CHAPTER XVIII.
MURDER WILL OUT
He was gone but for three minutes. Meanwhile, I buried my face in myburning hands, and cried to myself in unspeakable misery.
For, horrible as it sounds to say so, I knew perfectly well now thatJack was Dr. Ivor: yet, in spite of that knowledge, I loved himstill. He was my father's murderer; and I couldn't help loving him!
It was that that filled up the cup of my misery to overflowing. Iloved the man well: and I must turn to denounce him.
He came back, flushed and hot, expecting thanks for his pains.
"Well, she'll get you the lemon, Una," he said, panting. "I overtookher by the big tulip-tree."
I gazed at him fixedly, taking my hands from my face, with the tearsstill wet on my burning cheek.
"You've deceived me!" I cried sternly. "Jack, you've given me afalse name. I know who you are, now. You're no Jack at all. You'reCourtenay Ivor!"
He drew back, quite amazed. Yet he didn't seem thunderstruck. Notfear but surprise was the leading note on his features.
"So you've found that out at last, Una!" he exclaimed, staring hardat me. "Then you remember me after all, darling! You know who I am.You haven't quite forgotten me. And you recall what has gone, doyou?"
I rose from the sofa, ill as I was, in my horror.
"You dare to speak to me like that, sir!" I cried. "You, whom I'vetracked out to your hiding-place and discovered! You, whom I've comeacross the ocean to hunt down! You, whom I mean to give up this veryday to Justice! Let me go from your house at once! How dare you everbring me here? How dare you stand unabashed before the daughter ofthe man you so cruelly murdered?"
He drew back like one stung.
"The daughter of the man I murdered!" he faltered out slowly, as ina turmoil of astonishment. "The man _I_ murdered! Oh, Una, is itpossible you've forgotten so much, and yet remember me myself? Ican't believe it, darling. Sit down, my child, and think. Surely,surely the rest will come back to you gradually."
His calmness unnerved me. What could he mean by these words? Noactor on earth could dissemble like this. His whole manner wasutterly unlike the manner of a man just detected in a terriblecrime. He seemed rather to reproach me, indeed, than to crouch; tobe shocked and indignant.
"Explain yourself," I said coldly, in a very chilly voice."Courtenay Ivor, I give you three minutes to explain. At the end ofthat time, if you can't exonerate yourself, I walk out of this houseto give you up, as I ought, to the arm of Justice!"
He looked at me, all pity, yet inexpressibly reproachful.
"Oh, Una," he cried, clasping his hands--those small white hands ofhis--Aunt Emma's hands--the murderer's hands--how had I neverbefore noticed them?--"and I, who have suffered so much for you! I,who have wrecked my whole life for you, ungrudgingly, willingly! I,who have sacrificed even Elsie's happiness and Elsie's future foryou! This is too, too hard! Una, Una, spare me!"
A strange trembling seized me. It was in my heart to rush forwardand clasp him to my breast. Murderer or no murderer, his look, hisvoice, cut me sharply to the heart. Words trembled on the tip of mytongue: "Oh, Jack, I love you!" But with a violent effort, Irepressed them sternly. This horrible revulsion seemed to tear me intwo. I loved him so much. Though till the moment of the discovery, Inever quite realised how deeply I loved him.
"Courtenay Ivor," I said slowly, steeling myself once more for ahard effort, "I knew who you were at once when I saw you poiseyourself on the parapet. Once before in my life I saw you like that,and the picture it produced has burned itself into the very fibreand marrow of my being. As long as I live, I can never get rid ofit. It was when you leapt from the window at The Grange, atWoodbury, after murdering my father!"
He started once more.
"Una," he said solemnly, in a very clear voice, "there's someterrible error somewhere. You're utterly mistaken about what tookplace that night. But oh, great heavens! how am I ever to explainthe misconception to YOU? If you still think thus, it would be cruelto undeceive you. I daren't tell you the whole truth. It would killyou! It would kill you!"
I drew myself up like a pillar of ice.
"Go on," I said, in a hard voice; for I saw he had something to say."Don't mind for my heart. Tell me the truth. I can stand it."
He hesitated for a minute or two.
"I can't!" he cried huskily. "Dear Una, don't ask me! Won't youtrust me, without? Won't you believe me when I tell you, I never didit?"
"No, I can't," I answered with sullen resolution, though my eyesbelied my words. "I can't disbelieve the evidence of my own senses.I SAW you escape that night. I see you still. I've seen you foryears. I KNOW it was you, and you only, who did it!"
He flung himself down in a chair, and let his arms drop listlessly.
"Oh! what can I ever do to disillusion you?" he cried in despair."Oh! what can I ever do? This is too, too terrible!"
I moved towards the door.
"I'm going," I said, with a gulp. "You've deceived me, Jack. You'velied to me. You have given me feigned names. You have decoyed me toyour house under false pretences. And I recognise you now. I knowyou in all your baseness. You're my father's murderer! Don't hope toescape by playing on my feelings. I'd deserve to be murdered myself,if I could act like that! I'm on my way to the police-office, togive you in custody on the charge of murdering Vivian Callingham atWoodbury!"
He jumped up again, all anxiety.
"Oh, no, you mustn't walk!" he cried, laying his hand upon my arm."Give me up, if you like; but wait till the buggy comes back, andElsie'll drive you round with me. You're not fit to go a step as youare at present... Oh! what shall I ever do, though. You're so weakand ill. Elsie'll never allow it."
"Elsie'll never allow WHAT?" I asked; though I felt it was rathermore grotesque than undignified and inconsistent thus to parley andmake terms with my father's murderer. Though, to be sure, it wasJack, and I couldn't bear to refuse him.
He kept his hand on my arm with an air of authority.
"Una, my child," he said, thrusting me back--and even at thatmoment of supreme horror, a thrill ran all through my body at histouch and his words--"you MUSTN'T go out of this house as you arethis minute. I refuse to allow it. I'm your doctor, and I forbid it.You're under my charge, and I won't let you stir. If I did, I'd beresponsible."
He pushed me gently into a chair.
"I gave you but one false name," he said slowly--"the name ofCheriton. To be sure I, was never christened John, but I'm Jack tomy intimates. It was my nickname from a baby. Jack's what I'vealways been called at home--Jack's what, in the dear old days atTorquay, you always called me. But I saw if I let you know who I wasat once, there'd be no chance of recalling the past, and so savingyou from yourself. To save you, I consented to that one milddeception. It succeeded in bringing you here, and in keeping youhere till Elsie and I were once more what we'd always been to you. Imeant to tell you all in the end, when the right time came. Now,you've forced my hand, and I don't know how I can any longer refrainfrom telling you."
"Telling me WHAT?" I said icily. "What do you mean by your words?Why all these dark hints? If you've anything to say, why not say itlike a man?"
For I loved him so much that in my heart of hearts, I half hopedthere might still be some excuse, some explanation.
He looked at me solemnly. Then he leant back in his chair and drewhis hand across his brow. I could see now why I hadn't recognisedthat delicate hand before: white as it was by nature, hard work onthe farm had long bronzed and distorted it. But I saw also, for thefirst time, that the palm was scarred with cuts and rents--exactlylike Minnie Moore's, exactly like Aunt Emma's.
"Una," he began slowly, in a very puzzled tone, "if I could, I'dgive myself up and be tried, and be found guilty and executed foryour sake, sooner than cause you any further distress, or expose youto the shock of any more disclosures. But I can't do that, onElsie's account. Even if I decided to put Elsie to that shame anddisgrace--which would hardly be just, which would hardly be manly o
fme--Elsie knows all, and Elsie'd never consent to it. She'd neverlet her brother be hanged for a crime of which (as she knows) he'sentirely innocent. And she'd tell out all in full court--every fact,every detail--which would be worse for you ten thousand times in theend than learning it here quietly."
"Tell me all," I said, growing stony, yet trembling from head tofoot. "Oh, Jack,"--I seized his hand,--"I don't know what you mean!But I somehow trust you. I want to know all. I can bearanything--anything--better than this suspense. You MUST tell me! YouMUST explain to me!"
"I will," he said slowly, looking hard into my eyes, and feeling mypulse half unconsciously with his finger as he spoke. "Una darling,you must make up your mind now for a terrible shock. I won't tellyou in words, for you'd never believe it. I'll SHOW you who it wasthat fired the shot at Mr. Callingham."
He moved over to the other side of the room, and unlocking drawerafter drawer, took a bundle of photographs from the inmost secretcabinet of a desk in the corner.
"There, Una," he said, selecting one of them and holding it upbefore my eyes. "Prepare yourself, darling. That's the person whopulled the trigger that night in the library!"
I looked at it and fell back with a deadly shriek of horror. It wasan instantaneous photograph. It represented a scene just before theone the Inspector gave me. And there, in its midst, I saw myself asa girl, with a pistol in my hand. The muzzle flashed and smoked. Iknew the whole truth. It was I myself who held the pistol and firedat my father!