CHAPTER XXIII.
THE FATAL SHOT
"Thank God, Una," Jack cried, "you remember it now even better thanI do!"
"Remember it!" I answered, holding my brow with my hands to keep theflood of thought from bursting it to fragments. "Remember it! Why,it comes back to me like waves of fire and burns me. I rememberevery word, every act, every gesture. I lifted my head slowly, Jack,and looked over the screen at him. In the twilight, I saw himthere--the man I called my father--holding the bottle to your face,that wicked bottle of chloroform, with his revolver in one hand, anda calm smile like a fiend's playing hatefully and cruelly round thatgrave-looking mouth of his. I never saw any man look so ghastly inmy life. I was rooted to the spot with awe and terror. I daredhardly cry out or move. Yet I knew this was murder. He would killyou! He would kill you! He was trying to poison you before my veryeyes. Oh, heaven, how I hated him! He was no father of mine. He hadnever been my father. And he was murdering the man I loved best inthe world. For I loved you better than life, Jack! Oh, the strain ofit was terrible! I see it all now. I live it all over again. Withone wild bound I leapt forward, and, hardly knowing what I did, Ipressed the button, turned off the current from the battery, andrushed wildly upon him. I suppose the knob I pressed not onlyreleased you, but set the photographic machine at work automatically.But I didn't know it then. At any rate, I remember now, in theseconds that followed, flash came fast after flash. There was asudden illumination. The room was lighter than day. It grew alternatelybright as noon and then dark as pitch again by contrast. And by thelight of the flashes, I saw you, half-dazed with the chloroform,standing helpless there.
"I rushed up and caught the man's arm. He was never my father! Hedropped the bottle and struggled hard for possession of the pistol.First he pointed it at you, then at me, then at you again. He meantto shoot you. I was afraid it would go off. With a terrible effort Itwisted his wrist awry, in the mad force of passion, and wrenchedthe revolver away from him. He jumped at my throat, still silent,but fierce like a tiger at bay. I eluded him, and sprang back. ThenI remember no more, except that I stood with the pistol pointed athim. Next, came a flash, a loud roar. And then, in a moment, thePicture. He lay dead on the floor in his blood. And my Second Statebegan. And from that day, for months, I was like a little childagain."
Jack looked at me as I paused.
"And then?" he went on in a very low voice, half prompting me.
"And then all I can remember," I said, "is how you got out of thewindow. But I didn't know when I saw you, it was you or anyone else.That was my Second State then. The shot seemed to end all. Whatcomes next is quite different. It belongs to the new world. There,my life stopped dead short and began all over again."
There was a moments silence. Jack was the first to break it.
"And now will you give yourself up to the police, Una?" he asked mequietly.
The question brought me back to the present again with a bound.
"Oh! what ought I to do?" I cried, wringing my hands. "I don't quiteknow all yet. Jack, why did you run away that last moment and leaveme?"
Jack took my hand very seriously.
"Una, my child," he said, fixing his eyes on mine, "I hardly knowwhether I can ever make you understand all that. I must ask you atfirst at least just simply to believe me. I must ask you to trust meand to accept my account. When you rushed upon me as I stood there,all entangled in that hateful apparatus, and unable to move, Ididn't know where you had been; I didn't know how you'd come there.But I felt sure you must have heard at least your false father'slast words--that he'd stifle me with the chloroform and burn mybody up afterwards to ashes with his chemicals. You seized thepistol before I could quite recover from the effects of the fumes.He lay dead at my feet before I realised what was happening.
"Then, in a moment, as I looked at you, I took it all in, like aflash of lightning. I saw how impossible it would be ever toconvince anybody else of the truth of our story. I saw if we bothtold the truth, no one would ever believe us. There was no time thento reflect, no time to hesitate. I had to make up my mind at once toa plan of action, and to carry it out without a second's delay. Inone burst of inspiration, I saw that to stop would be to seal bothour fates. I didn't mind so much for myself; that was nothing,nothing: but for your sake I felt I must dare and risk everything.Then I turned round and looked at you. I saw at one glance thehorror of the moment had rendered you speechless and almostsenseless. The right plan came to me at once as if by magic. 'Una,'I cried, 'stand back! Wait till the servants come!' For I knew thereport of the revolver would soon bring them up to the library. ThenI waited myself. As they reached the door, and forced it open, Ijumped up to the window. Just outside, my bicycle stood proppedagainst the wall. I let them purposely catch just a glimpse of myback--an unfamiliar figure. They saw the pistol on the floor,--Mr.Callingham dead--you, startled and horrified--a man unknown,escaping in hot haste from the window. I risked my own life, so asto save your name and honour. I let them see me escape, so as toexonerate you from suspicion. If they hanged me, what matter? Then Ileapt down in a hurry, jumped lightly on my machine, and rode offlike the wind down the avenue to the high-road. For a second or twothey waited to look at you and your father. That second or two savedus. By the time they'd come out to look, I was away down thegrounds, past the turn of the avenue, and well on for the high-road.They'd seen a glimpse of the murderer, escaping by the window. Theywould never suspect YOU. You were saved, and I was happy."
"And for the same reason even now," I said, "you wouldn't tell thepolice?"
"Let sleeping dogs lie," Jack answered, in the same words as Dr.Marten. "Why rake up this whole matter? It's finished for ever now,and nobody but yourself is ever likely to reopen it. If we both toldour tale, we might run a great risk of being seriously misinterpreted.You know it's true; so do I: but who else would believe us? No man'sbound to criminate himself. You shot him to save my life, at the verymoment when you first learned all his cruelty and his vileness. Therest of the world could never be made to understand all that. They'dsay to the end, as it looks on the surface, 'She shot her father tosave her lover.'"
"You're right," I said slowly. "I shall let this thing rest. But thephotographs, Jack--the apparatus--the affair of the inquest?"
"That was all very simple," Jack answered. "For a day or two, ofcourse, I was in a frantic state of mind for fear you should besuspected, or the revolver should betray you. But though I saw theelectric sparks, of course, I knew nothing about the photographs. Iwasn't even aware that the apparatus took negatives automatically.And I was so full of the terrible reports in the newspapers aboutyour sudden loss of health, that I could think of nothingelse--least of all my own safety. As good luck would have it,however, the clergyman at Wrode, who knew the Wilsons, happened tospeak to me of the murder--all England called it the murder andtalked of nothing else for at least a fortnight,--and in the courseof conversation he mentioned this apparatus of Mr. Callingham'sconstruction. 'What a pity,' he said, 'there didn't happen to be oneof them in the library at the time! If it was focussed towards thepersons, and had been set on by the victim, it would havephotographed the whole scene the murder, the murderer.'
"That hint revealed much to me. As he spoke, I remembered suddenlyabout those mysterious flashes when you burst all at once on mysight from behind the screen. Till that moment, I thought of themonly as some result of your too suddenly turning off the electriccurrent. But then, it came home to me in a second that Mr.Callingham must have set out his apparatus all ready forexperimenting--that the electric apparatus was there to put it inworking order. The button you turned must not only have stopped thecurrent that nailed me writhing to the spot: it must also have setworking the automatic photographic camera!
"That thought, as you may imagine, filled me with speechless alarm:for I remembered then that one of the flashes broke upon us at theexact moment when you fired the pistol. Such a possibility washorrible to contemplate. The photographs by themselves could give noclu
e to our conversation or to the events that compelled you, almostagainst your own will, to fire that fatal shot. If they were foundby the police, all would be up with both of us. They might hang MEif they liked: except for Elsie's sake, I didn't mind much aboutthat: but for your safety, come what might, I felt I must manage toget hold of them or to destroy them.
"Were the negatives already in the hands of the police? That was nowthe great question. I read the reports diligently, with all theirdescriptions of the room, and noticed that while the table, thealcove, the screen, the box, the electrical apparatus, were allcarefully mentioned, not a word was said anywhere about thepossession of the negatives. Reasoning further upon the descriptionof the supposed murderer as given by the servants, and placardedbroadcast in every town in England, I came to the conclusion thatthe police couldn't yet have discovered the existence of thesenegatives: for some of them must surely have photographed my face,however little in focus; while the printed descriptions mentionedonly the man's back, as the servants saw him escaping from thewindow. The papers said the room was being kept closed till theinquest, for inspection in due time by the coroner's jury. I made upmy mind at once. When the room was opened for the jurors to view it,I must get in there and carry them off, if they caught me in theattempt.
"It was no use trying before the jury had seen the room. But as soonas that was all over, I judged the strictness of the watch upon thepremises would be relaxed, and the windows would probably be openeda little to air the place. So on the morning of the inquest, I toldthe Wilsons casually I'd met you at Torquay and had therefore a sortof interest in learning the result of the coroner's deliberation.Then I took my bicycle, and rode across to Woodbury. Leaning up mymachine against the garden wall, I walked carelessly in at the gate,and up the walk to the library window, as if the place belonged tome. Oh, how my heart beat as I looked in and wondered! The foldinghalves were open, and the box stood on the table, still connectedwith the wires that conducted the electrical current. I stood andhesitated in alarm. Were the negatives still there, or had thepolice discovered them? If they were gone, all was up with you. Thegame was lost. No jury on earth, I felt sure, would believe mystory.
"I vaulted up to the sill. Thank heaven, I was athletic. Not a soulwas about: but I heard a noise of muffled voices in the other roomsbehind. Treading cat-like across the floor, I turned the key in thelock. A chalk mark still showed the position of the pistol on theground exactly as you flung it. The box was on the table, and I sawat a glance, the wires which connected it with the battery had neverbeen disconnected. I was afraid of receiving a shock if I touchedthem with my hands, and I had no time to waste in discoveringelectrical attachments. So I pulled out my knife, and you can fancywith what trembling hands I cut that wire on either side andreleased the box from its dangerous connections. I knew only toowell the force of that current. Then I took the thing under my arm,leaped from the window once more, and ran across the shrubberytowards the spot where I'd left my bicycle.
"On the way, the thought struck me that if I carried along thecamera, all would be up with me should I happen to be challenged. Itwas the only one of the sort in existence at the time, and the wiresat the side would at once suffice to identify it and to arouse thesuspicion even of an English policeman. I paused for a moment behinda thick clump of lilacs and tried to pull out the incriminatingnegatives. Oh, Una, I did it for your sake; but there, terrified andtrembling, in hiding behind the bushes, and in danger of my life,with that still more unspeakable danger for yours haunting me alwayslike a nightmare, can you wonder that for the moment I almost feltmyself a murderer? The very breezes in the trees made my heart givea jump, and then stand still within me. I got out the first two orthree plates with some trifling difficulty, for I didn't understandthe automatic apparatus then as I understand it now: but the fourthstuck hard for a minute; the fifth broke in two; and thesixth--well, the sixth plate baffled me entirely by getting jammedin the clockwork, and refusing to move, either backward or forward.
"At that moment, I either heard or fancied I heard a loud noise ofpursuit, a hue and cry behind me. Zeal for your safety had made mepreternaturally nervous. I looked about me hurriedly, thrust thenegatives I'd recovered into my breast-pocket as fast as ever Icould, flung the apparatus away from me with the sixth plate jammedhard in the groove, and made off at the top of my speed for the wallbehind me. For there, at that critical point, it occurred to mesuddenly that the sixth and last flash of the machine had come andgone just as I stood poising myself on the ledge of the window-sill;and I thought to myself--rightly as it turned out--this additionalevidence would only strengthen the belief in the public mind thatMr. Callingham had been murdered by the man whom the servants sawescaping from the window.
"The rest, my child, you know pretty well already. In a panic onyour account, I scrambled over the wall, tearing my hands as I wentwith that nasty-bottle glass, reached my bicycle outside, and madeoff, not for the country, but for the inn where they were holdingthe coroner's inquest. My left hand I had to hold, tied up in myhandkerchief to stop the bleeding, in the pocket of my jacket: but Ithought this the best way, all the same, to escape detection. And,indeed, instead of being, as I feared, the only man there inbicycling dress and knickerbockers, I found the occasion hadpositively attracted all the cyclists of the neighbourhood. Each manwent there to show his own innocence of fear or suspicion. A gooddozen or two of bicyclists stood gathered already in the body of theroom in the same incriminating costume. So I found safety innumbers. Even the servants who had seen me disappear through thewindow, though their eyes lighted upon me more than once, never fora moment seemed to suspect me. And I know very well why. When Istand up, I'm the straightest and most perpendicular man that everwalked erect. But when I poise to jump, I bend my spine so much thatI produce the impression of being almost hump-backed. It was thatattitude you recognised in me when I jumped from the window justnow."
"Why, Jack," I cried clinging to him in a perfect whirlwind ofwonder, "one can hardly believe it--that was only an hour ago!"
"That was only an hour ago," Jack answered, smiling. "But as foryou, I suppose you've lived half a lifetime again in it. And now youknow the whole secret of the Woodbury Mystery. And you won't want togive yourself up to the police any longer."
CHAPTER XXIV.
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
"But why didn't you explain it all to me at the very first?" Iexclaimed, all tremulous. "When you met me at Quebec, I mean--whydidn't you tell me then? Did you and Elsie come there on purpose tomeet me?"
"Yes, we came there to meet you," Jack answered. "But we were afraidto make ourselves known to you all at once just at first, because,you see, Una, I more than half suspected then, what I know now to bethe truth, that you were coming out to Canada on purpose to hunt meup, not as your friend and future husband, but in enmity andsuspicion as your father's murderer. And in any case we wereuncertain which attitude you might adopt towards me. But I see Imust explain a little more even now. I haven't told you yet why Icame at all to Canada."
"Tell me now," I answered. "I must know everything to-day. I cannever rest now till I've heard the whole story."
"Well," Jack went on more calmly, "after the first excitement woreoff in the public mind, there came after a bit a lull of languidinterest; the papers began to forget the supposed facts of themurder, and to dwell far more upon your own new role as apsychological curiosity. They talked much about your strange newlife and its analogies elsewhere. I was anxious to see you, ofcourse, to satisfy myself of your condition; but the doctors who hadcharge of you refused to let you mix for a while with anyone you hadknown in your First State; and I now think wisely. It was best youshould recover your general health and faculties by slow degrees,without being puzzled and distracted by constant upsettingrecollections and suggestions of your past history.
"But for me, of course, at the time, the separation was terrible.Each morning, I read with feverish interest the reports of yourhealth, and longed, day after day, to
hear of some distinctimprovement. And yet at the same time, I was terrified at everyapproach to complete convalescence: I feared that if you got betterat all, you might remember too quick, and that then the sudden rushof recollection might kill you or upset your reason. But by-and-by,it became clear to me you could remember nothing of the actual shotitself. And I saw plainly why. It was the firing of the pistol thatobliterated, as it were, every trace of your past life in yourdisorganised brain. And it obliterated ITSELF too. Your new lifebegan just one moment later, with the Picture of the dead manstretched before you in his blood on the floor, and a figure in thebackground disappearing through the window."
How clever he was, to be sure! I saw in a moment Jack hadinterpreted my whole frame of mind correctly and wonderfully.
"Well, I went back to Babbicombe," Jack continued, "and, lest myheart should break for want of human sympathy, I confided every wordof my terrible story to Elsie. Elsie can trust me; and Elsiebelieved me. Gradually, as you began to recover, I realised thesoundness of your doctor's idea that you should be allowed to comeback to yourself by re-education from the very beginning, withoutany too early intrusion of reminiscences from your previous life toconfuse and disturb you. But I couldn't go on with my profession,all the same, while I waited. I couldn't attend as I ought to mypatients' wants and ailments: I was too concentrated upon you: thestrain was too great upon me. So I threw up my practice, came out toCanada, bought a bit of land, and began farming here, and seeing afew patients now and again locally, just to fill up my time with. Ifelt confident in the end you would recover and remember me. I feltconfident you would come to yourself and marry me. But still, it wasvery long work waiting. Every month, Elsie got news indirectly fromMinnie Moore or someone of your state of health; and I intended togo back and try to see you as soon as ever you were in a conditionto bear the shock of re-living your previous life again.
"Unfortunately, however, the police got hold of YOU before I couldcarry my plan into execution. As soon as I heard that, I made up mymind at once to go home by the first mail and break it all gently toyou. So Elsie and I started for Quebec, meaning to sail by theDominion steamer for England. But at the hotel at Quebec we saw thetelegrams announcing that you were then on your way out to Canada.Well, of course we didn't feel sure whether you came as a friend oran enemy. We were certain it was to seek me out you were coming toAmerica; but whether you remembered me still and still loved me, orwhether you'd found out some stray clue to the missing man, and wereanxious to hunt me down as your father's murderer, we hadn't theslightest conception. So under those circumstances, we thought itbest not to meet you ourselves at the steamer, or to reveal ouridentity too soon, for fear of a catastrophe. I knew it would bebetter to wait and watch--to gain your confidence, if possible--inany case, to find out how you were affected on first seeing us andtalking with us.
"Well then, as the time came on for the Sarmatian to arrive, itbegan to strike me by degrees that all Quebec was agog withcuriosity to see you. I dared not go down to meet you at the quaymyself; but the Chief Constable of Quebec, Major Tascherel, was anold friend and fellow-officer of my father's; and when I explainedto him my fears that you might be mobbed by sightseers on yourarrival at the harbour, and told him how afraid I was of the shockit might give you to meet an old friend unexpectedly at thesteamer's side, he very kindly consented to go down and see you safethrough the Custom House, It was so lucky I knew him. If it hadn'tbeen for that, you might have been horribly inconvenienced.
"As you may imagine, when we first saw you get into the Pullman car,both Elsie and I felt our hearts come up into our months withsuspense and anxiety. We'd arranged it all so on purpose, for wefelt sure you were on your way to Palmyra to find us: but when itcame to the actual crisis, we wondered most nervously what effectthe sight of us might have upon your system. But in a moment, I sawyou didn't remember us at all, or only vaguely attached to us somefaint sense of friendliness. That was well, because it enabled us togain your confidence easily. As we spoke with you, the sense offriendly interest deepened. I knew that, all unconsciously toyourself, you loved me still, and that in a very short time, if onlyI could see you and be with you, I might bring all back to you."
Jack paused and looked at me. As he paused, I felt my old selfrevive again more completely than ever with a rush.
"Oh, Jack," I cried, "so you HAVE done; so you HAVE brought all backto me! My Second State's over: I'm the same girl you used to know atTorquay once more. I remember everything--everything--such aworld--such a lifetime! I feel as if my head would burst with allthe things I remember. I don't know what to do with it. I'm sotired, so weary."
"Lay it here," Jack said simply.
And I laid it on his shoulder, just as I used to do years ago, andcried so long in silence, and was ever so much comforted. For I'veadmitted all along that I'm only a woman.
There we sat, hand in hand, for many minutes more, saying neveranother word, but sympathising silently, till Elsie returned fromPalmyra.
When she burst into the room, she called out lightly as she entered:
"Well, I've got you your lemon, Una, and I do hope--" Then she brokeshort suddenly. "Oh, Jack," she cried, faltering, and half guessingthe truth, "what's the meaning of this? Why, Una's been crying. Youbad boy, you've been frightening her. I oughtn't to have left herten minutes alone with you!"
Jack rose and held up his hand in warning.
"Don't talk to her at present, Elsie," he said. "You needn't beafraid. Una's found out everything. She remembers all now. And sheknows how everything happened. And she's borne it so bravely,without any more shock to her health and strength than wasabsolutely inevitable.--Let her sleep if she can. It'll do her somuch good.--But, Elsie, there's one thing I want to say to you bothbefore I hand her over to you. After all that's happened, I don'tthink Una'll want to hear that hateful name of Callingham any more.It never was really hers, and it never shall be. We'll let bygonesbe bygones in every other respect, and not rake up any details ofthat hateful story. But she's been Una to us always, and she shallbe Una still. It's a very good name for her: for there's only one ofher. But next week, I propose, she shall be Una Ivor."
I threw myself on his neck, and cried again like a child.
"I accept, Jack," I said, sobbing. "Let it be Ivor, if you will.Next week, then, I'll be your wife at last, my darling!"
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