XXVI
THE TELEGRAM
"I CANNOT say anything, I cannot do anything till I have had a few wordswith Mrs. Scoville. How soon do you think I can speak to her?"
"Not very soon. Her daughter says she is quite worn out. Would it not bebetter to give her a rest for to-night, judge?"
The judge, now quite recovered, but strangely shrunk and wan, showed nosurprise, at this request, odd as it was, on the lips of this honest butsomewhat crabbed lawyer, but answered out of the fulness of his ownheart and from the depths of his preoccupation:
"My necessity is greater than hers. The change I saw in her isinexplicable. One moment she was all fire and determination, satisfiedof Oliver's innocence and eager to proclaim it. The next--but you werewith us. You witnessed her hesitation--felt its force and what itseffect was upon the damnable scamp who has our honour--the honour of theOstranders under his tongue. Something must have produced this change.What? good friend, what?"
"I don't know any more than you do, judge. But I think you are mistakenabout the previous nature of her feelings. I noticed that she was not atpeace with herself when she came into the room."
"What's that?" The tone was short, and for the first time irritable.
"The change, if there was a change, was not so sudden as you think. Shelooked troubled, and as I thought, irresolute when she came into theroom."
"You don't know her; you don't know what passed between us. She was allright then, but--Go to her, Black. She must have recovered by this time.Ask her to come here for a minute. I won't detain her. I will wait forher warning knock right here."
Alanson Black was a harsh man, but he had a soft streak in him--a streakwhich had been much developed of late. Where he loved, he could beextraordinarily kind, and he loved, had loved for years, in his own waywhich was not a very demonstrative one, this man whom he was nowstriving to serve. But a counter affection was making difficulties forhim just at this minute. Against all probability, many would have saidpossibility, Deborah Scoville had roused in this hard nature, a feelingwhich he was not yet ready to name even to himself, but whichnevertheless stood very decidedly in his way when the judge made thisdemand which meant further distress to her.
But the judge had declared his necessity to be greater than hers, andafter Mr. Black had subjected him to one of his most searching looks hedecided that this was so, and quietly departed upon his errand. Thejudge left alone, sat, a brooding figure in his great chair, with nolight in heart or mind to combat the shadows of approaching nightsettling heavier and heavier upon the room and upon himself with everyslow passing and intolerable minute.
At last, when the final ray had departed and darkness reigned supreme,there came a low knock on the door. Then a troubled cry:
"Oh, judge, are you here?"
"I am here."
"Alone and so dark?"
"I am always alone, and it is always dark. Is there any one with you?"
"No, sir. Shall I make a light?"
"No light. Is the door quite shut?"
"No, judge."
"Shut it."
There came the sound of a hand fumbling over the panels, then a quicksnap.
"It is shut," she said.
"Don't come any nearer; it is not necessary." A pause, then the quickquestion ringing hollow from the darkness, "Why have your doubtsreturned? Why are you no longer the woman you were when not an hour agoand in this very spot you cried, 'I will be Oliver's advocate!'" Then,as no answer came,--as minutes passed, and still no answer came, hespoke again and added: "I know that you are ill and exhausted--brokenbetween duty and sympathy; but you must answer me, Mrs. Scoville. Myaffairs won't wait. I must know the truth and all the truth before thisday is over."
"You shall." Her voice sounded hollow too and oh, how weary! "Youallowed the document you showed me to remain a little too long before myeyes. That last page--need I say it?"
"Say it."
"Shows--shows changes, Judge Ostrander. Some words have been erased andnew ones written in. They are not many, but--"
"I understand. I do not blame you, Deborah." The words came after apause and very softly, almost as softly as her own BUT which had soundedits low knell of doom through the darkness. "Too many stumbling-blocksin your way, Deborah, too much to combat. The most trusting heart mustgive way under such a strain. That page WAS tampered with. I tamperedwith it myself. I am not expert at forgery. I had better have left it,as he wrote it." Then after another silence, he added, with a certainvehemence: "We will struggle no longer, either you or I. The boy mustcome home. Prepare Reuther, or, if you think best, provide a place forher where she will be safe from the storm which bids fair to wreck ushere. No, don't speak; just ask Mr. Black to return, will you?"
"Judge--"
"I understand. Mr. Black, Deborah."
Slowly she moved away and began to grope for the door. As her hand fellon the knob she thought she heard a sob in those impenetrable depthsbehind her; but when she listened again, all was still; still as ifmerciful death and not weary life gave its significance to thesurrounding gloom.
Shuddering, she turned the knob and paused again for rebuff or command.Neither came; and, realising that having spoken once the judge would notspeak again, she slipped softly away, and the door swung to after her.
When Mr. Black re-entered the study, it was to find the room lighted andthe judge bent over the table, writing.
"You are going to send for Oliver?" he queried.
The judge hesitated, then motioning Black to sit, said abruptly:
"What is Andrews' attitude in this matter?"
Andrews was Shelby's District Attorney.
Black's answer was like the man.
"I saw him for one minute an hour ago. I think, at present, he isinclined to be both deaf and dumb, but if he's driven to action, he willact. And, judge, this man Flannagan isn't going to stop where he is."
"Black, be merciful to my misery. What does this man know? Have you anyidea?"
"No, judge, I haven't. He's as tight as a drum,--and as noisy. It ispossible--just possible that he's as empty. A few days will tell."
"I cannot wait for a few days. I hardly feel as if I could wait a fewhours. Oliver must come, even if--if the consequences are likely to befatal. An Ostrander once accused cannot skulk. Oliver has been accusedand--Send that!" he quickly cried, pulling forward the telegram he hadbeen writing.
Mr. Black took up the telegram and read:
Come at once. Imperative. No delay and no excuse.
ARCHIBALD OSTRANDER.
"Mrs. Scoville will supply the address," continued the poor father. "Youwill see that it goes, and that its sending is kept secret. The answer,if any is sent, had better be directed to your office. What do you say,Black?"
"I am your friend, right straight through, judge. Your friend."
"And my boy's adviser?"
"You wish that?"
"Very much."
"Then, there's my hand on it, unless he wishes a change when we seehim."
"He will not wish any change."
"I don't know. I'm a surly fellow, judge. I have known you all theseyears, yet I've never expressed--never said what I even find it hard tosay now, that--that my esteem is something more than esteem; that--thatI'll do anything for you, judge."
"I--we won't talk of that, Black. Tell Mrs. Scoville to keep meinformed--and bring me any message that may come. The boy, even if heleaves the first thing in the morning, cannot get here before to-morrownight."
"Not possibly."
"He will telegraph. I shall hear from him. O God! the hours I must wait;my boy! my boy!"
It was nature's irrepressible cry. Black pressed his hand and went outwith the telegram.
BOOK III
THE DOOR OF MYSTERY