In Jeopardy Part 23

I rang for Effingham. "Bring a bottle of 'King William,'" I ordered. "Or perhaps you would prefer rye or bourbon?"

"Scotch suits me right enough," he answered carelessly. He rose and began pacing the room. "I heard something in Calverton about your closing up the library," he said abruptly.

"It was Mrs. Hildebrand's wish. You can understand that Miss Trevor's death was a great shock to her."

Not a muscle in his face moved, but he stopped short in his tracks.

"Eunice dead!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "When and where?"

"In June two years ago. She was found dead, sitting in the library."

John Thaneford drew a long breath. "I wondered that her letters ceased so suddenly," he said coolly. "But Eunice was always doing something out of the common, and I laid it to some queer slant in her mind. You never can tell what a woman will do or won't do."

The callous selfishness of the man was still rampant, and it disgusted me. Doubtless, he had no idea that I was well aware of the relations that had existed between him and the unfortunate girl. And then, to my astonishment, a new note of softness, of regret even, stole into his voice. "Do you mind opening up the room?" he asked. "So much for remembrance," he added in an undertone that I barely caught.

This time my promise to Betty did occur to my mind, but already the covenant had been broken, and further infraction could not greatly signify.

We walked down the corridor, and I unlocked the door and pushed it open, calling to the house-boy to bring in a lamp.

"So you've cleaned everything out," remarked Thaneford, as he glanced around. "That is, about everything but the big teak desk, the leather screen, and the swivel-chair."

"The desk was too c.u.mbersome for use in the other room," I answered. "As for the chair you see it is riveted down into the floor--not even screwed in the ordinary way. I fancy it would be a job to get it free."

"And no object either. Poor Eunice, you say, died here?"

"Sitting in that very chair."

"Like Francis Graeme before her," mused Thaneford.

"Yes, and before him four other men, all masters of 'Hildebrand Hundred'--Yardley, and Randall, and Horace, and Richard. But perhaps you know these things even better than I do."

"Evidently a seat perilous," he said sardonically. "No wonder you do not choose to occupy it."

I don't know what mad, foolish impulse moved me to go and sit down in the big, swivel-chair, but there I presently found myself, my face reddening a trifle under the quizzical stare of John Thaneford's dull, black eyes. Effingham entered with the whiskey and gla.s.ses, and I bade him put the tray on the desk and fetch a chair for Mr. Thaneford.

"Good medicine!" approved my guest as he tossed off his gla.s.s. There was a plate of biscuit at his elbow; he took one of the little round crackers and bit into it; then, with a smothered e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, he spewed forth the half masticated fragments. I looked my natural surprise.

"I never could abide those d.a.m.ned saltines," he explained, with a touch of his old glowering sulkiness. "I'll drink with you, Cousin Hugh, till the swallows homeward fly, but I'll not taste your salt; I reserve the right to withdraw the flag of truce without notice."

Well, I should have had warning a-plenty by this time, but it was all to no purpose; I had the full realization that I was treading a dangerous path, and yet it was not in my conscious power to take one single step toward safety. Call it fatalism if you will, or the pure recklessness engendered by the growing conviction that Betty was lost to me for good and all; whatever the secret springs of my present course of action, the outcome inevitably must have been the same; a Scotchman would have said that I was fey. And perhaps I was.

I never had been what you call a drinking man, but to-night I was matching gla.s.s for gla.s.s with "Black Jack" Thaneford, who could put any man, yes any three men in King William County, under the table. The night came on apace, and twice Effingham had been ordered to bring in another supply of spirits. Suddenly John Thaneford broke away from the trivial subjects which we had been discussing.

"Some two years ago, Cousin Hugh," he began, "I gave you a choice--Betty Graeme or the 'Hundred.' Do you remember?"

"I remember," I answered steadily.

"But you would not make it; you took them both."

"What right had you to force such an issue?" I demanded hotly.

"That is beside the point. I did force it."

"Well?"

"I'll give you the final opportunity."

"Possibly, you have forgotten that Betty is now my wife?"

"I have not forgotten it."

"And as for the 'Hundred'----"

"The 'Hundred,'" he repeated, a dull, red flush dyeing his high forehead.

"There is another interest now besides my own that I am bound to protect; I have a son."

"Ah, I had not heard. Of course that does make a difference."

"All the difference. See here, Thaneford," I went on impulsively, "I don't want to play an ungenerous part, and I can see something of your side of the case. I am prepared to make some provision, indeed an ample one; but the 'Hundred' must remain where it is."

"And that is your last word?" he queried almost indifferently.

"My last word," I answered, looking him straight in the eye.

"Then we know where we are," he responded. "The bottle stands with you, Cousin Hugh."

We renewed our potations, but thenceforth in silence; for the s.p.a.ce of an hour and more not another word pa.s.sed between us.

And the silence was an hostile one, the quiet of watchful and eternal enmity. I know that I hated John Thaneford and that he hated me; moreover, this condition could never change or alter until the end of time itself. Well, anything was better than the false cordiality of conventional speech; at least we knew where we stood. And still our grim wa.s.sail went on.

I can't recall falling to sleep in the great chair, but now, with a sudden, painful start, I awoke to realize that it was broad daylight--Friday, the twenty-second of June. My head was aching frightfully, and my arms and legs seemed singularly cramped and constricted. Then I came face to face with the ugly fact that I was bound fast in my chair by stout cords that secured my shoulders, wrists, and ankles; I could move my head a trifle to one side or the other and that was all.

John Thaneford sat opposite me, smoking a cigarette and looking as though he had remained entirely unaffected by the amount of liquor he had consumed. Seeing that I was awake he rose, came over to where I sat, and examined carefully the various ligatures that constrained my movements. Not a word was uttered on either side, and indeed there was no need for any speech between us. Doubtless I should be informed in due time of whatever fate might be in store for me; and, for the present, I could only wait with what show of patience it were possible to muster.

A discreet knock sounded on the closed door leading to the corridor.

Thaneford snapped back the locking-bolt and stepped across the threshold; I realized that Effingham was standing there, but the leather screen prevented my seeing him, and of course it hid, in turn, my mortifying predicament. Now I might have called out, shouted for help, raised the very roof in indignant protest at the humiliation to which I had been subjected. And yet I did none of these obvious things, and I think John Thaneford was shrewd enough to know that my tongue would be held out of very shame; otherwise, he would have taken the precaution to slip a gag into my mouth.

I heard Thaneford tell Effingham, speaking of course in my name, to bring a large pot of black coffee and a plate of crackers. "The unsalted kind," he added, as though actuated by an afterthought whose significance became instantly clear to my own mind. "Or better yet," he continued, "some of those big, round biscuits that they call 'pilot bread.' No, Mr. Hildebrand doesn't care for any tea this morning--what's that! a telegram? Then why the devil didn't you say so! Give it here, and mind you hurry up that coffee--hot and black, and strong as sheol."

The door swung to, and I could hear Effingham's carpet slippers padding softly away. Too late now, I regretted that I had not given the alarm.

Even if Thaneford had used violent means to silence Effingham my voice would have rung all through the lower part of the house, prompting some sort of inquiry and a probable rescue. But that chance was gone.

Thaneford returned to my immediate vicinity, the buff telegram envelope in his hand. I could see that it was addressed to me, but he broke the seal without even the pretense of hesitation, and glanced over the message. His lips curled into a genial sneer (if one can imagine such a combination); then he deliberately held up the sheet for me to read.

_If indeed you still care for me, don't enter library again under any consideration or for any purpose. Coming._