CHAPTER IX.
FOR THE SECOND TIME.
Lucy turned to me as soon as it was quite clear that the fellow hadgone.
"Now get up and dress, and go at once to some great lawyer and tell himeverything. To whom shall you go?"
"My dear! At this time of day? By the time that I reach town they'llhave all gone home."
Lucy looked at me in that freezing fashion which has always struck meas being so singularly unsympathetic.
"What do you propose to do?"
"Well, my dear, I think I'll get up and dress, if you don't mind, andhave a little dinner."
"Dinner?"
"Yes, dinner. It's easy enough for you to sneer, but if you'd beenliving on toast and water, which, to some extent, during the last fourdays, I practically have been doing, the prospect of a little decentfood would even appeal to you."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"And you're a man? As, I suppose, is the individual who has just takenhimself out of the house."
"I should be obliged, Lucy, if you would not institute comparisonbetween that vagabond and me. I don't like it. In the morning I willfollow your advice. I will go to a lawyer, and I will place myselfunreservedly in his hands. Just now the thing is out of the question; Ishouldn't find one, to begin with; and, in the second place, I'mhungry."
We had dinner. Or at least I had dinner, and she looked on at me whileI was eating it. Her companionship did not tend to increase one'sappetite. She sat in front of me, bolt upright on her chair, her handsclasped in her lap, eating nothing, and saying nothing either. Sheseemed to be counting every mouthful which I took, as though I wasdoing something of which I ought to be ashamed. I don't know what therewas to be ashamed of. I don't see why a man shouldn't eat, even if heis going to be hanged, especially if he is innocent as a babe unborn,and is about to be made the victim of a judicial murder, as I bade fairto be.
A knock which came at the front door just as I was finishing came as apositive relief. I should have had words with Lucy if she had continuedto sit, like an unblinking statue, in front of me much longer. Theservant announced that the knocker was Mr. Keeley. Adolphus Keeley andI on Fridays play chess together, all through the winter--one week athis house, the next at mine. Owing to my illness, and the preoccupationof my mind and body, I had forgotten that this was Friday, and that itwas his turn to come to me.
When Keeley was announced Lucy looked inquiringly at me.
"Shall I tell Jane to ask Mr. Keeley to excuse you?"
"Certainly not." I had not been by any means looking forward to thepleasurable prospects of a _tete-a-tete_. Keeley came as a relief."Tell Mr. Keeley I will be with him in a minute."
Adolphus Keeley, to be frank, and to use an idiom, is not so wise asthey make them. He is well intentioned, but dull. I have known himpretty well my whole life long, and I can stand as much of him as anyone. But that night I found him particularly trying. He persisted inkeeping the conversation in a groove for which I had a strong distaste.One of his weak points is an inability to see a hint in time to takeit. I not only dropped hints, I threw them at him as hard as I could;but I threw them all away. I had a dreadful time. In preferring hissociety to Lucy's I had stepped from the frying-pan into the fire.
He began as soon as I was in the room.
"Well, Tennant, what do you think about the murder?"
"Murder? What murder?
"The Three Bridges tragedy; isn't it a dreadful thing?"
At the mere mention of the subject a shiver went all over me. I triedto make him see that it was a topic for which I had no relish. I mightas well have tried to put two heads upon his shoulders.
"I have heard scarcely anything about it. I've been ill--very ill."
"I heard that you'd been seedy. Got a bit fluffy on Monday, eh?"
It is true that Mrs. Tennant was not in the room at the moment, but shemight have been just outside the door; and, in any case, theinsinuation was of an unwarrantable kind.
"Got chucked from the Empire, eh? Went home Hackney way, without a hat.I know. Shouldn't be surprised if you have been a little queerish; youlook puffy even now. I tell you what, Tennant, you ought to go in fortraining. I could get a couple of stone off you, and you'd be all thebetter for it. But about this murder. I'm not a bloodthirsty creature,as a rule, but I should like to have the fellow who did it all alone tomyself for about five-and-twenty minutes."
Keeley is one of the large army of muscular maniacs. He stands six feetthree in his socks. He spends most of his spare time in a gymnasium,and the rest in what he calls "keeping himself fit." He could kill mewith a single blow of his fist. Just then Lucy came in.
"Sorry to hear that Tom's been seedy, Mrs. Tennant."
"He's been in bed."
"So I hear. And what do you think of the murder?"
Lucy had brought some work in with her. Seating herself by the fire,she began busying herself with it.
"Do you think it was a murder?"
"I should think it was a murder. What else could it have been?"
"The woman might have fallen out of the train by accident."
"Accident? A lot of that!" I have told Lucy over and over again that,in the presence of ladies, Adolphus Keeley is sometimes brusque to theverge of rudeness. "Do you think that if there had been any accidentabout it, the fellow who was with her wouldn't have given the alarm? Heknew better."
I had been setting out the chessmen on the board, and turned to Keeleywith a pawn in either hand.
"Which hand will you have?"
"Left."
The white pawn was in the left hand. We sat down to play. Still hecontinued to prose. "Fred Courtney wanted to bet that they wouldn'thave the fellow in a month. I should be almost inclined to take shortodds that they'll have him within four-and-twenty hours."
He had moved to king's pawn. I was about to give the usual reply, butwhen he said that my hand faltered on the piece.
"Within four-and-twenty hours? What makes you think that?"
Keeley winked.
"I've heard something, that's all. It's your move."
I moved.
He brought his knight out. I fancy that I brought mine. But I am notsure. I found that, after all, I was not sufficiently recovered to domyself justice over a chessboard. I am more than his match as a rule. Ihave played him three weeks in succession--one night a week--withouthis ever winning a game. But on that occasion I was not a foeman worthyof his steel. He beat me with even ridiculous ease. And directly he hadwon he began again.
"You're fond of murders, aren't you?"
"Fond of murders, Keeley! What do you mean?"
"I've heard you say more than once that you like a first-class murder."
"I don't remember ever having said anything of the sort. It seemsincredible that I could have done. It would have been in directopposition to all my principles."
"Come!--I say!" He looked at me as if to see if I was joking. Iemphatically was not. "I've heard you say that you'd like to be in theposition of a murderer yourself, just for the sake of a new sensation."
"Keeley!"
"I have! And when the Putney mystery was on you took as much interestin it as if it had been a personal matter. Why, you have even talkedabout starting as an amateur detective to see if you couldn't ferretout the business yourself. You used to declare that the fellow who didit deserved flaying alive; and, when I suggested that there might beextenuating circumstances, you used to get quite mad with me."
"My dear Keeley, the Putney mystery belongs to ancient history. Won'tyou have another game?"
"But it seems to me that this Three Bridges business is quite as prettya puzzle. What did he kill her for? They talk about getting up asweepstake in the office. The possible reasons to be put down on piecesof paper, and whoever draws what proves to be the right one when thefellow comes to be tried and hung, to take the sweep. Now, what shouldyou say he killed her for?"
"Would you min
d changing the subject, Keeley. You forget that I havebeen ill, and still am very far from well, and that the topic is hardlyone which is likely to appeal to an invalid's brain. I think I'll havea little whisky, Lucy."
I had a little whisky. In fact I had a fairish quantity; I had to,since I had to bear the burden of Keeley's conversation. Thatparticular topic seemed to be the only one he had inside his head. Heharked back to it nearly every time he opened his mouth. Had I notknown the man I should have concluded that he was doing it out of sheermalignancy. But I did know him. I knew he was thick-headed. Lucy wasnot of the slightest use. She went on sewing in silence, as if allsubjects were indifferent to her.
I was glad when Keeley rose to go. I went with him to the front door tosee him off the premises. After he had gone I remained standing on thesteps to get a mouthful of fresh air. It was a dark night; there was nowind, and there was a suspicion of fog in the air. I was standing onthe bottom step but one. The nearest lamp-post was some distance downthe road. What with the darkness and the mist I could not see any ofthe lamps on the hall doors on the other side of the street. It wasvery quiet. There was not a sound of footsteps nor of any sort oftraffic.
Suddenly, while I was thinking of nothing in particular, except thatKeeley had been making rather a greater ass of himself than hegenerally did, I saw something begin to shape itself in the air infront of me. It did not come all at once, but by degrees. First a dimoutline, then feature after feature, until the whole was there. Itbegan to take the shape of a face. It was a face--a woman's face--herface--Ellen Howth's. For the second time it had come to me, unwatchedfor, undreamed of, unawares, a visitant from the dead--come to me withits awful, staring eyes. There could be no question this time about myhaving drunk too much. I was as sober as I ever was in my life. I cangive no adequate conception of the havoc with which I realised thatthis was so, and that the face was there. It came slowly towards me.The idea of a closer contact was more than I could endure. As itadvanced, I retreated, backwards, up the steps. Still the face came on.I got into the house, and banged the door, as it seemed to me, just intime to shut it out. I staggered against the wall. Lucy came to me, asI stood there trembling.
"I was coming to tell you to come in. You will catch a cold." Then,perceiving my state of agitation, "Tom! What is the matter?"
"Lucy, I have seen a ghost."
"A ghost?"
"As I live and breathe, I have seen a ghost. Oh, my God!"
"Tom!"
"This is the second time I have seen it. I have a premonition that thethird time will mean death."
There came a knocking at the door. Lucy looked at me.
"It is Mr. Keeley back again. The servants have gone to bed. I willopen and see."
It was not Keeley. It was a short, broadly-built man, with a bushybeard. Other men were with him, though I could only just see themstanding in the shadow at the foot of the steps. The bearded manaddressed himself to me--
"Are you Thomas Tennant?"
"That is my name."
"I am a detective. You are my prisoner. I arrest you for wilfulmurder."
Then I saw that the men who had been standing at the foot of the steps,and who now, uninvited, were entering the house, were constables.
BOOK II.--THE CLUB.
(_The Tale is told by Reginald Townsend, Esq_.)