XXXIII.
"KNOWN, KNOWN, ALL KNOWN."
Mr. Gryce possesses one faculty for which I envy him, and that is hisskill in the management of people. He had not been in Miss Althorpe'shouse five minutes before he had won her confidence and had everythinghe wished at his command. _I_ had to talk some time before getting sofar, but _he_--a word and a look did it.
Miss Oliver, for whom I hesitated to inquire, lest I should again findher gone or in a worse condition than when I left, was in realitybetter, and as we went up-stairs I allowed myself to hope that thequestions which had so troubled us would soon be answered and themystery ended.
But Mr. Gryce evidently knew better, for when we reached her door heturned and said:
"Our task will not be an easy one. Go in first and attract her attentionso that I can enter unobserved. I wish to study her before addressingher; but, mind, no words about the murder; leave that to me."
I nodded, feeling that I was falling back into my own place; andknocking softly entered the room.
A maid was sitting with her. Seeing me, she rose and advanced, saying:
"Miss Oliver is sleeping."
"Then I will relieve you," I returned, beckoning Mr. Gryce to come in.
The girl left us and we two contemplated the sick woman silently.Presently I saw Mr. Gryce shake his head. But he did not tell me what hemeant by it.
Following the direction of his finger, I sat down in a chair at the headof the bed; he took his station at the side of it in a large arm-chairhe saw there. As he did so I saw how fatherly and kind he really looked,and wondered if he was in the habit of so preparing himself to meet theeye of all the suspected criminals he encountered. The thought made meglance again her way. She lay like a statue, and her face, naturallyround but now thinned out and hollow, looked up from the pillow inpitiful quiet, the long lashes accentuating the dark places under hereyes.
A sad face, the saddest I ever saw and one of the most haunting.
He seemed to find it so also, for his expression of benevolent interestdeepened with every passing moment, till suddenly she stirred; then hegave me a warning glance, and stooping, took her by the wrist and pulledout his watch.
She was deceived by the action. Opening her eyes, she surveyed himlanguidly for a moment, then heaving a great sigh, turned aside herhead.
"Don't tell me I am better, doctor. I do not want to live."
The plaintive tone, the refined accent, seemed to astonish him. Layingdown her hand, he answered gently:
"I do not like to hear that from such young lips, but it assures me thatI was correct in my first surmise, that it is not medicine you need buta friend. And I can be that friend if you will but allow me."
Moved, encouraged for the instant, she turned her head from side toside, probably to see if they were alone, and not observing me, answeredsoftly:
"You are very good, very thoughtful, doctor, but"--and here her despairreturned again--"it is useless; you can do nothing for me."
"You think so," remonstrated the old detective, "but you do not know me,child. Let me show you that I can be of benefit to you." And he drewfrom his pocket a little package which he opened before her astonishedeyes. "Yesterday, in your delirium, you left these rings in an officedown-town. As they are valuable, I have brought them back to you. Wasn'tI right, my child?"
"No! no!" She started up, and her accents betrayed terror and anguish,"I do not want them; I cannot bear to see them; they do not belong to_me_; they belong to _them_."
"To _them_? Whom do you mean by them?" queried Mr. Gryce, insinuatingly.
"The--the Van Burnams. Is not that the name? Oh, do not make me talk; Iam so weak! Only take the rings back."
"I will, child, I will." Mr. Gryce's voice was more than fatherly now,it was tender, really and sincerely tender. "I will take them back; butto which of the brothers shall I return them? To"--he hesitatedsoftly--"to Franklin or to Howard?"
I expected to hear her respond, his manner was so gentle and apparentlysincere. But though feverish and on the verge of wildness, she had stillsome command over herself, and after giving him a look, the intensityof which called out a corresponding expression on his face, she falteredout:
"I--I don't care; I don't know either of the gentlemen; but to the oneyou call Howard, I think."
The pause which followed was filled by the tap-tap of Mr. Gryce'sfingers on his knee.
"That is the one who is in custody," he observed at last. "The other,that is Franklin, has gone scot-free thus far, I hear."
No answer from her close-shut lips.
He waited.
Still no answer.
"If you do not know either of these gentlemen," he insinuated at last,"how did you come to leave the rings at their office?"
"I knew their names--I inquired my way--It is all a dream now. Please,please do not ask me questions. O doctor! do you not see I cannot bearit?"
He smiled--I never could smile like that under any circumstances--andsoftly patted her hand.
"I see it makes you suffer," he acknowledged, "but I must make yousuffer in order to do you any good. If you would tell me all you knowabout these rings----"
She passionately turned away her head.
"I might hope to restore you to health and happiness. You know with whatthey are associated?"
She made a slight motion.
"And that they are an invaluable clue to the murderer of Mrs. VanBurnam?"
Another motion.
"How then, my child, did _you_ come to have them?"
Her head, which was rolling to and fro on the pillow, stopped and shegasped, rather than uttered:
"I was _there_."
He knew this, yet it was terrible to hear it from her lips; she was soyoung and had such an air of purity and innocence. But more heartrendingyet was the groan with which she burst forth in another moment, as ifimpelled by conscience to unburden herself from some overwhelming load:
"I took them; I could not help it; but I did not keep them; you knowthat I did not keep them. I am no thief, doctor; whatever I am, I am nothief."
"Yes, yes, I see that. But why take them, child? What were you doing inthat house, and whom were you with?"
She threw up her arms, but made no reply.
"Will you not tell?" he urged.
A short silence, then a low "No," evidently wrung from her by thedeepest anguish.
Mr. Gryce heaved a sigh; the struggle was likely to be a more seriousone than he had anticipated.
"Miss Oliver," said he, "more facts are known in relation to this affairthan you imagine. Though unsuspected at first, it has secretly beenproven that the man who accompanied the woman into the house where thecrime took place, was _Franklin_ Van Burnam."
A low gasp from the bed, and that was all.
"You know this to be correct, don't you, Miss Oliver?"
"O must you ask?" She was writhing now, and I thought he must desist outof pure compassion. But detectives are made out of very stern stuff, andthough he looked sorry he went inexorably on.
"Justice and a sincere desire to help you, force me, my child. Were younot the woman who entered Mr. Van Burnam's house at midnight with thisman?"
"I entered the house."
"At midnight?"
"Yes."
"And with this man?"
Silence.
"You do not speak, Miss Oliver."
Again silence.
"It was Franklin who was with you at the Hotel D----?"
She uttered a cry.
"And it was Franklin who connived at your change of clothing there, andadvised or allowed you to dress yourself in a new suit from Altman's?"
"Oh!" she cried again.
"Then why should it not have been he who accompanied you to theChinaman's, and afterwards took you in a second hack to the house inGramercy Park?"
"Known, known, all known!" was her moan.
"Sin and crime cannot long remain hidden in this world, Miss Oliver. Thepolice are acquainted w
ith all your movements from the moment you leftthe Hotel D----. That is why I have compassion on you. I wish to saveyou from the consequences of a crime you saw committed, but in which youtook no hand."
"O," she exclaimed in one involuntary burst, as she half rose to herknees, "if you could save me from appearing in the matter at all! If youwould let me run away----"
But Mr. Gryce was not the man to give her hope on any such score.
"Impossible, Miss Oliver. You are the only person who can witness forthe guilty. If _I_ should let you go, the police would not. Then why nottell at once whose hand drew the hat-pin from your hat and----"
"Stop!" she shrieked; "stop! you kill me! I cannot bear it! If you bringthat moment back to my mind I shall go mad! I feel the horror of itrising in me now! Be still! I pray you, for God's sake, to be still!"
This was mortal anguish; there was no acting in this. Even he wasstartled by the emotion he had raised, and sat for a moment withoutspeaking. Then the necessity of providing against all further mistakesby fixing the guilt where it belonged, drove him on again, and he said:
"Like many another woman before you, you are trying to shield a guiltyman at your own expense. But it is useless, Miss Oliver; the truthalways comes to light. Be advised, then, and make a confidant of one whounderstands you better than you think."
But she would not listen to this.
"No one understands me. I do not understand myself. I only know that Ishall make a confidant of no one; that I shall never speak." And turningfrom him, she buried her head in the bedclothes.
To most men her tone and the action which accompanied it would have beenfinal. But Mr. Gryce possessed great patience. Waiting for just a momenttill she seemed more composed, he murmured gently:
"Not if you must suffer more from your silence than from speaking? Notif men--I do not mean myself, child, for I am your friend--will thinkthat _you_ are to blame for the death of the woman whom you saw fallunder a cruel stab, and whose rings you have?"
"_I!_" Her horror was unmistakable; so were her surprise, her terror,and her shame, but she added nothing to the word she had uttered, and hewas forced to say again:
"The world, and by that I mean both good people and bad, will believeall this. _He_ will let them believe all this. Men have not the devotionof women."
"Alas! alas!" It was a murmur rather than a cry, and she trembled so thebed shook visibly under her. But she made no response to the entreaty inhis look and gesture, and he was compelled to draw back unsatisfied.
When a few heavy minutes had passed, he spoke again, this time in a toneof sadness.
"Few men are worth such sacrifices, Miss Oliver, and a criminal never.But a woman is not moved by that thought. She should be moved by this,however. If either of these brothers is to blame in this matter,consideration for the guiltless one should lead you to mention the nameof the guilty."
But even this did not visibly affect her.
"I shall mention no names," said she.
"A sign will answer."
"I shall make no sign."
"Then Howard must go to his trial?"
A gasp, but no words.
"And Franklin proceed on his way undisturbed?"
She tried not to answer, but the words would come. Pray God! I may neversee such a struggle again.
"That is as God wills. I can do nothing in the matter." And she sankback crushed and wellnigh insensible.
Mr. Gryce made no further effort to influence her.