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Page 81
I need not describe to you my interview with Jeannette. There are
things concerning it which, even at this late day, when their
roseate hue glows but dimly in the blue retrospect of the past,--it
would seem sacrilege for me to mention to another. Believe me, I am
perfectly aware of your inquisitive nature, and I know that this
omission may nettle you. Charge it all up, then, to the perversity
of a bachelor in the throes of his first, last, and only love
experience. You must see that such things cannot be conveyed to
another with anything like their real significance. Were I to say
I was carried beyond myself by her protestations of gratitude until,
in a delirium of joy, I seized her in my arms and covered her with
kisses, do you for a moment fancy you could appreciate my feelings?
Do you imagine that the little tingle of sympathy which you might
experience were I to say that, instead of pushing me from her, I
felt her clasp tighten about me,--would tell you anything of the
great torrent of hot blood that deluged my heart as she lay there
in my arms, quivering ecstatically at every kiss? No! a thousand
times no! Therefore have I thought best to say nothing about it.
Our love can keep its own secrets.--But alas! this was long ago,
and as I sit here alone writing this to you, I cannot but wonder,
with a heavy sense of ever-present longing, where on this great
earth Jeannette--'my Jeannette,' I have learned to call her--is
now. You see a bachelor's love-affair is a serious thing, and years
cannot always efface it. But to return to the past:
Jeannette, I think, was not more pleased than Gwen at the turn
affairs had taken. Indeed, so exuberant was Gwen in her quiet way
that I marvelled much at the change in her, so much, indeed, that
finally I determined to question Alice about it.
"I can understand," I said to her, "why Gwen, on account of her
sympathy and love for Jeannette, should be glad that M. Latour is
likely to be acquitted. I can also appreciate the distaste she may
have felt at the prospect of having to deal with M. Godin under the
terms of her father's will; but even both of these considerations
seem to me insufficient to account for her present almost ecstatic
condition. There is an immediateness to her joy which could hardly
result from mere release from a future disagreeable possibility.
How do you account for it, sis?" Alice's answer was somewhat
enigmatical and didn't give me the information I sought. "Ned,"
she replied," I'll pay for the tickets to the first circus that
comes here, just to see if you can find the trunks on the elephants."
Do my best, I couldn't make her enlighten me any further, for, to
every question, she replied with a most provoking laugh.
Maitland called and spent most of the next day, which was Sunday,
with us, and we all talked matters over. He did not seem either
to share or understand Gwen's exuberance of spirits, albeit one
could easily observe that he had a measure of that satisfaction
which always comes from success. More than once I saw him glance
questioningly at Gwen with a look which said plainly enough: "What
is the meaning of this remarkable change? Why should it so matter
to her whether M. Latour's or M. Godin's death avenges her father's
murder?" When he left us at night I could see he had not answered
that question to his own satisfaction.
CHAPTER III
The Devil throws double sixes when he turns genius heliward.
The next morning after the events last narrated I was utterly
dumfounded by an article which met my gaze the instant I took up
my paper. It was several moments before I sufficiently recovered
my faculties to read it aloud to Gwen, Alice, and Jeannette, all
of whom had noticed my excitement, and were waiting with such
patience as they could command. I read the following article
through from beginning to end without pause or comment:
M. Godin Anticipates the Law.--The Real Murderer of John Darrow
Writes His Confession and Then Suicides in His Cell.--Contrived
to Mix His Own Poison Under the Very Nose of His Jailer!--
The Dorchester Mystery Solved at Last.--Full Description of the
Life of One of the Cleverest Criminals of the Century.
At 4.30 this morning M. Godin was found dead in his cell, No. 26, at
Charles Street Jail. The manner of his death might still be a
mystery had he not left a written confession of his crime and the
summary manner of his taking off. This was written yesterday
afternoon and evening, M. Godin being permitted to have a light on
the ground that he had important legal documents to prepare for use
on the morrow. We give below the confession in full.
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