VI
ACROSS THE BRIDGE
It was ten o'clock, not later, when the judge re-entered his front door.He was alone,--absolutely alone, as he had never been since that nightof long ago, when with the inner fence completed and the gates alllocked, he turned to the great negro at his side and quietly said:
"We are done with the world, Bela. Are you satisfied to share thissolitude with me?" And Bela had replied: "Night and day, your honour.And when you are not here,--when you are at court, to bear it alone."
And now this faithful friend was dead, and it was he who must bear italone,--alone! How could he face it! He sought for no answer, nor did heallow himself to dwell for one minute on the thought. There wassomething else he must do first,--do this very night, if possible.
Taking down his hat from the rack he turned and went out again, thistime carefully locking the door behind him, also the first gate. But hestopped to listen before lifting his hand to the second one.
A sound of steady breathing, accompanied by a few impatient movements,came from the other side. A man was posted there within a foot of thegate. Noiselessly the judge recoiled, and made his way around to theother set of gates. Here all was quiet enough, and sliding quickly out,he cast a hasty glance up and down the lane, and seeing nothing morealarming than the back of a second officer lounging at the corner,pulled the gate quietly to, and locked it.
He was well down the road towards the ravine, before the officer turned.
The time has now come for giving you a clearer idea of this especialneighbourhood. Judge Ostrander's house, situated as you all know at thejuncture of an unimportant road with the main highway, had in its rearthree small houses, two of them let and one still unrented. Farther on,but on the opposite side of the way, stood a very old dwelling in whichthere lived and presumably worked, a solitary woman, the sole and finalsurvivor of a large family. Beyond was the ravine, cutting across theroad and terminating it. This ravine merits some description.
It was a picturesque addition to the town through which it cut at thepoint of greatest activity. With the various bridges connecting theresidence portion with the lower business streets we have nothing to do.But there was a nearer one of which the demands of my story necessitatea clear presentation.
This bridge was called Long, and spanned the ravine and its shallowstream of water not a quarter of a mile below the short road or lane wehave just seen Judge Ostrander enter. Between it and this lane, a narrowpath ran amid the trees and bushes bordering the ravine. This path wasseldom used, but when it was, it acted as a short cut to a certain partof the town mostly given over to factories. Indeed the road of whichthis bridge formed a part was called Factory on this account. Startingfrom the main highway a half mile or so below Ostrander Lane, it randiagonally back to the bridge, where it received a turn which sent itsouth and east again towards the lower town. A high bluff rose at thispoint, which made the farther side of the ravine much more imposing thanthe one on the near side where the slope was gradual.
This path, and even the bridge itself, were almost wholly unlighted.They were seldom used at night--seldom used at any time. But it was bythis route the judge elected to go into town; not for the pleasure ofthe walk, as was very apparent from the extreme depression of hismanner, but from some inward necessity which drove him on, against hiswishes, possibly against his secret misgivings.
He had met no one in his short walk down the lane, but for all that, hepaused before entering the path just mentioned, to glance back and seeif he were being watched or followed. When satisfied that he was not, helooked up, from the solitary waste where he stood, to the cheerlessheavens and sighed; then forward into the mass of impenetrable shadowthat he must yet traverse and shuddered as many another had shudderedere beginning this walk. For it was near the end of this path, in fullsight of the bridge he must cross, that his friend, Algernon Etheridge,had been set upon and murdered so many years before; and the shadow ofthis ancient crime still lingered over the spot, deepening its naturalgloom even for minds much less sympathetic and responsive to spiritualinfluences than Judge Ostrander.
But this shudder, whether premonitory or just the involuntary tribute offriend to friend, did not prevent his entering the path or following itsline of shadow as it rose and dipped in its course down the gorge.
I have spoken of the cheerlessness of the heavens. It was one of thosenights when the sky, piled thick with hurrying clouds, hangs above onelike a pall. But the moon, hidden behind these rushing masses, was atits full, and the judge soon found that he could see his way better thanhe had anticipated--better than was desirable, perhaps. He had been onthe descent of the path for some little time now, and could not be farfrom the more level ground which marked the approach to Long Bridge.Determined not to stop or to cast one faltering look to right or left,he hurried on with his eyes fixed upon the ground and every nerve bracedto resist the influence of the place and its undying memories. But withthe striking of his foot against the boards of the bridge, nature wastoo much for him, and his resolve vanished. Instead of hastening on, hestopped; and, having stopped, paused long enough to take in all thefeatures of the scene, and any changes which time might have wrought. Heeven forced his shrinking eyes to turn and gaze upon the exact spotwhere his beloved Algernon had been found, with his sightless eyesturned to the sky.
This latter place, singular in that it lay open to the opposite bankwithout the mask of bush or tree to hide it, was in immediate proximityto the end of the bridge he had attempted to cross. It bore the name ofDark Hollow, and hollow and dark it looked in the universal gloom. Butthe power of its associations was upon him, and before he knew it, hewas retracing his steps as though drawn by a magnetism he could notresist, till he stood within this hollow and possibly on the very footof ground from the mere memory of which he had recoiled for years.
A moment of contemplation--a sigh, such as only escapes the burstingheart in moments of extreme grief or desolation--and he tore his eyesfrom the ground to raise them slowly but with deep meaning to where thehigh line of trees on the opposite side of the ravine met the grey vaultof the sky. Darkness piled itself against darkness, but with adifference to one who knew all the undulations of this bluff and justwhere it ended in the sheer fall which gave a turn to the road at thefarther end of the bridge.
But it was not upon the mass of undistinguishable tree-tops or the linethey made against the sky that his gaze lingered. It was on somethingmore material; something which rose from the brow of the hill in starkand curious outline not explainable in itself, but clear enough to onewho had seen its shape by daylight. Judge Ostrander had thus seen itmany times in the past, and knew just where to look for the oneremaining chimney and solitary gable of a house struck many years beforeby lightning and left a grinning shell to mock the eye of all who walkedthis path or crossed this bridge.
Black amid blackness, with just the contrast of its straight lines tothe curve of natural objects about it, it commanded the bluff, summoningup memories of an evil race cut short in a moment by an outragedProvidence, and Judge Ostrander marking it, found himself mutteringaloud as he dragged himself slowly away: "Why should Time, sodestructive elsewhere, leave one stone upon another of this accursedruin?"
Alas! Heaven has no answer for such questions.
When he had reached the middle of the bridge, he stopped short to lookback at Dark Hollow and utter in a smothered groan, which would not berepressed, a name which by all the rights of the spot should have beenAlgernon's, but was not.
The utterance of this name seemed to startle him, for, with a shudderinglook around, he hastily traversed the rest of the bridge, and took theturn about the hill to where Factory Road branched off towards the town.Here he stopped again and for the first time revealed the true nature ofhis destination. For when he moved on again it was to take the roadalong the bluff, and not the one leading directly into town.
This meant a speedy passing by the lightning-struck house. He knew thisof course, and evidently s
hrunk from the ordeal, for once up the hilland on the level stretch above, he resolutely forbore to cast a glanceat its dilapidated fence and decayed gate posts. Had he not donethis--had his eyes followed the long line of the path leading from thesetoppling posts to the face of the ruin, he would have been witness to astrange sight. For gleaming through the demolished heart of it,--betweenthe chimney on the one side and the broken line of the gable on theother--could be seen the half circle of the moon suddenly released fromthe clouds which had hitherto enshrouded it. A weird sight, to be seenonly when all conditions favoured. It was to be seen here to-night; butthe judge's eye was bent another way, and he passed on, unnoting.
The ground was high along this bluff; almost fifty feet above the levelof the city upon, which he had just turned his back. Of stony formationand much exposed to the elements, it had been considered an undesirablesite by builders, and not a house was to be seen between the brokenshell of the one he had just left, and the long, low, brilliantlyilluminated structure ahead, for which he was evidently making. Thesight of these lights and of the trees by which the house wassurrounded, suggested festival and caused a qualm of indecision tomomentarily disturb him in his purpose. But this purpose was too strong,and the circumstances too urgent for him to be deterred by anything lesspotent than a stroke of lightning. He rather increased his pace thanslackened it and was rewarded by seeing lamp after lamp go out as heapproached.
The pant of a dozen motors, the shouting of various farewells and thenthe sudden rushing forth of a long line of automobiles, proclaimed thatthe fete of the day was about over and that peace and order would soonprevail again in Claymore Inn.
Without waiting for the final one to pass, the judge slid around to therear and peered in at the kitchen door. If Mrs. Yardley were the womanhe supposed her to be from the sergeant's description, she would be justthen in the thick of the dish-washing. And it was Mrs. Yardley he wishedto see.
Three women were at work in this busiest of scenes, and, deciding at aglance which was the able mistress of the house, he approached thelarge, pleasant and commanding figure piling plates at the farther endof the room and courteously remarked:
"Mrs. Yardley, I believe?"
The answer came quickly, and not without a curious smile of constraint:
"Oh, no. Mrs. Yardley is in the entry behind."
Bowing his thanks, he stepped in the direction named, just as the threewomen's heads came simultaneously together. There was reason for theirwhispers. His figure, his head, his face, were all unusual, and at thatmoment highly expressive, and coming as he did out of the darkness, hispresence had an uncanny effect upon their simple minds. They had beenlaughing before; they ceased to laugh now. Why?
Meanwhile, Judge Ostrander was looking about him for Mrs. Yardley. Thequiet figure of a squat little body blocked up a certain doorway.
"I am looking for Mrs. Yardley," he ventured.
The little figure turned; he was conscious of two very piercing eyesbeing raised to his, and heard in shaking accents, which yet were notthe accents of weakness, the surprised ejaculation:
"Judge Ostrander!"
Next minute they were together in a small room, with the door shutbehind them. The energy and decision of this mite of a woman weresurprising.
"I was going--to you--in the morning--" she panted in her excitement."To apologise," she respectfully finished.
"Then," said he, "it was your child who visited my house to-day?"
She nodded. Her large head was somewhat disproportioned to her short andstocky body. But her glance and manner were not unpleasing. There was amoment of silence which she hastened to break.
"Peggy is very young; it was not her fault. She is so young she doesn'teven know where she went. She was found loitering around the bridge--adangerous place for a child, but we've been very busy all day--and shewas found there and taken along by--by the other person. I hope that youwill excuse it, sir."
Was she giving the judge an opportunity to recover from hisembarrassment, or was she simply making good her own cause? Whicheverimpulse animated her, the result was favourable to both. Judge Ostranderlost something of his strained look, and it was no longer difficult forher to meet his eye.
Nevertheless, what he had to say came with a decided abruptness.
"Who is the woman, Mrs. Yardley? That's what I have come to learn, andnot to complain of your child."
The answer struck him very strangely, though he saw nothing to lead himto distrust her candour.
"I don't know, Judge Ostrander. She calls herself Averill, but thatdoesn't make me sure of her. You wonder that I should keep a lodgerabout whom I have any doubts, but there are times when Mr. Yardley useshis own judgment, and this is one of the times. The woman pays well andpromptly," she added in a lower tone.
"Her status? Is she maid, wife or widow?"
"Oh, she says she is a widow, and I see every reason to believe her."
A slight grimness in her manner, the smallest possible edge to hervoice, led the judge to remark:
"She's good-looking, I suppose."
A laugh, short and unmusical but not without a biting humour, brokeunexpectedly from the landlady's lips.
"If she is, HE don't know it. He hasn't seen her."
"Not seen her?"
"No. Her veil was very thick the night she came and she did not lift itas long as he was by. If she had--"
"Well, what?"
"I'm afraid that he wouldn't have exacted as much from her as he did.She's one of those women--"
"Don't hesitate, Mrs. Yardley."
"I'm thinking how to put it. Who has her will of your sex, I might say.Now I'm not."
"Pretty?"
"Not like a girl, sir. She's old enough to show fade; but I don'tbelieve that a man would mind that. She has a look--a way, that evenwomen feel. You may judge, sir, if we, old stagers at the business, havebeen willing to take her in and keep her, at any price,--a woman whowon't show her face except to me, and who will not leave her roomwithout her veil and then only for walks in places where no one elsewants to go,--she must have some queer sort of charm to overcome allscruples. But she's gone too far to-day. She shall leave the Innto-morrow. I promise you that, sir, whatever Samuel says. But sit down;sit down; you look tired, judge. Is there anything you would like? ShallI call Samuel?"
"No. I'm not much used to walking. Besides, I have had a great lossto-day. My man, Bela--" Then with his former abruptness: "Have you noidea who this Mrs. Averill is, or why she broke into my house?"
"There's but one explanation, sir. I've been thinking about it eversince I got wind of where she took my Peggy. The woman is notresponsible. She has some sort of mania. Why else should she go into astrange gate just because she saw it open?"
"She hasn't confided in you?"
"No, sir. I haven't seen her since she brought Peggy back. We've hadthis big automobile party, and I thought my reckoning with her wouldkeep. I heard about what had happened at your place from the man whobrought us fruit."
"Mrs. Yardley, you've seen this woman's face?"
"Yes, I've seen her."
"Describe it more particularly."
"I can't. She has brown hair, brown eyes and a skin as white as milk;but that don't describe her. Lots of women have all that."
"No, it doesn't describe her." His manner seemed to pray for furtherdetails, but she stared back, unresponsive. In fact, she felt quitehelpless. With a sigh of impatience, he resorted again to question.
"You speak of her as a stranger. Are you quite sure that she is astranger to Shelby? You have not been so very many years here, and herconstant wearing of a veil in-doors and out is very suspicious."
"So I'm beginning to think. And there is something else, judge, whichmakes me suspect you may be quite correct about her not being an entirestranger here. She knows this house too well."
The judge started. The strength of his self-control had relaxed a bit,and he showed in the look he cast about him what it had cost him toenter thes
e doors.
"It is not the same, of course," continued Mrs. Yardley, affected in apeculiar way by the glimpse she had caught of the other's emotionunnatural and incomprehensible as it appeared to her. "The place hasbeen greatly changed, but there is a certain portion of the old houseleft which only a person who knew it as it originally was would be aptto find; and yesterday, on going into one of these remote rooms I cameupon her sitting in one of the windows looking out. How she got there orwhy she went, I cannot tell you. She didn't choose to tell me, and Ididn't ask. But I've not felt real easy about her since."
"Excuse me, Mrs. Yardley, it may be a matter of no moment, but do youmind telling me where this room is?"
"It's on the top floor, sir; and it looks out over the ravine. Perhapsshe was spying out the path to your house."
The judge's face hardened. He felt baffled and greatly disturbed; but hespoke kindly enough when he again addressed Mrs. Yardley:
"I am as ignorant as you of this woman's personality and of her reasonsfor intruding into my presence this morning. But there is something sopeculiar about this presumptuous attempt of hers at an interview, that Ifeel impelled to inquire into it more fully, even if I have to approachthe only source of information capable of giving me what I want--thatis, herself. Mrs. Yardley, will you procure me an immediate interviewwith this woman? I am sure that you can be relied upon to do this and todo it with caution. You have the countenance of a woman unusuallydiscreet."
The subtle flattery did its work. She was not blind to the fact that hehad introduced it for that very purpose, but it was not in her nature towithstand any appeal from so exalted a source however made. Lifting hereyes fearlessly to his, she responded earnestly:
"I am proud to serve you. I will see what I can do. Will you wait herefor just a few minutes?"
He bowed quietly enough; but he was very restless when once he foundhimself alone. Those few minutes of waiting seemed interminable to him.Would the woman come? Was she as anxious to see him now as she had beenin the early morning? Much depended on her mood, but more on the natureof the errand which had taken her into his house. If that errand was avital one, he would soon hear her steps; indeed, he was hearing hersteps now--he was sure of it. Those of Mrs. Yardley were quicker,shorter, more businesslike. These, now advancing through the corridor,lingered as if held back by dread or a fateful indecision.
He would fain hasten them, but discretion forbade.
They faltered, turned, then, in an instant, all hesitation was lost inpurpose and they again advanced this time to the threshold. JudgeOstrander had just time to brace himself to meet the unknown, when thedoor fell back and the woman of the morning appeared in the opening.