CHAPTER XVI
The Secret of the Cellar
It was a moment before I fully understood the meaning of theseextraordinary words. When I did understand them, I saw crumbling beforeme that elaborate structure which I had been at such pains to build--thestructure founded upon the assumption of Miss Lawrence's innocence. Shewas only an adventuress, after all, then; or, more probably, only a weakwoman, swayed by an ungovernable passion, risking everything rather thangive up the man she loved; deceiving him, lying to him, taking the onedesperate chance that lay within her reach; pausing at nothing so shemight gain her end.
Or perhaps she had really believed that old mistake of hers buried pastresurrection. She may have thought him dead, this fascinating scoundrelwho had turned her girlish head. She may have thought herself free. Buteven then her skirts were not wholly clean. She should have told herlover; she should never have permitted this shadow to lie betweenthem--this skeleton, ready at any moment to burst from its closet. Butbetter far that it should burst out when it did, than wait until the sinwas consummated; an hour later, and the shackles had been forged pastbreaking! If revenge on Marcia Lawrence was the object of the plot, theconspirators had overleaped themselves. They should have waited untilthe words were uttered which bound her to her second lover--then, hadthey sprung their trap, how they might have racked her!
One other thing I understood--and marvelled that I had not understoodbefore. I saw what Mrs. Lawrence had meant by saying that the marriagewas not impossible--that the obstacle could be cleared away--that itshould be for Burr Curtiss to decide. But even he, I felt, wouldhesitate to take for his wife a woman just emerging from the shadow ofthe divorce court, however little she had been to blame for the tragedywhich drove her there--more especially since he must see that from thevery first she had not dealt fairly with him. A fault confessed may beforgiven; a fault discovered is a different thing.
She had not been brave enough to confess; she had not trusted him; shehad deceived him. She had been guilty, guilty! Those were the wordswhich sang and sang in my brain and would not be stilled.
Her face was a siren's face--beautiful, innocent, virgin-fresh; and hersoul a siren's soul--merciless, selfish, hard. And I had fancied thatthe soul was like the face! I had not thought that a face like thatcould lie! Verily, of women I had much to learn!
"It was only by the merest accident I found it out," Godfrey was saying."It was the policeman who was on duty at the Lawrence place yesterdaymorning who gave me the first hint. I'd already sounded him, as well aseverybody else about the place, as to whether any strangers had beennoticed loitering about, and they were all quite positive that nostranger had passed the gate or entered the grounds during the morning.After I left you, yesterday morning, I started back to the hotel to getmy things together, and in the hotel office I happened to meet thepoliceman, whose name, it seems, is Clemley. He was off duty and seemedanxious to talk, so I took him in to the bar, and got him a drink, andpumped him a little on the off-chance of his knowing something he hadn'ttold me.
"'And you're still sure,' I asked him after a while, 'that no strangerswent into the Lawrence house yesterday morning?'
"'Oh, yes, sir,' he answered. 'Perfectly sure. I was on duty there allthe time, you know. There were a good many people around, but I knewthem all. I've been a policeman here for twenty years, and there'smighty few people I don't know. The only stranger I noticed the wholemorning was a fellow who stopped to ask me where Miss Kingdon lived.'
"You can guess, Lester, how my heart jumped when I heard that! Well, hedescribed him about as I described him to you----"
"Even to his being a musician?" I asked.
"Well, no," Godfrey laughed. "That was a long shot of my own. But hetold me the fellow was humming a tune all the time he wasn't talking. Hecame along just about eleven o'clock, and asked where Miss Kingdonlived; asked also what was going on at the Lawrence place, and seemedmuch interested in what the policeman told him. He rolled a cigaretteand lighted it as he talked--rolled it, Clemley says, with one twist ofhis fingers, so expertly that Clemley marvelled at it. Finally he wenton to the gate out yonder, and entered the yard. That was all Clemleysaw."
"Did he see him come out again?"
"No--he's certain he didn't come out while he was on duty, which wastill three o'clock in the afternoon. Of course, he may have left by someother way. He could have gone out by the alley at the back of the lot,if he'd wished to avoid being seen."
"And you believe Marcia Lawrence met him here?"
"I'm sure of it. There can be only one explanation of that letter--itdemanded a price for silence; threatened exposure--at the church itself,perhaps, unless the money was paid. Miss Lawrence flew here with whatjewels and money she could lay her hands on at the moment, gave them tohim, and he left; or perhaps she only promised to reward him if he'dkeep the secret--it's doubtful if she had money enough at hand to buyhim off, for his demands wouldn't be modest. At any rate, she got rid ofhim for the moment. But after he had gone, she reflected that she wouldalways be at his mercy, that she could never be Burr Curtiss's legalwife. Suppose she should return to the house and carry through the farceof a marriage ceremony, she would only be preparing for herself an agonyof suffering even more terrible than that which she was then enduring.The time would surely come when she would be unmasked before her lover.She could bear anything but that. She decided to end it--but to end itin such a way that her secret would be safe forever. So she lured himaway upon another trail, then returned here and----" He finished with asignificant gesture at his throat.
I thought it over; then I shook my head.
"It won't do, Godfrey," I said. "It won't hold together. In the firstplace, how did this fellow know about the Kingdons? If he met MissLawrence here, they must be his accomplices."
"I believe they are."
"Granting that, I don't believe Miss Lawrence killed herself. Icertainly don't believe any such fantastic theory as that Miss Kingdonis working away there in the cellar burying the body. Why should sheincur such a risk as that?"
"I've asked myself the same question, depend upon it, Lester."
"And found an answer to it?"
"Not yet."
"Miss Lawrence is on board the _Umbria_," I repeated, trying to convincemyself.
"Then what is Miss Kingdon doing in the cellar?"
"I don't know, but it's not what you think."
"Well," said Godfrey, rising suddenly, "I'm not going to theorise aboutit any longer--I'm going to find out."
"To find out?" I echoed, rising too.
"Yes--I'm going to enter the house."
"But you'll be committing a felony."
"Oh, I don't think I'll have to break in. I believe that door yonder isunlocked, Lester. Lucy Kingdon came out of it, and I'm pretty sure ithasn't been locked since."
"That makes no difference," I pointed out. "If you turn the latch, youare, legally, just as guilty as if you picked the lock."
"Well, I'm going to take the risk," and he stooped over and slipped offhis shoes. "Suppose you stay here and give the alarm if any one comes."
"That would make me an accessory just as much as going along," Iobjected.
He laughed.
"Well, come along, then," he said, and started toward the house; thenstopped and turned toward me. "Have you got a revolver?"
"No; I thought of buying one last night, but this morning it seemedridiculous."
"I think it anything but ridiculous," said Godfrey quietly. "But perhapsit's just as well. A revolver is a dangerous thing for any man who isn'tused to it to carry in his pocket. Now, move as silently as you can, andno talking--not even a whisper."
I have never quite understood the uncontrollable impulse which urged meforward. It was, I think, a feverish desire to know the truth, to solvethis mystery once and for all; but over that, and stronger than that,was the longing to exonerate Miss Lawrence--to prove Godfrey in thewrong. I did not stop then to reason about it; my brain was in a whirl;b
ut I somehow got my shoes off, and caught up with Godfrey just as hecautiously tried the door. It was unlocked; we slipped inside and closedit softly.
I fancy that I felt at that moment much as a thief feels who, havingentered a house, pauses to find if he has been detected, and todetermine the direction of his prey. But Godfrey seemed quiteself-possessed. He drew from his pocket a small electric torch, and senta slender beam of light quivering about the room. We were in a sort ofentry between kitchen and dining-room; the kitchen door stood ajar; weopened it and passed through. Again I caught a faint gleam of light;Godfrey crossed the room softly, entered what I saw afterwards to be apantry, and opened another door.
In an instant, a broad stream of yellow light poured through. It was thedoor to the cellar.
Godfrey lay down cautiously upon the floor, and slowly dropped his headthrough the opening. I was close behind him, and I caught a sound whichsent a sudden chill through me--a sound of shovelling. There was nomistaking it--Godfrey had guessed right. I could hear the shovel scrapeagainst the dirt; I could hear the dirt dropped into a hole----
Godfrey rose to his feet, motioned me to follow, and crept softly downthe stair. Not until I was half-way down, did I perceive that the noisecame not from the main cellar, but from a sort of recess concealed fromus by an angle of the wall. I could see a head bobbing up and down, withthe regular rhythm of the shovel, a head which I recognised as belongingto the elder Miss Kingdon.
We crept forward and gained the shelter of the other wall, when therecame a sudden sound of footsteps overhead. In an instant the light wasextinguished, and I heard the woman cross the cellar and go softly upthe stairs. Then a door opened and shut heavily, a voice called hername, and the steps went on into the front part of the house.
My face was damp with perspiration, as Godfrey seized my hand and pulledme forward, shooting a ray of light before us, round the wall into therecess where Miss Kingdon had been labouring--only to pause,shudderingly, at the brink of a--grave?
It was impossible to tell. Certainly it was a hole which roughlyresembled a grave, though its outlines were jagged and irregular. It wasfilled with loose earth to within about a foot of the level of thecellar floor. A pile of dirt was banked in one corner, and upon it lay apick and shovel.
"Here," whispered Godfrey, and thrust the torch into my hands. "Keepyour finger on this button. I'm going to find out what's buried here."
My hand was shaking so that I could scarcely hold the torch. I saw himseize the shovel and step down into the hole. Then with a little shakeof his head, he laid it carefully down again, and, stooping, beganscooping the loose dirt from one end of the hole with his hands. Iscarcely breathed as I watched him. What _was_ buried here? Whatdreadful thing was about to be revealed?
"Steady, Lester!" whispered Godfrey, and bent again to his task.
But it was foolish to suppose this a grave! It might have been dug forany of a dozen purposes--perhaps the cellar needed draining--perhaps thepipes were out of order--perhaps--but if it had been dug for an innocentpurpose why had Miss Kingdon chosen the middle of the night for thework?
Godfrey stopped with a sudden exclamation, and dropped upon his knees.He laboured for a moment with feverish energy.
"Now, Lester, here!" he said.
I bent down and shot a ray of light into the little hole which he hadmade. Then, in sheer terror, I nearly dropped the torch, for, halfhidden by the clinging earth, lay a shoe--a shoe that was not empty!