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

passing through my mind the man had glanced through

my letter and thrown it upon the table with an exclamation of

disgust. “Bah! he has had the effrontery,” he said petulantly, “to

send me what he calls a new mode of treatment and it is in every

essential that of Broadbent, well known for more than a quarter of

a century. New indeed! I shall never find a doctor who has any

scientific acumen. I may as well abandon the search now. Mon Dieu!

and they call medicine a science! Bah!” and with a frown he dropped

his head despondently upon his hand. The young girl passed her hand

gently, soothingly, over his forehead and did not speak for nearly

a minute.

 

“You are not feeling well tonight, father,” she said at length.

“M. Godin has been here during my absence.”

 

“M. Godin!” I exclaimed half aloud, catching at the stovepipe lest

I should fall from the stove. “So our rival is hot upon the scent,

- probably even ahead of us. How on earth - ” But I did not finish

the exclamation. My seizure of the pipe upon my side of the

partition had produced an audible vibration of that portion extending

over the heads of my neighbours. The young girl’s quick ear had

detected the sound and she had ceased speaking and fastened her eyes

suspiciously upon the aperture through which I was gazing. It seemed

to me as if she must see me, yet I dared not move. After a little

she seemed reassured and continued: “I knew he had been here. You

are always this way after his visits. Why, of late, does he always

come when I am away?” The question seemed innocent enough, yet the

man to whom it was addressed turned crimson and then as pale as

ashes. When he spoke the effort his self-control cost him was

terribly apparent.

 

“We have private business, dear,” he said, “private business.” He

hesitated a moment and again his eyes wore the wild look I had first

noticed. “I am selling him something,” he continued, “very dear to

me - as dear as my heart’s blood, and I expect to get enough for it

to guard you from want.”

 

“And you, father?” the young girl questioned fervently. I thought

I noticed a tremor run through his frame, as drawing her face down

to his, he said, kissing her, “Me? Never mind me, Puss; this cancer

here will take care of me.”

 

She made no reply, but turned away to hide the tears that sprang to

her eyes. As she did so she raised her face toward me. I have

never been considered particularly sympathetic, - that is, no more

than the average, - but there was something in the expression of her

face that went to my heart like a knife. I felt as if I were about

to sob with her. I do not know what it was that so aroused my

sympathies. We are, I fancy, more apt to feel for those whose beauty

is like to the ideals we have learned to love, than we are to be

moved by the suffering of those whose looks repel us, - and this may

have had something to do with my condition, - for the young girl was

radiantly beautiful, - yet it could hardly have been the real cause

of it.

 

So rapt was I in the sympathetic contemplation of her that I did not

see Maitland’s entrance or realise I was observed till he plucked me

by the coat and motioned me to get down. I did so and he told me

he had rented the rooms, and laid before me the plan he meant to

pursue.

 

As soon as he had ceased speaking I said to him: “George, you are

undoubtedly on the right track. The man in there is the one we are

looking for, fast enough, but I am afraid we are a bit too late.”

 

“Too late!” he exclaimed in a tone that I feared might be overheard.

“What the mischief do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” I replied, “that M. Godin is already upon the scene.”

 

In the next ten seconds Maitland turned all colours and I edged

nearer to him, expecting him to fall, but he did not.

 

“M. Godin!” he ejaculated at length. “How in the name of all the

gods at once - Doc, he’s all they claim for him, and as fascinating

as he is clever;” at which last remark a heavy cloud passed over

Maitland’s face. “Come,” he continued listlessly, “you may as well

tell me all you know about it.”

 

I then confided to him what I had heard and ended by asking him

what he proposed to do.

 

“Do?” he replied. “There is but one thing I can do, which makes

the choice decidedly easy,” and he set his jaws together with a

determined expression, the meaning of which I knew full well.

 

“I shall camp right here,” he said, ” till I learn all I wish to

know of our neighbours yonder. I have already provided myself with

instruments which will enable me to note every movement they make,

indeed to photograph them, if necessary, and to hear and record

every word they utter. You look surprised, but it is easily done.

I will place my lenses there at the chink through which you were

gazing and bring the image down into my camera obscura by a prism

arranged for total internal reflection. As for the hearing, that

is easier yet. I will carefully work away the plaster on this

side tonight till I get through to the paper covering their wall.

This I will leave intact to use as a diaphragm. I have then only

to fasten my carbon to it, and, behold, we have a microphone or

telephone - whichever you choose to call it. All I have to look

out for is that I get it high enough to avoid the danger of the

paper being accidentally broken from the other side, and that I

work quietly while removing the plaster. I shall, of course, cover

it with a bit of black felt to prevent our light from showing, and

to deaden any sounds from this side. This will enable us to hear

all that goes on in the other room, but this may not be enough.

We may need a phonographic record of what transpires.

 

“The device whereby I secure this at such a distance is an invention

of my own which, for patent reasons - I might almost say ‘patent

patent reasons’ - I will ask you to kindly keep to yourself. To the

diaphragm there I fasten this bit of burnished silver. Upon this I

concentrate a pencil of light which, when reflected, acts

photographically upon a sensitised moving tape in this little box,

and perfectly registers the minutest movement of the receiving

diaphragm. How I develop, etch, and reproduce this record, and

transform it into a record of the ordinary type, you will see in

due time - and will kindly keep secret for the present. You had

better go now and send me the things on this list, as soon as

possible,” and he passed me a paper, continuing:

 

“We will not despair yet. Our clever rival may not be ready to

prove his case so quickly as we. At all events, when he comes again

I shall be in a condition to ascertain how far he has progressed. I

have some things I must settle before I can ask for an arrest, and

I am not at all sure that M. Godin is in any better condition in

this regard than I am. By Jove! I’d give something to know how

that wizard has gotten so far without so much as a single sign

to indicate that he had even moved in the matter. I say, Doc, it

beats me, blessed if it doesn’t! Please say to Miss Darrow that I

am at work upon a promising clue-promising for someone, anyway - and

may not see her for some time yet.”

 

I did as he requested, and, if I am any judge of feminine

indications, my message did not yield Gwen unmixed pleasure; still,

she said nothing to warrant such a supposition on my part. I

visited Maitland every day to learn what he might wish me to bring

him, and also to carry him his mail, for he had determined to remain

constantly on the watch at his new quarters.

 

I have thus far, in the narration of these incidents been perfectly

candid both as regards my friends and myself, and, therefore, that

I may continue in like manner to the end, I shall suppress certain

qualms which are urging me to silence, and confess myself guilty of

some things of which you will, perhaps, think I may well be ashamed.

Be that as it may, you shall have the whole truth, however it may

affect your opinion of me. One reason why I went to Maitland’s new

quarters so often, and stayed there so long, was because I was always

permitted to relieve him of his watch. With a telephone receiver

strapped to my right ear, and my eyes fastened upon the screen of

the camera obscura, I would sit by the hour prying into the affairs

of the two people in the next room. I tried for a number of days

to ease my conscience by telling myself that I was labouring in

the cause of justice, and was not a common eavesdropper. This

permitted me to retain a sort of quasi self-respect for a day or two

till my honesty rallied itself, and forced me to realise and to

admit that I was, to all intents and purposes, a common Paul Pry,

performing a disreputable act for the gratification it gave me. I

determined I would at least be honest with myself - and this was my

verdict. You will, perhaps, fancy that when I arrived at this

decision I at once mended my ways and resigned my seat of observation

to Maitland’s entirely professional care. This, doubtless, I should

have done, if we fallible human beings governed our conduct by our

knowledge of what is right and proper. Inasmuch, however, as desires

and emotions are the determining factors of human conduct, I did

nothing of the sort. I simply watched there day after day, with

ever-increasing avidity, until at length I got to be impatient of

the duties that took me away, and more than half inclined to neglect

them.

 

I shall gain nothing by attempting to make you believe it was the

man in the neighbouring room that interested me, so I shall not

essay it. I confess, with a feeling of guilt because I am not

more ashamed of it - that it was the young lady who attracted me.

You will, I trust, assume I had enough interest in her father to

palliate my conduct in a measure. Be generous in your judgment.

How do you know you will not be in the same predicament? Think

of it! A young woman beautiful beyond my feeble powers of

description; her eyes of a heavenly blue; her luxuriant hair like

a mass of spun gold; her complexion matched to the tint and

transparency of the blush rose - and such a throat! From it came

a voice as musical as the unguided waters when Winter rushes down

the hills in search of Spring. Never you mind, that’s the way I

felt about it, and, if you had been in my place, you’d have been

just as bad as I; come, now, you know you would. Suppose I was a

bachelor, and almost old enough to be her father. Does that help

matters any? Is the heart