XXIII. THE GREAT MOGUL
Later, it was all explained. Mr. Grey, looking like another man, cameinto the room where I was endeavoring to soothe his startled daughterand devour in secret my own joy. Taking the sweet girl in his arms, hesaid, with a calm ignoring of my presence, at which I secretly smiled:
"This is the happiest moment of my existence, Helen. I feel as if I hadrecovered you from the brink of the grave."
"Me? Why, I have never been so ill as that."
"I know; but I have felt as if you were doomed ever since I heard, orthought I heard, in this city, and under no ordinary circumstances, thepeculiar cry which haunts our house on the eve of any great misfortune.I shall not apologize for my fears; you know that I have good cause forthem, but to-day, only to-day, I have heard from the lips of the mostarrant knave I have ever known, that this cry sprang from himself withintent to deceive me. He knew my weakness; knew the cry; he was inDarlington Manor when Cecilia died; and, wishing to startle me intodropping something which I held, made use of his ventriloquial powers(he had been a mountebank once, poor wretch!) and with such effect, thatI have not been a happy man since, in spite of your daily improvementand continued promise of recovery. But I am happy now, relieved andjoyful; and this miserable being,--would you like to hear his story? Areyou strong enough for anything so tragic? He is a thief and a murderer,but he has feelings, and his life has been a curious one, and strangelyinterwoven with ours. Do you care to hear about it? He is the man whostole our diamond."
My patient uttered a little cry.
"Oh, tell me," she entreated, excited, but not unhealthfully; while Iwas in an anguish of curiosity I could with difficulty conceal.
Mr. Grey turned with courtesy toward me and asked if a few familydetails would bore me. I smiled and assured him to the contrary. Atwhich he settled himself in the chair he liked best and began a talewhich I will permit myself to present to you complete and from otherpoints of view than his own.
Some five years before, one of the great diamonds of the world wasoffered for sale in an Eastern market. Mr. Grey, who stopped at noexpense in the gratification of his taste in this direction, immediatelysent his agent to Egypt to examine this stone. If the agent discoveredit to be all that was claimed for it, and within the reach of a wealthycommoner's purse, he was to buy it. Upon inspection, it was found to beall that was claimed, with one exception. In the center of one of thefacets was a flaw, but, as this was considered to mark the diamond, andrather add to than detract from its value as a traditional stone withmany historical associations, it was finally purchased by Mr. Greyand placed among his treasures in his manor-house in Kent. Never asuspicious man, he took delight in exhibiting this acquisition to suchof his friends and acquaintances as were likely to feel any interest init, and it was not an uncommon thing for him to allow it to pass fromhand to hand while he pottered over his other treasures and displayedthis and that to such as had no eyes for the diamond.
It was after one such occasion that he found, on taking the stone inhis hand to replace it in the safe he had had built for it in one ofhis cabinets, that it did not strike his eye with its usual force andbrilliancy, and, on examining it closely, he discovered the absence ofthe telltale flaw. Struck with dismay, he submitted it to a stillmore rigid inspection, when he found that what he held was not even adiamond, but a worthless bit of glass, which had been substituted bysome cunning knave for his invaluable gem.
For the moment his humiliation almost equaled his sense of loss; he hadbeen so often warned of the danger he ran in letting so priceless anobject pass around under all eyes but his own. His wife and friends hadprophesied some such loss as this, not once, but many times, and hehad always laughed at their fears, saying that he knew his friends, andthere was not a scamp amongst them. But now he saw it proved thateven the intuition of a man well-versed in human nature is not alwaysinfallible, and, ashamed of his past laxness and more ashamed yet of thedoubts which this experience called up in regard to all his friends, heshut up the false stone with his usual care and buried his loss inhis own bosom, till he could sift his impressions and recall with somedegree of probability the circumstances under which this exchange couldhave been made.
It had not been made that evening. Of this he was positive. The onlypersons present on this occasion were friends of such standing andrepute that suspicion in their regard was simply monstrous. When andto whom, then, had he shown the diamond last? Alas, it had been a longmonth since he had shown the jewel. Cecilia, his youngest daughter, haddied in the interim; therefore his mind had not been on jewels. A month!time for his precious diamond to have been carried back to the East!Time for it to have been recut! Surely it was lost to him for ever,unless he could immediately locate the person who had robbed him of it.
But this promised difficulties. He could not remember just what personshe had entertained on that especial day in his little hall of cabinets,and, when he did succeed in getting a list of them from his butler, hewas by no means sure that it included the full number of his guests. Hisown memory was execrable, and, in short, he had but few facts to offerto the discreet agent sent up from Scotland Yard one morning to hearhis complaint and act secretly in his interests. He could give him carteblanche to carry on his inquiries in the diamond market, but littleelse. And while this seemed to satisfy the agent, it did not lead to anygratifying result to himself, and he had thoroughly made up his mind toswallow his loss and say nothing about it, when one day a young cousinof his, living in great style in an adjoining county, informed him thatin some mysterious way he had lost from his collection of arms a uniqueand highly-prized stiletto of Italian workmanship.
Startled by this coincidence, Mr. Grey ventured upon a question or two,which led to his cousin's confiding to him the fact that this articlehad disappeared after a large supper given by him to a number of friendsand gentlemen from London. This piece of knowledge, still furthercoinciding with his own experience, caused Mr. Grey to ask for a listof his guests, in the hope of finding among them one who had been in hisown house.
His cousin, quite unsuspicious of the motives underlying this request,hastened to write out this list, and together they pored over the names,crossing out such as were absolutely above suspicion. When they hadreached the end of the list, but two names remained uncrossed. Onewas that of a rattle-pated youth who had come in the wake of a highlyreputed connection of theirs, and the other that of an American touristwho gave all the evidences of great wealth and had presented lettersto leading men in London which had insured him attentions not usuallyaccorded to foreigners. This man's name was Fairbrother, and, the momentMr. Grey heard it, he recalled the fact that an American with a peculiarname, but with a reputation for wealth, had been among his guests on thesuspected evening.
Hiding the effect produced upon him by this discovery, he placedhis finger on this name and begged his cousin to look up its owner'santecedents and present reputation in America; but, not content withthis, he sent his own agent over to New York--whither, as he soonlearned, this gentleman had returned. The result was an apparentvindication of the suspected American. He was found to be a well-knowncitizen of the great metropolis, moving in the highest circles and witha reputation for wealth won by an extraordinary business instinct.
To be sure, he had not always enjoyed these distinctions. Like manyanother self-made man, he had risen from a menial position in a Westernmining camp, to be the owner of a mine himself, and so up through thevarious gradations of a successful life to a position among the foremostbusiness men of New York. In all these changes he had maintained aname for honest, if not generous, dealing. He lived in great style, hadmarried and was known to have but one extravagant fancy. This was forthe unique and curious in art,--a taste which, if report spoke true,cost him many thousands each year.
This last was the only clause in the report which pointed in any waytoward this man being the possible abstractor of the Great Mogul, as Mr.Grey's famous diamond was called, and the latter was too just a man an
dtoo much of a fancier in this line himself to let a fact of this kindweigh against the favorable nature of the rest. So he recalled hisagent, double-locked his cabinets and continued to confine his displayof valuables to articles which did not suggest jewels. Thus three yearspassed, when one day he heard mention made of a wonderful diamond whichhad been seen in New York. From its description he gathered that it mustbe the one surreptitiously abstracted from his cabinet, and when, aftersome careful inquiries, he learned that the name of its possessor wasFairbrother, he awoke to his old suspicions and determined to probe thismatter to the bottom. But secretly. He still had too much considerationto attack a man in high position without full proof.
Knowing of no one he could trust with so delicate an inquiry as thishad now become, he decided to undertake it himself, and for this purposeembraced the first opportunity to cross the water. He took his daughterwith him because he had resolved never to let his one remaining childout of his sight. But she knew nothing of his plans or reason fortravel. No one did. Indeed, only his lawyer and the police were aware ofthe loss of his diamond.
His first surprise on landing was to learn that Mr. Fairbrother, ofwhose marriage he had heard, had quarreled with his wife and that, inthe separation which had occurred, the diamond had fallen to her shareand was consequently in her possession at the present moment.
This changed matters, and Mr. Grey's only thought now was to surpriseher with the diamond on her person and by one glance assure himself thatit was indeed the Great Mogul. Since Mrs. Fairbrother was reported tobe a beautiful woman and a great society belle, he saw no reason why heshould not meet her publicly, and that very soon. He therefore acceptedinvitations and attended theaters and balls, though his daughter hadsuffered from her voyage and was not able to accompany him. But alas! hesoon learned that Mrs. Fairbrother was never seen with her diamond and,one evening after an introduction at the opera, that she nevertalked about it. So there he was, balked on the very threshold of hisenterprise, and, recognizing the fact, was preparing to take his nowseriously ailing daughter south, when he received an invitation to aball of such a select character that he decided to remain for it, in thehope that Mrs. Fairbrother would be tempted to put on all her splendorfor so magnificent a function and thus gratify him with a sight of hisown diamond. During the days that intervened he saw her several timesand very soon decided that, in spite of her reticence in regard to thisgem, she was not sufficiently in her husband's confidence to know thesecret of its real ownership. This encouraged him to attempt piquing herinto wearing the diamond on this occasion. He talked of precious stonesand finally of his own, declaring that he had a connoisseur's eye fora fine diamond, but had seen none as yet in America to compete with aspecimen or two he had in his own cabinets. Her eye flashed at thisand, though she said nothing, he felt sure that her presence at Mr.Ramsdell's house would be enlivened by her great jewel.
So much for Mr. Grey's attitude in this matter up to the night of theball. It is interesting enough, but that of Abner Fairbrother is moreinteresting still and much more serious.
His was indeed the hand which had abstracted the diamond from Mr. Grey'scollection. Under ordinary conditions he was an honest man. He prizedhis good name and would not willingly risk it, but he had little realconscience, and once his passions were aroused nothing short of theobject desired would content him. At once forceful and subtle, he had athis command infinite resources which his wandering and eventful life hadheightened almost to the point of genius. He saw this stone, and atonce felt an inordinate desire to possess it. He had coveted other men'streasures before, but not as he coveted this. What had been longingin other cases was mania in this. There was a woman in America whom heloved. She was beautiful and she was splendor-loving. To see her withthis glory on her breast would be worth almost any risk which hisimagination could picture at the moment. Before the diamond had lefthis hand he had made up his mind to have it for his own. He knew that itcould not be bought, so he set about obtaining it by an act he didnot hesitate to acknowledge to himself as criminal. But he did not actwithout precautions. Having a keen eye and a proper sense or size andcolor, he carried away from his first view of it a true image of thestone, and when he was next admitted to Mr. Grey's cabinet room hehad provided the means for deceiving the owner whose character he hadsounded.
He might have failed in his daring attempt if he had not been favoredby a circumstance no one could have foreseen. A daughter of thehouse, Cecilia by name, lay critically ill at the time, and Mr. Grey'sattention was more or less distracted. Still the probabilities are thathe would have noticed something amiss with the stone when he came torestore it to its place, if, just as he took it in his hand, therehad not risen in the air outside a weird and wailing cry which at onceseized upon the imagination of the dozen gentlemen present, and sonearly prostrated their host that he thrust the box he held unopenedinto the safe and fell upon his knees, a totally unnerved man, crying:
"The banshee! the banshee! My daughter will die!"
Another hand than his locked the safe and dropped the key into thedistracted father's pocket.
Thus a superhuman daring conjoined with a special intervention of fatehad made the enterprise a successful one; and Fairbrother, believingmore than ever in his star, carried this invaluable jewel back with himto New York. The stiletto--well, the taking of that was a folly, forwhich he had never ceased to blush. He had not stolen it; he would notsteal so inconsiderable an object. He had merely put it in his pocketwhen he saw it forgotten, passed over, given to him, as it were. Thatthe risk, contrary to that involved in the taking of the diamond,was far in excess of the gratification obtained, he realized almostimmediately, but, having made the break, and acquired the curio, hespared himself all further thought or the consequences, and presentlyresumed his old life in New York, none the worse, to all appearances,for these escapades from virtue and his usual course of fair and opendealing.
But he was soon the worse from jealousy of the wife which hisnew possession had possibly won for him. She had answered all hisexpectations as mistress of his home and the exponent of his wealth; andfor a year, nay, for two, he had been perfectly happy. Indeed, hehad been more than that; he had been triumphant, especially on thatmemorable evening when, after a cautious delay of months, he had daredto pin that unapproachable sparkler to her breast and present her thusbedecked to the smart set--her whom his talents, and especially hisfar-reaching business talents, had made his own.
Recalling the old days of barter and sale across the pine counter inColorado, he felt that his star rode high, and for a time wassatisfied with his wife's magnificence and the prestige she gavehis establishment. But pride is not all, even to a man of his daringambition. Gradually he began to realize, first, that she was indifferentto him, next, that she despised him, and, lastly, that she hated him.She had dozens at her feet, any of whom was more agreeable to her thanher own husband; and, though he could not put his finger on any definitefault, he soon wearied of a beauty that only glowed for others, and madeup his mind to part with her rather than let his heart be eaten out byunappeasable longing for what his own good sense told him would never behis.
Yet, being naturally generous, he was satisfied with a separation, and,finding it impossible to think of her as other than extravagantly fed,waited on and clothed, he allowed her a good share of his fortune withthe one proviso, that she should not disgrace him. But the diamond shestole, or rather carried off in her naturally high-handed manner withthe rest of her jewels. He had never given it to hen She knew the valuehe set on it, but not how he came by it, and would have worn it quitefreely if he had not very soon given her to understand that the pleasureof doing so ceased when she left his house. As she could not be seenwith it without occasioning public remark, she was forced, thoughmuch against her will, to heed his wishes, and enjoy its brilliancy inprivate. But once, when he was out of town, she dared to appear withthis fortune on her breast, and again while on a visit West,--and herhusband heard of it.
Mr. Fairbrother had had the jewel set to suit him, not in Florence,as Sears had said, but by a skilful workman he had picked up in greatpoverty in a remote corner of Williamsburg. Always in dread of somecomplication, he had provided himself with a second facsimile in paste,this time of an astonishing brightness, and this facsimile he had hadset precisely like the true stone. Then he gave the workman a thousanddollars and sent him back to Switzerland. This imitation in paste heshowed nobody, but he kept it always in his pocket; why, he hardly knew.Meantime, he had one confidant, not of his crime, but of his sentimentstoward his wife, and the determination he had secretly made to proceedto extremities if she continued to disobey him.
This was a man of his own age or older, who had known him in his earlydays, and had followed all his fortunes. He had been the master ofFairbrother then, but he was his servant now, and as devoted to hisinterests as if they were his own,--which, in a way, they were. Foreighteen years he had stood at the latter's right hand, satisfied tolook no further, but, for the last three, his glances had strayed a footor two beyond his master, and taken in his master's wife.
The feelings which this man had for Mrs. Fairbrother were peculiar. Shewas a mere adjunct to her great lord, but she was a very gorgeous one,and, while he could not imagine himself doing anything to thwart himwhose bread he ate, and to whose rise he had himself contributed, yetif he could remain true to him without injuring he; he would accounthimself happy. The day came when he had to decide between them, and,against all chances, against his own preconceived notion of what hewould do under these circumstances, he chose to consider her.
This day came when, in the midst of growing complacency and an intenseinterest in some new scheme which demanded all his powers, AbnerFairbrother learned from the papers that Mr. Grey, of EnglishParliamentary fame, had arrived in New York on an indefinite visit. Asno cause was assigned for the visit beyond a natural desire on the partof this eminent statesman to see this great country, Mr. Fairbrother'sfears reached a sudden climax, and he saw himself ruined and for everdisgraced if the diamond now so unhappily out of his hands should fallunder the eyes of its owner, whose seeming quiet under its loss had notfor a moment deceived him. Waiting only long enough to make sure thatthe distinguished foreigner was likely to accept social attentions, andso in all probability would be brought in contact with Mrs. Fairbrother,he sent her by his devoted servant a peremptory message, in which hedemanded back his diamond; and, upon her refusing to heed this, followedit up by another, in which he expressly stated that if she took it outof the safe deposit in which he had been told she was wise enough tokeep it, or wore it so much as once during the next three months, shewould pay for her presumption with her life.
This was no idle threat, though she chose to regard it as such, laughingin the old servant's face and declaring that she would run the risk ifthe notion seized her. But the notion did not seem to seize her at once,and her husband was beginning to take heart, when he heard of the greatball about to be given by the Ramsdells and realized that if she weregoing to be tempted to wear the diamond at all, it would be at thisbrilliant function given in honor of the one man he had most cause tofear in the whole world.
Sears, seeing the emotion he was under, watched him closely. They hadboth been on the point of starting for New Mexico to visit a mine inwhich Mr. Fairbrother was interested, and he waited with inconceivableanxiety to see if his master would change his plans. It was while hewas in this condition of mind that he was seen to shake his fist at Mrs.Fairbrother's passing figure; a menace naturally interpreted as directedagainst her, but which, if we know the man, was rather the expression ofhis anger against the husband who could rebuke and threaten so beautifula creature. Meanwhile, Mr. Fairbrother's preparations went on and, threeweeks before the ball, they started. Mr. Fairbrother had business inChicago and business in Denver. It was two weeks and more before hereached La Junta. Sears counted the days. At La Junta they had a longconversation; or rather Mr. Fairbrother talked and Sears listened. Thesum of what he said was this: He had made up his mind to have back hisdiamond. He was going to New York to get it. He was going alone, and ashe wished no one to know that he had gone or that his plans had beenin any way interrupted, the other was to continue on to El Moro, and,passing himself off as Fairbrother, hire a room at the hotel and shuthimself up in it for ten days on any plea his ingenuity might suggest.If at the end of that time Fairbrother should rejoin him, well and good.They would go on together to Santa Fe. But if for any reason the formershould delay his return, then Sears was to exercise his own judgment asto the length of time he should retain his borrowed personality; also asto the advisability of pushing on to the mine and entering on the workthere, as had been planned between them.
Sears knew what all this meant. He understood what was in his master'smind, as well as if he had been taken into his full confidence, andopenly accepted his part of the business with seeming alacrity, even tothe point of supplying Fairbrother with suitable references as to theability of one James Wellgood to fill a waiter's place at fashionablefunctions. It was not the first he had given him. Seventeen years beforehe had written the same, minus the last phrase. That was when he wasthe master and Fairbrother the man. But he did not mean to play thepart laid out for him, for all his apparent acquiescence. He began byfollowing the other's instructions. He exchanged clothes with him andother necessaries, and took the train for La Junta at or near the timethat Fairbrother started east. But once at El Moro--once registeredthere as Abner Fairbrother from New York--he took a different coursefrom the one laid out for him,--a course which finally brought him intohis master's wake and landed him at the same hour in New York.
This is what he did. Instead of shutting himself up in his room heexpressed an immediate desire to visit some neighboring mines, and,procuring a good horse, started off at the first available moment. Herode north, lost himself in the mountains, and wandered till he found aguide intelligent enough to lend himself to his plans. To this guide heconfided his horse for the few days he intended to be gone, payinghim well and promising him additional money if, during his absence, hesucceeded in circulating the report that he, Abner Fairbrother, had gonedeep into the mountains, bound for such and such a camp.
Having thus provided an alibi, not only for himself, but for his master,too, in case he should need it, he took the direct road to the nearestrailway station, and started on his long ride east. He did not expect toovertake the man he had been personating, but fortune was kinder than isusual in such cases, and, owing to a delay caused by some accident toa freight train, he arrived in Chicago within a couple of hours of Mr.Fairbrother, and started out of that city on the same train. But not onthe same car. Sears had caught a glimpse of Fairbrother on the platform,and was careful to keep out of his sight. This was easy enough. Hebought a compartment in the sleeper and stayed in it till they arrivedat the Grand Central Station. Then he hastened out and, fortune favoringhim with another glimpse of the man in whose movements he was sointerested, followed him into the streets.
Fairbrother had shaved off his beard before leaving El Moro. Sears hadshaved his off on the train. Both were changed, the former the more,owing to a peculiarity of his mouth which up till now he had alwaysthought best to cover. Sears, therefore, walked behind him without fear,and was almost at his heels when this owner of one of New York's mostnotable mansions, entered, with a spruce air, the doors of a prominentcaterer.
Understanding the plot now, and having everything to fear for hismistress, he walked the streets for some hours in a state of greatindecision. Then he went up to her apartment. But he had no sooner comewithin sight of it than a sense of disloyalty struck him and he slunkaway, only to come sidling back when it was too late and she had startedfor the ball.
Trembling with apprehension, but still strangely divided in hisimpulses, wishing to serve master and mistress both, without disloyaltyto the one or injury to the other, he hesitated and argued with himself,till his fears for the latter drove him to Mr. Ramsdell's house.
The night was a stormy one. The heaviest snow of the season was fallingwith a high gale blowing down the Sound. As he approached the house,which, as we know, is one of the modern ones in the Riverside district,he felt his heart fail him. But as he came nearer and got the fulleffect of glancing lights, seductive music, and the cheery bustle ofcrowding carriages, he saw in his mind's eye such a picture of hisbeautiful mistress, threatened, unknown to herself, in a quarter shelittle realized, that he lost all sense of what had hitherto deterredhim. Making then and there his great choice, he looked about for theentrance, with the full intention of seeing and warning her.
But this, he presently perceived, was totally impracticable. He couldneither go to her nor expect her to come to him; meanwhile, time waspassing, and if his master was there--The thought made his head dizzy,and, situated as he was, among the carriages, he might have been runover in his confusion if his eyes had not suddenly fallen on a lightedwindow, the shade of which had been inadvertently left up.
Within this window, which was only a few feet above his head, stood theglowing image of a woman clad in pink and sparkling with jewels. Herface was turned from him, but he recognized her splendor as that of theone woman who could never be too gorgeous for his taste; and, alive tothis unexpected opportunity, he made for this window with the intentionof shouting up to her and so attracting her attention.
But this proved futile, and, driven at last to the end of his resources,he tore out a slip of paper from his note-book and, in the dark and withthe blinding snow in his eyes, wrote the few broken sentences which hethought would best warn her, without compromising his master. The meanshe took to reach her with this note I have already related. As soon ashe saw it in her hands he fled the place and took the first train west.He was in a pitiable condition, when, three days later, he reachedthe small station from which he had originally set out. The haste, theexposure, the horror of the crime he had failed to avert, had underminedhis hitherto excellent constitution, and the symptoms of a seriousillness were beginning to make themselves manifest. But he, like hisindomitable master, possessed a great fund of energy and willpower.He saw that if he was to save Abner Fairbrother (and now that Mrs.Fairbrother was dead, his old master was all the world to him) he mustmake Fairbrother's alibi good by carrying on the deception as plannedby the latter, and getting as soon as possible to his camp in the NewMexico mountains. He knew that he would have strength to do this and hewent about it without sparing himself.
Making his way into the mountains, he found the guide and his horse atthe place agreed upon and, paying the guide enough for his services toinsure a quiet tongue, rode back toward El Moro where he was met andsent on to Santa Fe as already related.
Such is the real explanation of the well-nigh unintelligible scrawlfound in Mrs. Fairbrother's hand after her death. As to the one whichleft Miss Grey's bedside for this same house, it was, alike in thewriting and sending, the loving freak of a very sick but tender-heartedgirl. She had noted the look with which Mr. Grey had left her, and, inher delirious state, thought that a line in her own hand would convincehim of her good condition and make it possible for him to enjoy theevening. She was, however, too much afraid of her nurse to write itopenly, and though we never found that scrawl, it was doubtless not verydifferent in appearance from the one with which I had confounded it. Theman to whom it was intrusted stopped for too many warming drinks on hisway for it ever to reach Mr. Ramsdell's house. He did not even returnhome that night, and when he did put in an appearance the next morning,he was dismissed.
This takes me back to the ball and Mrs. Fairbrother. She had never hadmuch fear of her husband till she received his old servant's note in thepeculiar manner already mentioned. This, coming through the night andthe wet and with all the marks of hurry upon it, did impress her greatlyand led her to take the first means which offered of ridding herself ofher dangerous ornament. The story of this we know.
Meanwhile, a burning heart and a scheming brain were keeping up theirdeadly work a few paces off under the impassive aspect and activemovements of the caterer's newly-hired waiter. Abner Fairbrother, whosereal character no one had ever been able to sound, unless it was the manwho had known him in his days of struggle, was one of those dangerousmen who can conceal under a still brow and a noiseless manner the mostviolent passions and the most desperate resolves. He was angry with hiswife, who was deliberately jeopardizing his good name, and he had comethere to kill her if he found her flaunting the diamond in Mr. Grey'seyes; and though no one could have detected any change in his look andmanner as he passed through the room where these two were standing, thedoom of that fair woman was struck when he saw the eager scrutinyand indescribable air of recognition with which this long-defraudedgentleman eyed his own diamond.
He had meant to attack her openly, seize the diamond, fling it at Mr.Grey's feet, and then kill himself. That had been his plan. But when hefound, after a round or two among the guests, that nobody looked at him,and nobody recognized the well-known millionaire in the automaton-likefigure with the formally-arranged whiskers and sleekly-combed hair,colder purposes intervened, and he asked himself if it would not bepossible to come upon her alone, strike his blow, possess himself ofthe diamond, and make for parts unknown before his identity could bediscovered. He loved life even without the charm cast over it by thiswoman. Its struggles and its hard-bought luxuries fascinated him. IfMr. Grey suspected him, why, Mr. Grey was English, and he a resourcefulAmerican. If it came to an issue, the subtle American would win if Mr.Grey were not able to point to the flaw which marked this diamond as hisown. And this, Fairbrother had provided against, and would succeed in ifhe could hold his passions in check and be ready with all his wit whenmatters reached a climax.
Such were the thoughts and such the plans of the quiet, attentiveman who, with his tray laden with coffee and ices, came and went anunnoticed unit among twenty other units similarly quiet and similarlyattentive. He waited on lady after lady, and when, on the reissuing ofMr. Durand from the alcove, he passed in there with his tray and his twocups of coffee, nobody heeded and nobody remembered.
It was all over in a minute, and he came out, still unnoted, and wentto the supper-room for more cups of coffee. But that minute had set itsseal on his heart for ever. She was sitting there alone with her sideto the entrance, so that he had to pass around in order to face her. Herelegance and a certain air she had of remoteness from the scene of whichshe was the glowing center when she smiled, awed him and made his handloosen a little on the slender stiletto he held close against the bottomof the tray. But such resolution does not easily yield, and his fingerssoon tightened again, this time with a deadly grip.
He had expected to meet the flash of the diamond as he bent over her,and dreaded doing so for fear it would attract his eye from her face andso cost him the sight of that startled recognition which would give thedesired point to his revenge. But the tray, as he held it, shielded herbreast from view, and when he lowered it to strike his blow, he thoughtof nothing but aiming so truly as to need no second blow. He had hadhis experience in those old years in a mining camp, and he did notfear failure in this. What he did fear was her utterance of somecry,--possibly his name. But she was stunned with horror, and did notshriek,--horror of him whose eyes she met with her glassy and staringones as he slowly drew forth the weapon.
Why he drew it forth instead of leaving it in her breast he could notsay. Possibly because it gave him his moment of gloating revenge. Whenin another instant, her hands flew up, and the tray tipped, and thechina fell, the revulsion came, and his eyes opened to two facts: theinstrument of death was still in his grasp, and the diamond, on whosepossession he counted, was gone from his wife's breast.
It was a horrible moment. Voices could be heard approaching thealcove,--laughing voices that in an instant would take on the note ofhorror. And the music,--ah! how low it had sunk, as if to give place tothe dying murmur he now heard issuing from her lips. But he was a man ofiron. Thrusting the stiletto into the f
irst place that offered, he drewthe curtains over the staring windows, then slid out with his tray,calm, speckless and attentive as ever, dead to thought, dead to feeling,but aware, quite aware in the secret depths of his being that somethingbesides his wife had been killed that night, and that sleep and peace ofmind and all pleasure in the past were gone for ever.
It was not he I saw enter the alcove and come out with news of thecrime. He left this role to one whose antecedents could better bearinvestigation. His part was to play, with just the proper display ofhorror and curiosity, the ordinary menial brought face to face with acrime in high life. He could do this. He could even sustain his sharein the gossip, and for this purpose kept near the other waiters. Theabsence of the diamond was all that troubled him. That brought him attimes to the point of vertigo. Had Mr. Grey recognized and claimed it?If so, he, Abner Fairbrother, must remain James Wellgood, the waiter,indefinitely. This would require more belief in his star than ever hehad had yet. But as the moments passed, and no contradiction was givento the universally-received impression that the same hand which hadstruck the blow had taken the diamond, even this cause of anxiety lefthis breast and he faced people with more and more courage till themoment when he suddenly heard that the diamond had been found in thepossession of a man perfectly strange to him, and saw the inspector passit over into the hands of Mr. Grey.
Instantly he realized that the crisis of his fate was on him. If Mr.Grey were given time to identify this stone, he, Abner Fairbrother, waslost and the diamond as well. Could he prevent this? There was but oneway, and that way he took. Making use of his ventriloquial powers--hehad spent a year on the public stage in those early days, playing justsuch tricks as these--he raised the one cry which he knew would startleMr. Grey more than any other in the world, and when the diamond fellfrom his hand, as he knew it would, he rushed forward and, in the act ofpicking it up, made that exchange which not only baffled the suspicionsof the statesman, but restored to him the diamond, for whose possessionhe was now ready to barter half his remaining days.
Meanwhile Mr. Grey had had his own anxieties. During this whole longevening, he had been sustained by the conviction that the diamond ofwhich he had caught but one passing glimpse was the Great Mogul of hisonce famous collection. So sure was he of this, that at one moment hefound himself tempted to enter the alcove, demand a closer sight of thediamond and settle the question then and there. He even went so far asto take in his hands the two cups of coffee which should serve as hisexcuse for this intrusion, but his naturally chivalrous instincts againintervened, and he set the cups down again--this I did not see--andturned his steps toward the library with the intention of writing her anote instead. But though he found paper and pen to hand, he could findno words for so daring a request, and he came back into the hall, onlyto hear that the woman he had contemplated addressing had just beenmurdered and her great jewel stolen.
The shock was too much, and as there was no leaving the house then,he retreated again to the library where he devoured his anxietiesin silence till hope revived again at sight of the diamond in theinspector's hand, only to vanish under the machinations of one he didnot even recognize when he took the false jewel from his hand.
The American had outwitted the Englishman and the triumph of evil wascomplete.
Or so it seemed. But if the Englishman is slow, he is sure. Thrown offthe track for the time being, Mr. Grey had only to see a picture of thestiletto in the papers, to feel again that, despite all appearances,Fairbrother was really not only at the bottom of the thefts from whichhis cousin and himself had suffered, but of this frightful murder aswell. He made no open move--he was a stranger in a strange land andmuch disturbed, besides, by his fears for his daughter--but he started asecret inquiry through his old valet, whom he ran across in the street,and whose peculiar adaptability for this kind of work he well knew.
The aim of these inquiries was to determine if the person, whom twophysicians and three assistants were endeavoring to nurse back to healthon the top of a wild plateau in a remote district of New Mexico, wasthe man he had once entertained at his own board in England, and theadventures thus incurred would make a story in itself. But the resultseemed to justify them. Word came after innumerable delays, very tryingto Mr. Grey, that he was not the same, though he bore the name ofFairbrother, and was considered by every one around there to beFairbrother. Mr. Grey, ignorant of the relations between the millionairemaster and his man which sometimes led to the latter's personifying theformer, was confident of his own mistake and bitterly ashamed of his ownsuspicions.
But a second message set him right. A deception was being practiseddown in New Mexico, and this was how his spy had found it out. Certainletters which went into the sick tent were sent away again, and alwaysto one address. He had learned the address. It was that of JamesWellgood, C--, Maine. If Mr. Grey would look up this Wellgood he woulddoubtless learn something of the man he was so interested in.
This gave Mr. Grey personally something to do, for he would trust nosecond party with a message involving the honor of a possibly innocentman. As the place was accessible by railroad and his duty clear, he tookthe journey involved and succeeded in getting a glimpse in the manner weknow of the man James Wellgood. This time he recognized Fairbrother and,satisfied from the circumstances of the moment that he would bemaking no mistake in accusing him of having taken the Great Mogul, heintercepted him in his flight, as you have already read, and demandedthe immediate return of his great diamond.
And Fairbrother? We shall have to go back a little to bring his historyup to this critical instant.
When he realized the trend of public opinion; when he saw a perfectlyinnocent man committed to the Tombs for his crime, he was firstastonished and then amused at what he continued to regard as the triumphof his star. But he did not start for El Moro, wise as he felt it wouldbe to do so. Something of the fascination usual with criminals kepthim near the scene of his crime,--that, and an anxiety to see how Searswould conduct himself in the Southwest. That Sears had followed him toNew York, knew his crime, and was the strongest witness against him, wasas far from his thoughts as that he owed him the warning which had allbut balked him of his revenge. When therefore he read in the papers that"Abner Fairbrother" had been found sick in his camp at Santa Fe, he feltthat nothing now stood in the way of his entering on the plans he hadframed for ultimate escape. On his departure from El Moro he had takenthe precaution of giving Sears the name of a certain small town onthe coast of Maine where his mail was to be sent in case of a greatemergency. He had chosen this town for two reasons. First, because heknew all about it, having had a young man from there in his employ;secondly, because of its neighborhood to the inlet where an oldlaunch of his had been docked for the winter. Always astute, alwaysprecautionary, he had given orders to have this launch floated andprovisioned, so that now he had only to send word to the captain, tohave at his command the best possible means of escape.
Meanwhile, he must make good his position in C--. He did it in the waywe know. Satisfied that the only danger he need fear was the discoveryof the fraud practised in New Mexico, he had confidence enough in Sears,even in his present disabled state, to take his time and make himselfsolid with the people of C--while waiting for the ice to disappear fromthe harbor. This accomplished and cruising made possible, he took aflying trip to New York to secure such papers and valuables as he wishedto carry out of the country with him. They were in safe deposit, butthat safe deposit was in his strong room in the center of his house inEighty-sixth Street (a room which you will remember in connection withSweetwater's adventure). To enter his own door with his own latch-key,in the security and darkness of a stormy night, seemed to thisself-confident man a matter of no great risk. Nor did he find it so.He reached his strong room, procured his securities and was leavingthe house, without having suffered an alarm, when some instinct ofself-preservation suggested to him the advisability of arming himselfwith a pistol. His own was in Maine, but he remembered where Sears kepthis; he
had seen it often enough in that old trunk he had brought withhim from the Sierras. He accordingly went up stairs to the steward'sroom, found the pistol and became from that instant invincible. But inrestoring the articles he had pulled out he came across a photographof his wife and lost himself over it and went mad, as we have heard thedetective tell. That later, he should succeed in trapping this detectiveand should leave the house without a qualm as to his fate shows whatsort of man he was in moments of extreme danger. I doubt, from what Ihave heard of him since, if he ever gave two thoughts to the man afterhe had sprung the double lock on him; which, considering his extremeignorance of who his victim was or what relation he bore to his ownfate, was certainly remarkable.
Back again in C--, he made his final preparations for departure. He hadalready communicated with the captain of the launch, who may or may nothave known his passenger's real name. He says that he supposed him to besome agent of Mr. Fairbrother's; that among the first orders he receivedfrom that gentleman was one to the effect that he was to follow theinstructions of one Wellgood as if they came from himself; that he haddone so, and not till he had Mr. Fairbrother on board had he known whomhe was expected to carry into other waters. However, there are manywho do not believe the captain. Fairbrother had a genius for rousingdevotion in the men who worked for him, and probably this man wasanother Sears.
To leave speculation, all was in train, then, and freedom but a quarterof a mile away, when the boat he was in was stopped by another and heheard Mr. Grey's voice demanding the jewel.
The shock was severe and he had need of all the nerve which had hithertomade his career so prosperous, to sustain the encounter with thecalmness which alone could carry off the situation. Declaring that thediamond was in New York, he promised to restore it if the other wouldmake the sacrifice worth while by continuing to preserve his hithertoadmirable silence concerning him: Mr. Grey responded by granting himjust twenty-four hours; and when Fairbrother said the time was notlong enough and allowed his hand to steal ominously to his breast, herepeated still more decisively, "Twenty-four hours."
The ex-miner honored bravery. Withdrawing his hand from his breast,he brought out a note-book instead of a pistol and, in a tone fully asdetermined, replied: "The diamond is in a place inaccessible to any onebut myself. If you will put your name to a promise not to betray me forthe thirty-six hours I ask, I will sign one to restore you the diamondbefore one-thirty o'clock on Friday."
"I will," said Mr. Grey.
So the promises were written and duly exchanged. Mr. Grey returned toNew York and Fairbrother boarded his launch.
The diamond really was in New York, and to him it seemed more politic touse it as a means of securing Mr. Grey's permanent silence than to flythe country, leaving a man behind him who knew his secret and couldprecipitate his doom with a word. He would, therefore, go to New York,play his last great card and, if he lost, be no worse off than he wasnow. He did not mean to lose.
But he had not calculated on any inherent weakness in himself,--had notcalculated on Providence. A dish tumbled and with it fell into chaos thefair structure of his dreams. With the cry of "Grizel! Grizel!" he gaveup his secret, his hopes and his life. There was no retrieval possibleafter that. The star of Abner Fairbrother had set.
Mr. Grey and his daughter learned very soon of my relations to Mr.Durand, but through the precautions of the inspector and my own powersof self-control, no suspicion has ever crossed their minds of the part Ionce played in the matter of the stiletto.
This was amply proved by the invitation Mr. Durand and I have justreceived to spend our honeymoon at Darlington Manor.
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