Hand and Ring by Anna Katharine Green (pride and prejudice read TXT) 📕

a voice that, despite his marked self-control, showed the presence of genuine emotion.

Mr. Gryce at once went into particulars. He was anxious to have Craik Mansell's mind disabused of the notion that Imogene had committed this crime, since upon that notion he believed his unfortunate reticence to rest. He therefore gave him a full relation of the scene in the hut, together with all its consequences.

Mr. Mansell listened like a man in a dream. Some fact in the past evidently made this story incredible to him.

Seeing it, Mr. Gryce did not wait to hear his comments, but upon finishing his account, exclaimed, with a confident air:

"Such testimony is conclusive. It is impossible to consider Miss Dare guilty, after an insight of this kind into the real state of her mind. Even she has seen the uselessness of persisting in her self-accusation, and, as I have already told you, went to Mr. Orcutt's house in order to explain to him her past conduct, and ask his advice for the future. She learned something else before her interview with Mr. Orcutt ended," continued the detective, impressively. "She learned that she had not only been mistaken in supposing you had admitted your guilt, but that you could not have been guilty, because you had always believed her to be so. It has been a mutual case of suspicion, you see, and argues innocence on the part of you both. Or so it seems to the prosecution. How does it seem to you?"

"Would it help my cause to say?"

"It would help your cause to tell what sent you so abruptly from Mrs. Clemmens' house the morning she was murdered."

"I do not see how," returned the prisoner.

The glance of Mr. Gryce settled confidentially on his right hand where it lay outspread upon his ample knee.

"Mr. Mansell," he inquired, "have you no curiosity to know any details of the accident by which you have unexpectedly been deprived of a counsel?"

Evidently surprised at this sudden change of subject, Craik replied:

"If I had not hoped you would understand my anxiety and presently relieve it, I could not have shown you as much patience as I have."

"Very well," rejoined Mr. Gryce, altering his manner with a suddenness that evidently alarmed his listener. "Mr. Orcutt did not die immediately after he was struck down. He lived some hours; lived to say some words that have materially changed the suspicions of persons interested in the case he was defending."

"Mr. Orcutt?"

The tone was one of surprise. Mr. Gryce's little finger seemed to take note of it, for it tapped the leg beneath it in quite an emphatic manner as he continued: "It was in answer to a question put to him by Miss Dare. To the surprise of every one, she had not left him from the moment they were mutually relieved from the weight of the fallen limb, but had stood over him for hours, watching for him to rouse from his insensibility. When he did, she appealed to him in a way that showed she expected a reply, to tell her who it was that killed the Widow Clemmens."

"And did Mr. Orcutt know?" was Mansell's half-agitated, half-incredulous query.

"His answer seemed to show that he did. Mr. Mansell, have you ever had any doubts of Mr. Orcutt?"

"Doubts?"

"Doubts as to his integrity, good-heartedness, or desire to serve you?"

"No."

"You will, then, be greatly surprised," Mr. Gryce went on, with increased gravity, "when I tell you that Mr. Orcutt's reply to Miss Dare's question was such as to draw attention to himself as the assassin of Widow Clemmens, and that his words and the circumstances under which they were uttered have so impressed Mr. Ferris, that the question now agitating his mind is not, 'Is Craik Mansell innocent, but was his counsel, Tremont Orcutt, guilty?'"

The excited look which had appeared on the face of Mansell at the beginning of this speech, changed to one of strong disgust.

"This is too much!" he cried. "I am not a fool to be caught by any such make-believe as this! Mr. Orcutt thought to be an assassin? You might as well say that people accuse Judge Evans of killing the Widow Clemmens."

Mr. Gryce, who had perhaps stretched a point when he so unequivocally declared his complete confidence in the innocence of the man before him, tapped his leg quite affectionately at this burst of natural indignation, and counted off another point in favor of the prisoner. His words, however, were dry as sarcasm could make them.

"No," said he, "for people know that Judge Evans was without the opportunity for committing this murder, while every one remembers how Mr. Orcutt went to the widow's house and came out again with tidings of her death."

The prisoner's lip curled disdainfully.

"And do you expect me to believe you regard this as a groundwork for suspicion? I should have given you credit for more penetration, sir."

"Then you do not think Mr. Orcutt knew what he was saying when, in answer to Miss Dare's appeal for him to tell who the murderer was, he answered: 'Blood will have blood!' and drew attention to his own violent end?"

"Did Mr. Orcutt say that?"

"He did."

"Very well, a man whose whole mind has for some time been engrossed with defending another man accused of murder, might say any thing while in a state of delirium."

Mr. Gryce uttered his favorite "Humph!" and gave his leg another pat, but added, gravely enough: "Miss Dare believes his words to be those of confession."

"You say Miss Dare once believed me to have confessed."

"But," persisted the detective, "Miss Dare is not alone in her opinion. Men in whose judgment you must rely, find it difficult to explain the words of Mr. Orcutt by means of any other theory than that he is himself the perpetrator of that crime for which you are yourself being tried."

"I find it difficult to believe that possible," quietly returned the prisoner. "What!" he suddenly exclaimed; "suspect a man of Mr. Orcutt's abilities and standing of a hideous crime—the very crime, too, with which his client is charged, and in defence of whom he has brought all his skill to bear! The idea is preposterous, unheard of!"

"I acknowledge that," dryly assented Mr. Gryce; "but it has been my experience to find that it is the preposterous things which happen."

For a minute the prisoner stared at the speaker incredulously; then he cried:

"You really appear to be in earnest."

"I was never more so in my life," was Mr. Gryce's rejoinder.

Drawing back, Craik Mansell looked at the detective with an emotion that had almost the character of hope. Presently he said:

"If you do distrust Mr. Orcutt, you must have weightier reasons for it than any you have given me. What are they? You must be willing I should know, or you would not have gone as far with me as you have."

"You are right," Gryce assured him. "A case so complicated as this calls for unusual measures. Mr. Ferris, feeling the gravity of his position, allows me to take you into our confidence, in the hope that you will be able to help us out of our difficulty."

"I help you! You'd better release me first."

"That will come in time."

"If I help you?"

"Whether you help or not, if we can satisfy ourselves and the world that Mr. Orcutt's words were a confession. You may hasten that conviction."

"How?"

"By clearing up the mystery of your flight from Mrs. Clemmens' house."

The keen eyes of the prisoner fell; all his old distrust seemed on the point of returning.

"That would not help you at all," said he.

"I should like to be the judge," said Mr. Gryce.

The prisoner shook his head.

"My word must go for it," said he.

The detective had been the hero of too many such scenes to be easily discouraged. Bowing as if accepting this conclusion from the prisoner, he quietly proceeded with the recital he had planned. With a frankness certainly unusual to him, he gave the prisoner a full account of Mr. Orcutt's last hours, and the interview which had followed between himself and Miss Dare. To this he added his own reasons for doubting the lawyer, and, while admitting he saw no motive for the deed, gave it as his serious opinion, that the motive would be found if once he could get at the secret of Mr. Orcutt's real connection with the deceased. He was so eloquent, and so manifestly in earnest, Mr. Mansell's eye brightened in spite of himself, and when the detective ceased he looked up with an expression which convinced Mr. Gryce that half the battle was won. He accordingly said, in a tone of great confidence:

"A knowledge of what went on in Mrs. Clemmens' house before he went to it would be of great help to us. With that for a start, all may be learned. I therefore put it to you for the last time whether it would not be best for you to explain yourself on this point. I am sure you will not regret it."

"Sir," said Mansell, with undisturbed composure, "if your purpose is to fix this crime on Mr. Orcutt, I must insist upon your taking my word that I have no information to give you that can in any way affect him."

"You could give us information, then, that would affect Miss Dare?" was the quick retort. "Now, I say," the astute detective declared, as the prisoner gave an almost imperceptible start, "that whatever your information is, Miss Dare is not guilty."

"You say it!" exclaimed the prisoner. "What does your opinion amount to if you haven't heard the evidence against her?"

"There is no evidence against her but what is purely circumstantial."

"How do you know that?"

"Because she is innocent. Circumstantial evidence may exist alike against the innocent and the guilty; real evidence only against the guilty. I mean to say that as I am firmly convinced Miss Dare once regarded you as guilty of this crime, I must be equally convinced she didn't commit it herself. This is unanswerable."

"You have stated that before."

"I know it; but I want you to see the force of it; because, once convinced with me that Miss Dare is innocent, you will be willing to tell all you know, even what apparently implicates her."

Silence answered this remark.

"You didn't see her strike the blow?"

Mansell roused indignantly.

"No, of course not!" he cried.

"You did not see her with your aunt that moment you fled from the house immediately before the murder!"

"I didn't see her."

That emphasis, unconscious, perhaps, was fatal. Gryce, who never lost any thing, darted on this small gleam of advantage as a hungry pike darts upon an innocent minnow.

"But you thought you heard her," he cried; "her voice, or her laugh, or perhaps merely the rustle of her dress in another room?"

"No," said Mansell, "I didn't hear her."

"Of course not," was the instantaneous reply. "But something said or done by somebody—a something which amounts to nothing as evidence—gives you to understand she was there, and so you hold your tongue for fear of compromising her."

"Amounts to nothing as evidence?" echoed Mansell. "How do you know that?"

"Because Miss Dare was not in the house with your aunt at that time. Miss Dare was in Professor Darling's observatory, a mile or so away."

"Does she say that?"

"We will prove that."

Aroused, excited, the prisoner turned his flashing blue eyes on the detective.

"I should be glad to have you," he said.

"But you must first tell me in what room you were when you received this intimation of Miss Dare's presence?"

"I was in no room; I was on the stone step outside of the dining-room door. I did not go into the house at all that morning, as I believe I have already told Mr. Ferris."

"Very good! It will all be simpler than I thought. You came up to the house and went away again without coming in; ran away, I