Part 27 (1/2)
He did not ask where. Possibly he knew. And because he did not ask, she did not tell him, holding on to her secret in a vague hope that so much at least might never see light.
”I knew the boy shrank sometimes from Algernon's company,” the judge admitted, after another glance at her face; ”but that means nothing in a boy full of his own affairs. What else have you against him? Speak up! I can bear it all.”
”He handled the stick that--that-”
”Oliver?”
”Yes.”
”Never! Now you have gone mad, madam.”
”I would be willing to end my days in an asylum if that would disprove this fact.”
”But, madam, what proof--what reason can you have for an a.s.sertion so monstrous?”
”You remember the shadow I saw which was not that of John Scoville? The person who made that shadow was whittling a stick; that was a trick of Oliver's. I have heard that he even whittled furniture.”
”Good G.o.d!” The judge's panoply was pierced at last.
”They tried to prove, as you will remember, that it was John who thus disfigured the bludgeon he always carried with pride. But the argument was a sorry one and in itself would have broken down the prosecution had he been a man of better repute. Now, those few chips taken from the handle of this weapon will carry a different significance. For in my folly I asked to see this stick which still exists at Police Headquarters, and there in the wood I detected and pointed out a trifle of steel which never came from the unbroken blades of the knife taken from John's pocket.”
Fallen was the proud head now and fallen the great man's aspect. If he spoke it was to utter a low ”Oliver! Oliver!”
The pathos of it--the heart-rending wonder in the tone brought the tears to Deborah's eyes and made her last words very difficult.
”But the one great thing which gives to these facts their really dangerous point is the mystery you have made of your life and of this so-called hermitage. If you can clear up that, you can afford to ignore the rest.”
”The misfortunes of my house!” was his sole response. ”The misfortunes of my house!”
XXIV
ONE SECRET LESS
Suddenly he faced Deborah again. The crisis of feeling had pa.s.sed, and he looked almost cold.
”You have had advisers,” said he. ”Who are they?”
”I have talked with Mr. Black.”
The judge's brows met.
”Well, you were wise,” said he. Then shortly, ”What is his att.i.tude?”
Feeling that her position was fast becoming intolerable she falteringly replied, ”Friendly to you and Oliver but, even without all the reasons which move me, sharing my convictions.”
”He has told you so?”
”Not directly; but there was no misjudging his opinion of the necessity you were under to explain, the mysteries of your life. AND IT WAS YESTERDAY WE TALKED; NOT TO-DAY.”