The Darrow Enigma, Melvin L. Severy [free biff chip and kipper ebooks TXT] 📗

told him I wanted a dog for private business and took Caesar off

with me. He found the trail with no difficulty, and followed it in

a bee-line down to the water, where he raised his big muzzle and

howled in dismal impotency. The assassin had taken to the water.

I took the dog up and down the shore to see if he had returned to

land, but all I found of interest was a clump of alders from

which a pole had been cut. I knew by the dog’s actions that the

assassin had been there, for Caesar immediately took a new trail

back to the house. Try as I might I could learn nothing further,

and I at once returned the dog. There is no doubt that the

murderer made his escape in a boat and took with him the pole he

had cut, the boards he had worn, and everything else, I dare say,

connected with his crime. One thing seems clear, and that is that

we are dealing with no ordinary criminal. I would wager a good

deal that this fellow, if ever he is caught, will be found to be

a man of brains. I don’t place much confidence in the Chinese

theory, Doc, but as I have nothing better to offer, let us go see

Miss Darrow. If her father has ever had any dealings with Chinamen,

we shall probably deem it wise to look the Orientals up a bit.”

 

We immediately acted upon this suggestion, waiting upon Gwen at my

house. She said she and her father had spent a year in San

Francisco when she was about seven years of age. While there their

household was looked after by two Chinese servants, named Wah Sing

and Sam Lee. The latter had been discharged by her father because

of his refusal to perform certain minor duties which, through

oversight, had not been set down as part of his work when he was

engaged. So far as she knew no altercation had taken place and

there were no hard feelings on either side. Sam Lee had bade her

goodbye and had seemed sorry to leave, notwithstanding which,

however, he refused, with true Chinese pertinacity, to assume the

new duties. She did not think it likely that either of these

Chinamen had been instrumental in her father’s death, yet she

agreed with Maitland that it would be a point gained to be assured

of this fact. Maitland accordingly determined to depart at once

for San Francisco, and the next day he was off.

 

We received no letters from him during his absence and were,

accordingly, unable to tell when he expected to get back. Since

his return from India Gwen had given evidence of a reviving interest

in life, but now that he was again away, she relapsed into her old

listless condition, from which we found it impossible to arouse her.

Alice, who did her utmost to please her, was at her wit’s end. She

could never tell which of two alternatives Gwen preferred, since

that young lady would invariably express herself satisfied with

either and did not seem to realise why she should be expected to have

any choice in the matter. Alice was quite at a loss to understand

this state of affairs, until I told her that Gwen was in a condition

of semi-torpor in which even the effort of choice seemed an

unwarrantable outlay. She simply did not care what happened. She

felt nothing, save a sense of fatigue, and even what she saw was

viewed as from afar, - and seemed to her a drama in which she took

no other part than that of an idle, tired, and listless spectator.

Clearly she was losing her hold on life. I told Alice we must do

our utmost to arouse her, to stimulate her will, to awaken her

interest, and we tried many things in vain.

 

Maitland had been gone, I think, about three weeks when my sister

and I hit upon a plan which we thought might have the desired effect

upon Gwen. Before her father’s death she had been one of the most

active members of a Young People’s Club which devoted every

Wednesday evening to the study of Shakespeare. She had attended

none of its meetings since her bereavement, but Alice and I soon

persuaded her to accompany us on the following week and I succeeded,

by a little quiet wire-pulling, in getting her appointed to take

charge of the following meeting, which was to be devoted to the

study of “Antony and Cleopatra.” When informed of the task which

had been imposed upon her Gwen was for declining the honour at once,

and the most Alice and I were able to do was to get her to promise

to think it over a day or so before she refused.

 

The next morning Maitland walked in upon us. He had found both of

Mr. Darrow’s former servants and satisfied himself that they were

in San Francisco on the night of the murder. So that ended my

Chinese clue. While Alice and Gwen were discussing the matter, I

took occasion to draw Maitland aside, and told him of Gwen’s

appointment to take charge of the Cleopatra night, and how necessary

it was to her health that she should be aroused from her torpor. It

doesn’t take long for Maitland to see a thing, and before I had

whispered a dozen sentences he had completely grasped the situation.

He crossed the room, drew a chair up beside Gwen, and sat down.

“Miss Darrow,” he began, “I am afraid you will have a poor opinion

of me as a detective. This is the second time I have failed. I

feel that I should remind you again of our compact, at least, that

part of it which permits you to dispense with my services whenever

you shall see fit to do so, and, at the same time, to relieve you

from your obligation to let me order your actions. I tell you

frankly it will be necessary for you to discharge me, if you would be

rid of me, for, unless you do so, or I find the assassin, I shall

never cease my search so long as I have the strength and means to

conduct it. What do you say? Have I not proved my uselessness?”

This was said in a tentative, half-jesting tone. Gwen answered it

very seriously.

 

“You have done for me,” she said, in the deep, vibrating tones of her

rich contralto voice, “all that human intelligence could suggest. You

have examined the evidence and conducted the whole affair with a

thoroughness which I never could have obtained elsewhere. That your

search has been unavailing is due, not to any fault of yours, but

rather to the consummate skill of the assassin, who, I think, we may

conclude, is no ordinary criminal. I do not know much of the

abilities of Messrs. Osborne and Allen, but I understand that M.

Godin has the reputation of being the cleverest detective in America.

I cannot learn that he has made any progress whatsoever in the

solution of this terrible mystery. I do not feel, therefore, that

you have any right to reproach yourself. Such hope as I have that

my father’s murderer may ever be brought to justice rests in your

efforts; else I should feel bound to relieve you of a task, which,

though self-imposed, is, none the less, onerous and ill-paid. Do

not consider me altogether selfish if I ask that you still continue

the search, and that I - that I still be held to my covenant. I am

aware that I can never fully repay the kindness I am asking of you,

but - “

 

Maitland did not wait for her to finish. “Let us not speak of that,”

he said. “It is enough to know that you are still satisfied with my,

thus far, unsuccessful efforts in your behalf. There is nothing

affords me keener pleasure than to struggle with and solve an

intricate problem, whether it be in algebra, geometry, or the

mathematics of crime; and then - well, even if I succeed, I shall

quit the work your debtor.”

 

He had spoken this last impulsively, and when he had finished he

remained silent, as if surprised and a bit nettled at his own failure

to control himself. Gwen made no reply, not even raising her eyes;

but I noticed that her=20fingers at once busied themselves with the

entirely uncalled-for labour of readjusting the tidy upon the arm of

her chair, and I thought that, if appearances were to be trusted,

she was very happy and contented at the change she had made in the

bit of lacework beneath her hands. With singular good sense, with

which she was always surprising me, Alice now introduced the subject

of the Young People’s Club, and mentioned incidentally that Gwen was

to have charge of the next meeting. Before Gwen had time to inform

Maitland that she intended to decline this honour, he congratulated

her upon it, and rendered her withdrawal difficult by saying: “I feel

that I should thank you, Miss Darrow, for the faithful way in which

you fulfil the spirit of your agreement to permit me to order your

actions. I know, if you consulted your own desires, you would

probably decline the honour conferred upon you, and that in accepting

it, you are influenced by the knowledge that you are pursuing just

the course I most wish you to follow. Verily, you make my office of

tyrant over you a perfect sinecure. I had expected you to chafe a

little under restraint, but, instead, I find you voluntarily yielding

to my unexpressed desires.”

 

Gwen made no reply, but we heard no more of her resignation. She

applied herself at once to the preparation of her paper upon

“Antony and Cleopatra.” Maitland, who, like all vigorous, healthy,

and informed intellects, was an ardent admirer of Shakespeare, found

time to call on Gwen and to discuss the play with her. This seemed

to please her very much, and I am sure his interest in the play was

abnormal. He confessed to me that every morning, as he awoke, the

first thing which flashed into his mind, even before he had full

possession of his senses, was these words of Antony:

 

“I am dying, Egypt, dying.”

 

He professed himself utterly unable to account for this, and asked

me what I thought was the cause of it. He furthermore suddenly

decided that he would ask Gwen to propose his name for membership at

the next meeting of the Young People’s Club. I hastily indorsed

this resolution, for I had a vague sort of feeling that it would

please Gwen.

 

The “Antony and Cleopatra” night at length arrived. We all attended

the meeting and listened to a very able paper upon the play. One

of the most marked traits of Gwen’s character is that whatever she

does she does thoroughly, and this was fully exemplified on the night

in question. Maitland was very much impressed by some verse Gwen

had written for the occasion, and a copy of which he succeeded in

procuring from her. I think, from certain remarks he made, that it

was the broad and somewhat unfeminine charity expressed in the verse

which most astonished and attracted him, but of this, after what I

have said, you will, when you have perused it, be as good a judge

as I:

 

CLEOPATRA

 

In Egypt, where the lotus sips the waters

Of ever-fruitful Nile, and the huge Sphinx

In awful silence, - mystic converse with

The stars, - doth see the pale moon hang her crescent on

The pyramid’s sharp peak, - e’en there, well in

The straits of Time’s perspective,

Went out, by Caesarean gusts from Rome,

The low-burned candle of the