Ranson's Folly (Fiscle Part 3), Richard Harding Davis [best novel books to read TXT] 📗
- Author: Richard Harding Davis
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Which Hung Below His Shoulders. He Was Dressed In A Red Silk Shirt,
That Was Belted At The Waist And Hung Outside Black Velvet Trousers,
Which, In Turn, Were Stuffed Into High, Black Boots. I Recognized The
Costume At Once As That Of A Russian Servant, But What A Russian
Servant In His Native Livery Could Be Doing In A Private House In
Knightsbridge Was Incomprehensible.
"I Advanced And Touched The Man On The Shoulder, And, After An
Effort, He Awoke, And, On Seeing Me, Sprang To His Feet And Began
Bowing Rapidly, And Making Deprecatory Gestures. I Had Picked Up
Enough Russian In Petersburg To Make Out That The Man Was Apologizing
For Having Fallen Asleep, And I Also Was Able To Explain To Him That
I Desired To See His Master.
"He Nodded Vigorously, And Said, 'Will The Excellency Come This Way?
The Princess Is Here.'
"I Distinctly Made Out The Word 'Princess,' And I Was A Good Deal
Embarrassed. I Had Thought It Would Be Easy Enough To Explain My
Intrusion To A Man, But How A Woman Would Look At It Was Another
Matter, And As I Followed Him Down The Hall I Was Somewhat Puzzled.
"As We Advanced, He Noticed That The Front Door Was Standing Open,
And With An Exclamation Of Surprise, Hastened Toward It And Closed
It. Then He Rapped Twice On The Door Of What Was Apparently The
Drawing-Room. There Was No Reply To His Knock, And He Tapped Again,
And Then, Timidly, And Cringing Subserviently, Opened The Door And
Stepped Inside. He Withdrew Himself At Once And Stared Stupidly At
Me, Shaking His Head.
"'She Is Not There,' He Said. He Stood For A Moment, Gazing Blankly
Through The Open Door, And Then Hastened Toward The Dining-Room. The
Solitary Candle Which Still Burned There Seemed To Assure Him That
The Room Also Was Empty. He Came Back And Bowed Me Toward The
Drawing-Room. 'She Is Above,' He Said; 'I Will Inform The Princess Of
The Excellency's Presence.'
"Before I Could Stop Him, He Had Turned And Was Running Up The
Staircase, Leaving Me Alone At The Open Door Of The Drawing-Room. I
Decided That The Adventure Had Gone Quite Far Enough, And If I Had
Been Able To Explain To The Russian That I Had Lost My Way In The
Fog, And Only Wanted To Get Back Into The Street Again, I Would Have
Left The House On The Instant.
"Of Course, When I First Rang The Bell Of The House I Had No Other
Expectation Than That It Would Be Answered By A Parlor-Maid Who Would
Direct Me On My Way. I Certainly Could Not Then Foresee That I Would
Disturb A Russian Princess In Her Boudoir, Or That I Might Be Thrown
Out By Her Athletic Bodyguard. Still, I Thought I Ought Not Now To
Leave The House Without Making Some Apology, And, If The Worst Should
Come, I Could Show My Card. They Could Hardly Believe That A Member
Of An Embassy Had Any Designs Upon The Hat-Rack.
"The Room In Which I Stood Was Dimly Lighted, But I Could See That,
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 118Like The Hall, It Was Hung With Heavy, Persian Rugs. The Corners Were
Filled With Palms, And There Was The Unmistakable Odor In The Air Of
Russian Cigarettes, And Strange, Dry Scents That Carried Me Back To
The Bazaars Of Vladivostock. Near The Front Windows Was A Grand
Piano, And At The Other End Of The Room A Heavily Carved Screen Of
Some Black Wood, Picked Out With Ivory. The Screen Was Overhung With
A Canopy Of Silken Draperies, And Formed A Sort Of Alcove. In Front
Of The Alcove Was Spread The White Skin Of A Polar Bear, And Set On
That Was One Of Those Low, Turkish Coffee-Tables. It Held A Lighted
Spirit-Lamp And Two Gold Coffee-Cups. I Had Heard No Movement From
Above Stairs, And It Must Have Been Fully Three Minutes That I Stood
Waiting, Noting These Details Of The Room And Wondering At The Delay,
And At The Strange Silence.
"And Then, Suddenly, As My Eye Grew More Used To The Half-Light, I
Saw, Projecting From Behind The Screen, As Though It Were Stretched
Along The Back Of A Divan, The Hand Of A Man And The Lower Part Of
His Arm. I Was As Startled As Though I Had Come Across A Footprint On
A Deserted Island. Evidently, The Man Had Been Sitting There Since I
Had Come Into The Room, Even Since I Had Entered The House, And He
Had Heard The Servant Knocking Upon The Door. Why He Had Not Declared
Himself I Could Not Understand, But I Supposed That, Possibly, He Was
A Guest, With No Reason To Interest Himself In The Princess's Other
Visitors, Or, Perhaps, For Some Reason, He Did Not Wish To Be
Observed. I Could See Nothing Of Him Except His Hand, But I Had An
Unpleasant Feeling That He Had Been Peering At Me Through The Carving
In The Screen, And That He Still Was Doing So. I Moved My Feet
Noisily On The Floor And Said, Tentatively, 'I Beg Your Pardon.'
"There Was No Reply, And The Hand Did Not Stir. Apparently, The Man
Was Bent Upon Ignoring Me, But, As All I Wished Was To Apologize For
My Intrusion And To Leave The House, I Walked Up To The Alcove And
Peered Around It. Inside The Screen Was A Divan Piled With Cushions,
And On The End Of It Nearer Me The Man Was Sitting. He Was A Young
Englishman With Light-Yellow Hair And A Deeply Bronzed Face. He Was
Seated With His Arms Stretched Out Along The Back Of The Divan, And
With His Head Resting Against A Cushion. His Attitude Was One Of
Complete Ease. But His Mouth Had Fallen Open, And His Eyes Were Set
With An Expression Of Utter Horror. At The First Glance, I Saw That
He Was Quite Dead.
"For A Flash Of Time I Was Too Startled To Act, But In The Same Flash
I Was Convinced That The Man Had Met His Death From No Accident, That
He Had Not Died Through Any Ordinary Failure Of The Laws Of Nature.
The Expression On His Face Was Much Too Terrible To Be
Misinterpreted. It Spoke As Eloquently As Words. It Told Me That
Before The End Had Come He Had Watched His Death Approach And
Threaten Him.
"I Was So Sure He Had Been Murdered That I Instinctively Looked On
The Floor For The Weapon, And, At The Same Moment, Out Of Concern For
My Own Safety, Quickly Behind Me; But The Silence Of The House
Continued Unbroken.
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 119
"I Have Seen A Great Number Of Dead Men; I Was On The Asiatic Station
During The Japanese-Chinese War. I Was In Port Arthur After The
Massacre. So A Dead Man, For The Single Reason That He Is Dead, Does
Not Repel Me, And, Though I Knew That There Was No Hope That This Man
Was Alive, Still, For Decency's Sake, I Felt His Pulse, And, While I
Kept My Ears Alert For Any Sound From The Floors Above Me, I Pulled
Open His Shirt And Placed My Hand Upon His Heart. My Fingers
Instantly Touched Upon The Opening Of A Wound, And As I Withdrew Them
I Found Them Wet With Blood. He Was In Evening Dress, And In The Wide
Bosom Of His Shirt I Found A Narrow Slit, So Narrow That In The Dim
Light It Was Scarcely Discernible. The Wound Was No Wider Than The
Smallest Blade Of A Pocket-Knife, But When I Stripped The Shirt Away
From The Chest And Left It Bare, I Found That The Weapon, Narrow As
It Was, Had Been Long Enough To Reach His Heart. There Is No Need To
Tell You How I Felt As I Stood By The Body Of This Boy, For He Was
Hardly Older Than A Boy, Or Of The Thoughts That Came Into My Head. I
Was Bitterly Sorry For This Stranger, Bitterly Indignant At His
Murderer, And, At The Same Time, Selfishly Concerned For My Own
Safety And For The Notoriety Which I Saw Was Sure To Follow. My
Instinct Was To Leave The Body Where It Lay, And To Hide Myself In
The Fog, But I Also Felt That Since A Succession Of Accidents Had
Made Me The Only Witness To A Crime, My Duty Was To Make Myself A
Good Witness And To Assist To Establish The Facts Of This Murder.
"That It Might, Possibly, Be A Suicide, And Not A Murder, Did Not
Disturb Me For A Moment. The Fact That The Weapon Had Disappeared,
And The Expression On The Boy's Face Were Enough To Convince, At
Least Me, That He Had Had No Hand In His Own Death. I Judged It,
Therefore, Of The First Importance To Discover Who Was In The House,
Or, If They Had Escaped From It, Who Had Been In The House Before I
Entered It. I Had Seen One Man Leave It; But All I Could Tell Of Him
Was That He Was A Young Man, That He Was In Evening Dress, And That
He Had Fled In Such Haste That He Had Not Stopped To Close The Door
Behind Him.
"The Russian Servant I Had Found Apparently Asleep, And, Unless He
Acted A Part With Supreme Skill, He Was A Stupid And Ignorant Boor,
And As Innocent Of The Murder As Myself. There Was Still The Russian
Princess Whom He Had Expected To Find, Or Had Pretended To Expect To
Find, In The Same Room With The Murdered Man. I Judged That She Must
Now Be Either Upstairs With The Servant, Or That She Had, Without His
Knowledge, Already Fled From The House. When I Recalled His
Apparently Genuine Surprise At Not Finding Her In The Drawing-Room,
This Latter Supposition Seemed The More Probable. Nevertheless, I
Decided That It Was My Duty To Make A Search, And After A Second
Hurried Look For The Weapon Among The Cushions Of The Divan, And Upon
The Floor, I Cautiously Crossed The Hall And Entered The Dining-Room.
"The Single Candle Was Still Flickering In The Draught, And Showed
Only The White Cloth. The Rest Of The Room Was Draped In Shadows. I
Picked Up The Candle, And, Lifting It High Above My Head, Moved
Around The Corner Of The Table. Either My Nerves Were On Such A
Stretch That No Shock Could Strain Them Further, Or My Mind Was
Inoculated To Horrors,
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