|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 24
"His private papers," Gwen said, rising to lead the way, "are in his
desk in the study."
"One moment, please," Maitland interrupted, calling her back, "I
have something I have been trying to ask you for the last hour, but
have repeatedly put off. I believe your father's death to have
resulted from poisoning. You know the result of the post-mortem
inquest. It is necessary to make an analysis of the poison, if
there be any, and an absolutely thorough microscopic examination of
the wound. I--I regret to pain you--but to do this properly it
will be necessary to cut away the wounded portion. Have we your
permission to do so?"
For a moment Gwen did not answer. She fell upon her knees before
her father's body, and kissed the cold face passionately. For the
first time since the tragedy she found relief in tears. When she
arose a great change had come over her. She was very pale and
seized a chair for support as she replied to Maitland's question
between the convulsive sobs which she seemed powerless to check:
"I--I have bidden him good-bye. We shall but obey his command in
sparing no pains to reach the assassin. You--you have my permission
to do anything--everything--that may be--necessary to that end.
I--I know you will be as gentle--" But she could not finish her
sentence. The futility of gentleness--the realisation that her
father was forever past all need of tenderness, fell like a shroud
about her soul. The awakening I had dreaded had come. Her hand
fell from the chair, she staggered, and would have fallen to the
floor had not Maitland caught her in his arms.
THE EPISODE OF THE SEALED DOCUMENT
CHAPTER 1
Father of all surveyors, Time drags his chain of rust through
every life, and only Love--unaging God of the Ages--immeasurable,
keeps his untarnished youth.
Maitland carried the unconscious girl into the study, and for some
time we busied ourselves in bringing her to herself. When this task
was accomplished we did not feel like immediately putting any further
tax upon her strength. Maitland insisted that she should rest while
he and I ransacked the desk, and, ever mindful of her promise to obey
his instructions, she yielded without remonstrance. Our search
revealed the insurance policies, and a sealed envelope bearing the
inscription: "To Miss Gwen Darrow, to be opened after the death of
John Darrow," and three newspapers with articles marked in blue
pencil. I read the first aloud. It ran as follows:
I have reason to believe an attempt will sooner or later be made
upon my life, and that the utmost cunning will be employed to lead
the authorities astray. The search for the assassin will be long,
expensive, and discouraging--just such a task as is never
successfully completed without some strong personal incentive.
This I propose to supply in advance. My death will place in my
daughter's hands a fund of fifty thousand dollars, to be held in
trust by her, and delivered, in the event of my being murdered, to
such person or persons as shall secure evidence leading to the
conviction of the murderer.
(Signed) JOHN HINTON DARROW.
I glanced at the other two papers--the marked article was the same
in each. "I wonder what your friend Osborne would say to that," I
said to Maitland.
"How old are the papers?" he replied.
"March 15th,--only a little over a month," I answered.
"Let me see them, please," he said. "Hum! All of the same date,
and each in the paid part of the paper! It is clear Mr. Darrow
inserted these singular notices himself. I will tell you what
Osborne will say when he learns of these articles. He will say
they strengthen his theory; that no sane man would publish such a
thing, except as a weak attempt to deceive the insurance companies.
As for the money all being paid to the discoverer of the assassin,
instead of to his daughter, he will simply dispose of that by
saying: 'No assassin, no reward, and the fund remains intact.' If
now, the other papers permit Miss Darrow to use the interest of this
fund while holding the principal in trust, we do not at present know
enough of this matter to successfully refute Osborne's reasoning.
This mystery seems to grow darker rather than lighter. The one
thing upon which we seem continually to get evidence is the question
of sanity. If Mr. Darrow's suspicions were directed against no one
in particular, then it is clear his dreams, and all the rest of his
fears for that matter, had a purely subjective origin, which is to
say that upon this one subject, at least, he was of unsound mind."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|