Read Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 39
XXXVIII
A FEW WORDS
Never have keener or more conflicting emotions been awakened in mybreast than by these simple words. But alive to the necessity of hidingmy feelings from those about me, I gave no token of my surprise, butrather turned a stonier face than common upon the man who had caused it.
"Refuge?" I repeated. "He is there, then, of his own free will--oryours?" I sarcastically added, not being able to quite keep down thisreproach as I remembered the deception practised upon Lucetta.
"Mr. Ostrander, madam, has been spending the week with DeaconSpear--they are old friends, you know. That he should spend it quietlyand, to a degree, in hiding, was as much his plan as mine. For while hefound it impossible to leave Lucetta in the doubtful position in whichshe and her family at present stand, he did not wish to aggravate hermisery by the thought that he was thus jeopardizing the position onwhich all his hopes of future advancement depended. He preferred towatch and wait in secret, seeing which, I did what I could to furtherhis wishes. His usual lodging was with the family, but when the searchwas instituted, I suggested that he should remove himself to that eyrieback of the hay where you were sharp enough to detect him to-day."
"Don't attempt any of your flatteries upon me," I protested. "They willnot make me forget that I have not been treated fairly. And Lucetta--oh!may I not tell Lucetta----"
"And spoil our entire prospect of solving this mystery? No, madam, youmay not tell Lucetta. When Fate has put such a card into our hands as Iplayed with that telegram to-day, we would be flying in the face ofProvidence not to profit by it. Lucetta's despair makes her bold; uponthat boldness we depend to discover and bring to justice a greatcriminal."
I felt myself turn pale; for that very reason, perhaps, I assumed astill sterner air, and composedly said:
"If Mr. Ostrander is in hiding at the Deacon's, and he and his host areboth in your confidence, then the only man whom _you_ can designate inyour thoughts by this dreadful title must be Mr. Trohm."
I had perhaps hoped he would recoil at this or give some other evidenceof his amazement at an assumption which to me seemed preposterous. Buthe did not, and I saw, with what feelings may be imagined, that thisconclusion, which was half bravado with me, had been accepted by himlong enough for no emotion to follow its utterance.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, "how can you reconcile such a suspicion with theattitude you have always preserved towards Mr. Trohm?"
"Madam," said he, "do not criticise my attitude without taking intoaccount existing appearances. They are undoubtedly in Mr. Trohm'sfavor."
"I am glad to hear you say so," said I, "I am glad to hear you say so.Why, it was in response to his appeal that you came to X. at all."
Mr. Gryce's smile conveyed a reproach which I could not but acknowledgeI amply merited. Had he spent evening after evening at my house,entertaining me with tales of the devices and the many inconsistenciesof criminals, to be met now by such a puerile disclaimer as this? Butbeyond that smile he said nothing; on the contrary, he continued as if Ihad not spoken at all.
"But appearances," he declared, "will not stand before the insight of agirl like Lucetta. She has marked the man as guilty, and we will giveher the opportunity of proving the correctness of her instinct."
"But Mr. Trohm's house has been searched, and you have foundnothing--nothing," I argued somewhat feebly.
"That is the reason we find ourselves forced to yield our judgment toLucetta's intuitions," was his quick reply. And smiling upon me with hisblandest air, he obligingly added: "Miss Butterworth is a woman of toomuch character not to abide the event with all her accustomedcomposure." And with this final suggestion, I was as yet too crushed toresent, he dismissed me to an afternoon of unparalleled suspense andmany contradictory emotions.