discovered weapon in your room wrapped in your handkerchief.
"Muriel Temple."
So strong is the consciousness of innocence that even after reading this telegram I had no thought of what this new discovery might portend to me. It was strange, I thought,that I had forgotten the thing. But I remembered now that, when I first found it, Sergeant McQuade was in Exeter, and, when he returned, the entire evening until a late hour was taken up with Major Temple's account of his and Ashton's adventures in China. The next morning the coroner's inquest occupied all my thoughts, and then came Li Min's arrest and our hurried departure for London. Since then, I had had no opportunity to converse at any length with the detective. I laid the telegram open upon the table, thinking that, if the Scotland Yard man did not already know of the discovery, I would be able to inform him of it on his arrival.
He came on the stroke of three, and with him was a burly, deep-chested, ruddy-faced man, with twinkling eyes and iron-gray whiskers, whom he introduced to me as Inspector Burns, of Scotland Yard. I bade them be seated, and offered cigars, which they refused. Both seemed a trifle constrained, I thought. The Sergeant began the conversation.
"I have brought Inspector Burns with me," he said, slowly; "he wants to ask you a few questions."
I turned to the Inspector and smiled. I was quite ready to answer any questions that he might care to ask, and I so informed him.
"Mr. Morgan," he began, "about that cake of soap which, as the events of last night showed, contained the missing jewel cleverly hidden within it. Will you be so good as to tell Sergeant McQuade and myself how it happened to be in your possession?"
"Certainly," I replied, without hesitation. "I was in my room at Major Temple's house yesterday morning, and I heard someone moving about in the green room in which Mr. Ashton was killed. You are no doubt aware that the doors of the two rooms are directly opposite each other?"
"I know that," he replied, gravely.
"I saw, by looking into the mirror on my dresser, that the person in the other room was Major Temple's Chinese servant, Li Min. He seemed to me to be acting very suspiciously."
"What was he doing?" inquired the Inspector, with a look at Sergeant McQuade.
"Apparently he was searching the room for something—I could not, of course, tell what. I left my room and came upon him suddenly, whereupon he pretended to be busily engaged in setting the room to rights. I had noticed, immediately upon entering the room, a strong odor of perfume, a queer, Oriental perfume that at once attracted my attention, because—" I hesitated.
"Because of what?" asked the Inspector shortly.
"Because it was the same as that upon the handkerchief which Miss Temple had left in the room upon her visit there the night before, and which was found there by Sergeant McQuade the next day."
"What importance did you attach to that fact?"
"I do not know—I cannot say. There seems no explanation of the matter. But, at the time of which I speak, it struck me as being peculiar—I looked about and found that the perfume came from a cake of soap upon the washstand, near which I stood. It had evidently been left there by Mr. Ashton, and, being so natural and usual an object, must have been overlooked by the police when the room was searched."
"Why did you remove it?"
"Because I wished a means of identifying the perfume. I felt then, and still feel, that there was some intimate and unusual reason for the presence of that perfume upon Miss Temple's handkerchief."
"Mr. Morgan, why, since you were pretending to assist Sergeant McQuade by every means in your power to secure the missing jewel, and apprehend Mr. Ashton's murderer, did you fail to disclose to himthe facts that you have just related?" The Inspector's manner was increasingly uncompromising. "Did you have any reason to suspect that the jewel was hidden in the cake of soap?"
"None whatever. I did not mention the matter to the Sergeant because it seemed too vague and unimportant—it indicated nothing."
The Inspector frowned. "Of that you were perhaps not the best judge. You committed a grave error. I dislike to imply that it might have been anything worse." He glanced at a notebook he held in his hand. I began to feel indignant at the tone and manner in which he was conducting his cross-questioning.
"Is it not true, Mr. Morgan," he asked suddenly, "that Miss Temple was violently opposed to any marriage with Mr. Ashton, and that either his death, or the abstracting of the jewel which was to have been theprice paid by him for her hand, would have been of great benefit to her?"
"Miss Temple could have no hand in such an affair. It is preposterous!" I cried angrily.
"I do not imply that she could, or would." The Inspector was irritatingly calm. "I merely asked you if such an event or events would not have been to her benefit?"
"I suppose they would," I answered, sulkily, "if you put it that way."
"Did not Miss Temple ask you to assist her in preventing this marriage, Mr. Morgan, the night before the tragedy, and did you not promise to help her in every way in your power?"
"This is absurd," I cried, now thoroughly angry. "You will be accusing me of murdering Mr. Ashton next."
"So long as we have not done so, Mr. Morgan, you need not accuse yourself. We only know, so far, that the jewel for whichMr. Ashton was murdered has been found in your possession."
The significant way in which he uttered these words thrilled me with a vague sense of alarm. There upon the table, before Sergeant McQuade, lay Miss Temple's telegram. It was open, and I felt sure he had already read it. My mind seemed confused—my brain on fire. The Inspector turned to McQuade. "Sergeant," he said, "you have the handkerchief in question with you, I believe?"
McQuade nodded, then drew from his pocket a leather wallet, and, extracting the folded handkerchief from its recesses, spread it carefully upon the table. He then produced a magnifying glass from one of his pockets and requested me to examine the surface of the bit of cambric and lace. I did so, and observed that it was covered with minute particles of some green substances, some very small, others of considerable size. I did not at first realize what they were.
"Do you see anything?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes," I replied. "The handkerchief is full of fine green specks, but I cannot imagine what they are."
"They are bits of soap, Mr. Morgan," said the detective, as he folded up the handkerchief and replaced it in his wallet.
"Soap," I cried, more than ever mystified.
"Exactly!" The Inspector looked at me keenly. "Has it not occurred to you, Mr. Morgan, that in order to place the jewel inside the cake of soap, it was first necessary to cut it in two, and hollow out a space in the interior? Is it not also quite evident that anyone so hiding the jewel would perform this operation very carefully, so as to leave behind no traces, and that the bits of soap removed from the interior of the cake must have been carefully collected upon some object, this handkerchief, for instance, and subsequently thrown away, leaving theminute particles that you see still clinging to its surface?"
"Yes," I replied, dazed. "But who?"
"That, Mr. Morgan, is just what we are trying to find out. It hardly seems likely that Mr. Ashton would have gone to all this trouble, although it is possible, since he had reason, after his quarrel with Major Temple, to fear an attempt to gain possession of the jewel. If he did, how does it happen that he used Miss Temple's handkerchief for the purpose? He may of course have found it upon the floor and so utilized it, but it seems unlikely."
"What, then, seems more likely?" I asked, hotly. "Would the murderer have gone to all that trouble to get the stone, and then have left it behind?"
"Possibly, Mr. Morgan, to have been recovered at leisure—as you, indeed, happened to recover it. Such a jewel would not be a good thing to have in one's possession, immediately after the murder."
"But the operation of hiding the stone in the soap would have taken fifteen or twenty minutes at least," I objected, "and we burst in the door within less than ten minutes from the time Mr. Ashton's cry was heard."
"The alarm was given by you, Mr. Morgan. You alone heard Mr. Ashton's cry. Whether you heard it at six o'clock, or five, or four, rests upon your word alone. We do not accuse you, remember, we are trying to arrive at the truth. We do not imply that you hid the jewel any more than we imply that Miss Temple did so herself, and left her handkerchief behind as a mute witness of the fact. We do know that somebody did so, and the facts we have just stated, coupled with Miss Temple's refusal to explain her early expedition from the house that morning, all point to something we do not yet understand. With Miss Temple and yourself working together, much seems explainable that before seemeddark and mysterious. Even the closing of the window from within the green room may be explained, upon this hypothesis, for you had ample time to close it while Major Temple was examining Mr. Ashton's belongings in his frenzied search for the lost emerald. We are convinced of one thing: that the Chinaman did not commit the murder, for, had he done so, he would have taken the stone along with him, since that was the sole purpose he had in view."
"I do not agree with you there," I said. "Mr. Ashton may have hidden the jewel himself, and then the Chinaman, after committing the murder, may have been unable to find it. That would account for Li Min's subsequent search of the room, and his confederates' actions when they began to suspect, as Li Min no doubt did when he saw me remove the cake of soap, that the emerald was hidden within it."
"You are right in what you say, Mr. Morgan, if Mr. Ashton hid the jewel himself. But the subsequent actions of Li Min and his confederates are equally explainable upon the theory that they had nothing to do with the murder whatever, and were merely attempting to steal the jewel at the first opportunity."
I made no reply. They seemed to be weaving a net of circumstantial evidence about me that, try as I would, I did not seem able to break through.
"We have alluded," continued the Inspector, "to your sympathy with Miss Temple, to the use of her handkerchief to hold the bits of soap, to the fact that you alone heard Mr. Ashton's cry and alarmed the house, to your presence in the murdered man's room at a time when you could readily have bolted the window from within, to your strange failure to mention the matter of the cake of soap to Sergeant McQuade, and to the fact that the jewel was found in your possession. We now come to another curious fact, which we trust you may be ableto explain satisfactorily. The weapon with which this murder was apparently committed was found this morning, locked in a drawer in the room you occupied at Major Temple's house. It was wrapped in a handkerchief marked with your initials. Can you tell us how it came to be there?"
I turned to the Inspector with a bitter laugh. "I can tell you," I replied, "but, I presume, you will not believe me. I put the weapon, which was a brass-headed poker, there myself. I found it on the lawn outside of Mr. Ashton's window, the day before yesterday."
"Why did you also conceal this important piece of evidence from Sergeant McQuade?" demanded the Inspector in a stern voice.
I felt like a fool, and looked like one, as well, I fear. "I forgot it," I mumbled in confusion.
"You forgot it!" The Inspector believed that I was lying, and showed it."Can you expect a sane man to believe any such folly as that?"
"Folly, or not," I replied, "it is the truth. I found the poker the day before yesterday, late in the afternoon. I intended to show it privately to Sergeant McQuade. He was in Exeter at the time and I placed it in the drawer for safe keeping. When he returned that evening, it was just in time to listen to Major Temple's story of his experiences in China, and, when he had finished, it was close to midnight and the matter had completely slipped my mind. The inquest the following morning took my entire attention and, after that, the sudden arrest of Li Min, and our departure for London. You know what has occurred since. I had forgotten the matter completely until I received this telegram from Miss Temple not half an hour before you came." I took the dispatch from the table and handed it to the Inspector, who read it with interest.
"Why did Miss Temple send you this?" he inquired suddenly.
"I do not know—I suppose she thought it would be of interest to me."
"Did it not occur to you that it might be in the nature of a warning?"
Again I saw a chasm yawning before me. Every step in this miserable affair seemed to make matters look blacker and more sinister as far as I was concerned.
"Miss Temple has no reason to suspect me of any part in the matter," I replied. "Do you think it at all likely that, if I had committed the murder, I could have left such damning evidence as the weapon where the police would have been certain to discover it, and wrapped in my own handkerchief, to render my detection the easier? What is your theory of the crime, Inspector Burns, upon the present evidence? Reconstruct the events of that night as you think they might have occurred. I will not take it to heart if you do me any injustice, for Iam as innocent of any complicity in Mr. Ashton's murder as you are."
The Inspector seemed impressed by my words and manner. He looked at Sergeant McQuade, who nodded slightly. Then he transferred his gaze to me. "I have no objection, Mr. Morgan, to outlining a theory of the murder which seems to me to fit the facts as we know them. It may or may not be correct, but it is my plan to work out whatever theory will most nearly fit all the facts in my possession, and then test it from every standpoint until it either fails, or is proven true. I shall be obliged to you if you will indicate, when I have finished, any points which seem to you not to coincide with such evidence as we now have before us.
"Miss Temple," began the Inspector, "knew that Ashton had her letter in which she agreed to marry him in his possession, and she also knew that, if Ashton delivered the emerald to her father in the morning,she would be compelled to keep her word. She detested Ashton—the thought of marriage with him was unbearable to her. She retired to her room, but could not sleep. At some hour later, possibly shortly after midnight, as she says, she went to Mr. Ashton's room, and was admitted by him. She begged for the letter—he refused—a violent altercation ensued—in her rage she grasped the poker, and struck him with it. He fell, but she found, by feeling his heart, that he was not dead. She believed that she had only stunned him, and set to work to secure the jewel. After removing it from the case, she feared to take it from the room. She had no wish to steal it, but only to prevent Mr. Ashton from making use of it. She hit upon the plan of hiding it in the cake of soap. In half an hour the thing was done, and the pieces, collected upon her handkerchief, thrown out of the window. She then set about leaving the room, but, on again feeling Mr. Ashton's heart,she found it very weak. She feared the result of her blow. To destroy the evidence of what she had done, she threw the poker out of the window into the grass, and hurriedly left the room, forgetting the handkerchief in her agitation as she did so. She returned to her room, but was doubtless unable to sleep, in terror at her act. Toward morning she decided to leave the house and flee, and, with this object in view, changed her clothes and shoes, but once more went to Mr. Ashton's room, to assure herself that he no longer lived. In doing this, she awoke you, either by accident or design. You heard her story, she threw herself upon your mercy, and you agreed to stand by her; you advised her against running away, but suggested that she go down and get the poker, which she had thrown from the window, in order that it might be replaced in the room, or otherwise disposed of. This she did. You meanwhile entered the room, bolted the door on the inside, and left by the window. It is probable that you examined the body while in the room, and, unknown to yourself, your hand became stained with blood. On reaching the roof, you rested it upon the sill while closing the window with the other hand. You then re-entered the house by the hall window, meeting Miss Temple, who had secured the poker, and taking it from her. You placed it in your room, meanwhile urging her to retire to hers and change her dress and shoes. A little later you aroused the house with your cries and, upon entering the room, rebolted the window while Major Temple was not observing you. You later secured the cake of soap containing the jewel, as we know. You no doubt intended to replace the poker in the room at the first opportunity. None had occurred up to the time of your leaving the house, for the room was kept locked by the police until after the inquest. You entered it once, just before your departure, and secured the jewel, but Li Min's presence prevented you from replacing the poker."
As the Inspector concluded, he glanced at me triumphantly, as who should say—dispute it, if you can.
I laughed, though with little mirth. The Inspector seemed so convincingly right, and was so hopelessly wrong. "Why don't you simply say that I killed Ashton, and put the weapon in my dresser, and leave Miss Temple out of it entirely?" I said. "It's equally plausible."
"Possibly so, although that would account for neither the handkerchief, nor Miss Temple's leaving the house that morning."
"She has already accounted for the one: she can readily do so for the other," I replied.
"That we shall see," said the Inspector, rising from his chair. "We will go to Exeter at once, and question Miss Temple."
We arrived at Exeter at some time after eight in the evening, and it was close to nine before we made our appearance at The Oaks. Inspector Burns and his companion had left me to myself on the trip down, and I occupied my time with smoking and turning over in my mind the curious events of the past forty-eight hours. I had no serious apprehension of any trouble coming out of the matter to either Miss Temple or myself. I knew that the Inspector's theory was a tissue of errors, although the facts, as he stated them, did seem to fit in with his conclusions to an almost uncanny extent. It was true I had agreed to stand by Miss Temple and help her in her trouble. Our conversation onthe night of the murder had, I presumed, been overheard by one of the servants, from whom it had been wormed by McQuade's men during my absence. I began to believe that his willingness to have me accompany him to London was not entirely disinterested. But the thought that Muriel Temple could have delivered the blow that sent Robert Ashton to his death was preposterous. I knew that I was prejudiced in her favor, for her lovely face had scarce been out of my thoughts for a moment, since our first meeting. I knew that I had come to love her, that nothing could ever change it, and I realized that but two real bits of evidence connected her with Ashton's death—one, the presence of her handkerchief in the room and the curious use to which it had been put; the other, her early morning expedition from the house and her sudden return. The former she had explained, at least to my satisfaction, but the latter was still a mystery. If she would but explainthat, I felt sure that Inspector Burns' theory would fall to the ground like a house of cards. Why she refused to do so, I could not imagine—that she had some strong compelling reason, I felt sure. She had told me that she went out that morning, with the intention of going away and thus escaping the inevitable promise, which she knew her father would insist upon her ratifying, to Ashton. She got only as far as the end of the west wing, and hastily returned. Why?—that was the question. Did she see anyone on the roof—and, if so, whom? Someone she felt she must shield at any cost—there could be but one—her father. Had she then seen him there? Did she think for a moment that he had anything to do with Mr. Ashton's death? I could not believe that even for her father's sake she would allow an innocent person to be accused.
We drove up to Major Temple's door at about nine o'clock. It was quite dark, andvery cold. The house showed few lights, and it was some time before we were admitted by Gibson, the man who, with myself, had broken in Mr. Ashton's door. He ushered us into the library, where Major Temple sat smoking. I could see that he was suffering deeply. The affair of Mr. Ashton's death had told upon him, and he seemed nervous and constrained. He greeted us pleasantly enough, however, shook hands with the Inspector, and requested us to be seated. Sergeant McQuade, however, announced that we had come on business of importance, and that Inspector Burns desired to ask Miss Temple a few questions. Before doing so, however, he requested the Major to conduct us to the scene of the murder, which Inspector Burns had, of course, not had an opportunity, as yet, to examine. The Major rose. "My daughter has retired, I fancy," he said. "I have not seen her since dinner, but I will send her word." He summoned one of themaids and requested her to inform Miss Temple of our wishes, and then led the way to the green room. We were quite a party. The Major led the way with Inspector Burns, and I followed with McQuade, Major Temple's powerful mastiff, Boris, bringing up the rear. We first entered the room which I had occupied, McQuade using the key which he had obtained from the officer who had discovered the supposed weapon in my dresser drawer. The drawer was soon unlocked, and there lay the wretched poker wrapped in my handkerchief, just as I had left it. Inspector Burns took it up, examined it carefully then brandished it as though in the act of delivering a heavy blow. "Hardly heavy enough, I should think, to fracture a man's skull," he muttered, as he replaced it in the drawer. "It is evidently the upper half of a long poker which has been broken off." He turned to Major Temple."What do you know about this thing?" he inquired.
The Major looked puzzled. He had not seen the weapon before. I imagine the police had guarded its discovery carefully, and I wondered how Miss Temple came to know of it, in order to notify me.
"It is, as you say, half of an old poker," he replied. "It was used originally in the lower hall, and the lower end was burnt through, owing to its having been carelessly left in the fire one night. I gave it to the gardener. He wanted it to use as a stake in laying out his flower beds, and running the edges of the paths and roads while trimming the turf. He had a long cord, and a wooden stake for the other end. It has been roughly ground to a point, as you see, so that it might be readily thrust into the earth. The last time I saw it, he was using it upon the pathways about the house."
"Then it was not in the green room?"asked the Inspector in an aggrieved tone. He saw that his theory would already require some readjustments.
"Never, to my knowledge," said Major Temple. "There is no fireplace in that room, and it would have been of no use there."
The Inspector closed the drawer with a slam. "Then, if this was the weapon the murderer used," he said, rather lamely, "he must have taken it along with him. Let us have a look at the room."
We all adjourned to the green room, which the detective unlocked, and the Inspector went over the ground, as McQuade and I had done before him, without discovering anything new. The dark-brown spot upon the green carpet, which marked the place where the murdered man's head had rested, was still plainly visible, a grewsome reminder of the terrible tragedy which had been enacted there, but all else seemed ordinary and commonplace enough. The dog seemed strangely oppressed by the surroundings and, after sniffing about nervously with a low whine, crawled under the bed and lay quiet. We spent but a few minutes in the room and were just on the point of leaving, when the maid rushed in and, calling Major Temple aside, addressed a few low words to him, apparently in great agitation, at the same time handing him a sealed envelope. The Major took it from her, passed his hand nervously over his forehead, and turned to us. "Gentlemen," he said, in a frightened sort of a voice, "Miss Temple cannot be found."
We all turned toward him in intense surprise. "What does this mean?" asked the Inspector. "Where is she?"
"She has disappeared," replied the Major, as we hurriedly left the room, McQuade locking the door carefully after him. "Her maid tells me that she hassearched everywhere for her, and she cannot be found. This note, addressed to me, was lying upon her writing desk."
"Read it," commanded the Inspector, as we all hastily adjourned to the library.
Major Temple opened the letter with trembling fingers. My own agitation at this new development was equally great.
He glanced hurriedly through its contents, his face ashen, his lips blue, then read aloud as follows:
"My Dear Father:"I am going to London to see Mr. Morgan. They suspect him of the murder. I overheard the police talking about it this morning. I do not know what to do. I cannot let an innocent person suffer. It may be better for me to remain away altogether. If I must speak I can only ask for forgiveness."Muriel."
"My Dear Father:
"I am going to London to see Mr. Morgan. They suspect him of the murder. I overheard the police talking about it this morning. I do not know what to do. I cannot let an innocent person suffer. It may be better for me to remain away altogether. If I must speak I can only ask for forgiveness.
"Muriel."
If the earth had opened up and engulfed me, I could not have been more astounded than I was when Major Temple finished reading this strange letter. What on earth had she gone to London to see me for? The poor girl, I felt sure, was laboring under some terrible misapprehension. I, for one, had no fear of anything she could say. I glanced at her father. He seemed shrunken and old, his head bowed upon his breast. Could he—? I refused to think. Yet he either feared for himself, or—God help me!—for her. No other emotion, no consideration for anyone else, could have so terribly affected him. The note plainly enough meant that Miss Temple knew who had murdered Mr. Ashton, and she knew that it was not I. But would the police so regard it? I looked at the cold, accusing faces of the two Scotland Yard men and groaned inwardly. In a moment the Inspector spoke. "Have you a telephone in the house, Major Temple?" he asked.
"Yes," answered the Major, rousing himself from his lethargy. "In the hall, near the foot of the staircase."
The Inspector nodded to McQuade, who arose without a word and left the room. I knew that Muriel had not yet had time to reach London, that, when she did so, it would be to step into the arms of an officer. The net was fast closing about someone, but about whom I could not yet see. I was lost in a maze of conflicting thoughts.
"Mr. Morgan, have you anything to say in explanation of this letter?" I heard Major Temple asking me. His voice came to me as from afar off. I looked up and shook off my growing fears.
"Miss Temple writes as though she believed you would understand what she means," I replied. "I certainly do not."
"I!" cried the Major. "It's absolute nonsense to me. Why should she want to see you, unless you understood something between you? What does she know, thatshe should speak, and for what does she seek for forgiveness?" He threw up his hands in absolute dismay. If this were acting, I thought, it could not be better done by the most renowned actor on the boards.
"You remember, Major Temple, that your daughter refused to tell what it was she saw, or what happened, that caused her to return to the house so suddenly that morning. I advised her to speak—she refused. Had she come to me to-night, I should have given her the same advice as before. Nothing that she can say would harm me."
"Nor me," retorted Major Temple.
"Then whom, in Heaven's name?" I cried, speaking my thoughts aloud.
"You have heard my theory of the murder, Mr. Morgan," said the Inspector, coldly. "Why not herself? The note is plain enough. She will speak—she will confess and accuse herself before she will allow you to bear the penalty of her crime."
"Her crime!" Major Temple was onhis feet in an instant, his eyes blazing. "Your words are ill chosen, sir." Poor man, he did not know of the damning circumstances which the Inspector had so cleverly woven into his accusing theory.
"Not at all, Major Temple," replied the imperturbable Inspector. "Sergeant McQuade is at present ordering the arrest of your daughter. She will be apprehended as soon as she arrives in London, and we will hear her story at the Magistrate's hearing to-morrow."
"But," I cried, in consternation, "this is ridiculous. Don't you see that—?"
"Mr. Morgan, the time has come for the truth. It is my painful duty to place you under arrest."
"On what charge?" I demanded hotly.
"For complicity in Robert Ashton's murder," he replied, and placed his hand upon my shoulder.
I spent a dreary enough night, nor was I able to close my eyes in sleep. I sat upin the library through the long hours, sometimes talking with McQuade, who dozed upon a couch, but for the most part engaged in interminably revolving in my mind the maddening problem of Robert Ashton's death. I had begun to regard it as almost supernatural in its mysterious and devious phases. I thought of all the detective stories I had ever read and tried to piece out some points of resemblance, some similar events, which would serve as a starting point for a solution, but I could find none. In all these cases, the various clews led somewhere, but here they led to nothingness. There remained but Miss Temple's story, and that, like all the rest, I feared would fail to prove a solution of the mystery. That she herself was guilty and that her story would be in the nature of a confession, I refused to consider. I loved her and I could no more believe her guilty than I could have believed myself so; yet I could not help remembering the advice of thewitty Frenchman:cherchez la femme—seek the woman. The thing seemed monstrous, yet it persisted all through the long night.
I must have dozed, toward morning, for I dreamed that I was alone upon a wide field of ice, running madly forward toward a dim light that constantly receded as I approached it, and followed by a pack of hungry wolves. Their yelps and cries filled me with dread. I awoke trembling, and listened. Far off I heard the mournful howling of a dog, a series of low, unearthly howls, that would die slowly away only to be once more repeated. It seemed like the moaning of an animal in great pain. Presently, as I listened, there came a great yelp, and thereafter silence. After this I slept. About seven o'clock coffee was brought to us, and a little later we set out for the town.
We walked in, and did the short distance in less than twenty minutes. On arrival, we went at once to the headquarters of thepolice, where I made my first acquaintance with the interior of a cell. McQuade informed me that I would be taken before the Magistrate for a hearing at ten o'clock, and suggested that I had better employ counsel, but this I refused to do. I had made up my mind to tell the whole story as simply and exactly as I could and trust to the plain, unvarnished truth to see me out of my difficulties. I asked the detective upon our arrival if he had received any word regarding Miss Temple, and he told me that she would arrive during the forenoon. Major Temple and the servants were to come into the town a little later, in time for the hearing, at which they would be wanted as witnesses. I secured a morning paper and resigned myself to a tedious wait of somewhat over two hours. I was strangely calm and self-possessed. The ordeal through which I was about to pass seemed to give me but slight concern. But for Miss Temple I feared greatly.