Recalled to Life Part 21

"And for the same reason even now," I said, "you wouldn't tell the police?"

"Let sleeping dogs lie," Jack answered, in the same words as Dr.

Marten. "Why rake up this whole matter? It's finished for ever now, and n.o.body but yourself is ever likely to reopen it. If we both told our tale, we might run a great risk of being seriously misinterpreted.

You know it's true; so do I: but who else would believe us? No man's bound to criminate himself. You shot him to save my life, at the very moment when you first learned all his cruelty and his vileness. The rest of the world could never be made to understand all that. They'd say to the end, as it looks on the surface, 'She shot her father to save her lover.'"

"You're right," I said slowly. "I shall let this thing rest. But the photographs, Jack--the apparatus--the affair of the inquest?"

"That was all very simple," Jack answered. "For a day or two, of course, I was in a frantic state of mind for fear you should be suspected, or the revolver should betray you. But though I saw the electric sparks, of course, I knew nothing about the photographs. I wasn't even aware that the apparatus took negatives automatically.

And I was so full of the terrible reports in the newspapers about your sudden loss of health, that I could think of nothing else--least of all my own safety. As good luck would have it, however, the clergyman at Wrode, who knew the Wilsons, happened to speak to me of the murder--all England called it the murder and talked of nothing else for at least a fortnight,--and in the course of conversation he mentioned this apparatus of Mr. Callingham's construction. 'What a pity,' he said, 'there didn't happen to be one of them in the library at the time! If it was focussed towards the persons, and had been set on by the victim, it would have photographed the whole scene the murder, the murderer.'

"That hint revealed much to me. As he spoke, I remembered suddenly about those mysterious flashes when you burst all at once on my sight from behind the screen. Till that moment, I thought of them only as some result of your too suddenly turning off the electric current. But then, it came home to me in a second that Mr.

Callingham must have set out his apparatus all ready for experimenting--that the electric apparatus was there to put it in working order. The b.u.t.ton you turned must not only have stopped the current that nailed me writhing to the spot: it must also have set working the automatic photographic camera!

"That thought, as you may imagine, filled me with speechless alarm: for I remembered then that one of the flashes broke upon us at the exact moment when you fired the pistol. Such a possibility was horrible to contemplate. The photographs by themselves could give no clue to our conversation or to the events that compelled you, almost against your own will, to fire that fatal shot. If they were found by the police, all would be up with both of us. They might hang ME if they liked: except for Elsie's sake, I didn't mind much about that: but for your safety, come what might, I felt I must manage to get hold of them or to destroy them.

"Were the negatives already in the hands of the police? That was now the great question. I read the reports diligently, with all their descriptions of the room, and noticed that while the table, the alcove, the screen, the box, the electrical apparatus, were all carefully mentioned, not a word was said anywhere about the possession of the negatives. Reasoning further upon the description of the supposed murderer as given by the servants, and placarded broadcast in every town in England, I came to the conclusion that the police couldn't yet have discovered the existence of these negatives: for some of them must surely have photographed my face, however little in focus; while the printed descriptions mentioned only the man's back, as the servants saw him escaping from the window. The papers said the room was being kept closed till the inquest, for inspection in due time by the coroner's jury. I made up my mind at once. When the room was opened for the jurors to view it, I must get in there and carry them off, if they caught me in the attempt.

"It was no use trying before the jury had seen the room. But as soon as that was all over, I judged the strictness of the watch upon the premises would be relaxed, and the windows would probably be opened a little to air the place. So on the morning of the inquest, I told the Wilsons casually I'd met you at Torquay and had therefore a sort of interest in learning the result of the coroner's deliberation.

Then I took my bicycle, and rode across to Woodbury. Leaning up my machine against the garden wall, I walked carelessly in at the gate, and up the walk to the library window, as if the place belonged to me. Oh, how my heart beat as I looked in and wondered! The folding halves were open, and the box stood on the table, still connected with the wires that conducted the electrical current. I stood and hesitated in alarm. Were the negatives still there, or had the police discovered them? If they were gone, all was up with you. The game was lost. No jury on earth, I felt sure, would believe my story.

"I vaulted up to the sill. Thank heaven, I was athletic. Not a soul was about: but I heard a noise of m.u.f.fled voices in the other rooms behind. Treading cat-like across the floor, I turned the key in the lock. A chalk mark still showed the position of the pistol on the ground exactly as you flung it. The box was on the table, and I saw at a glance, the wires which connected it with the battery had never been disconnected. I was afraid of receiving a shock if I touched them with my hands, and I had no time to waste in discovering electrical attachments. So I pulled out my knife, and you can fancy with what trembling hands I cut that wire on either side and released the box from its dangerous connections. I knew only too well the force of that current. Then I took the thing under my arm, leaped from the window once more, and ran across the shrubbery towards the spot where I'd left my bicycle.

"On the way, the thought struck me that if I carried along the camera, all would be up with me should I happen to be challenged. It was the only one of the sort in existence at the time, and the wires at the side would at once suffice to identify it and to arouse the suspicion even of an English policeman. I paused for a moment behind a thick clump of lilacs and tried to pull out the incriminating negatives. Oh, Una, I did it for your sake; but there, terrified and trembling, in hiding behind the bushes, and in danger of my life, with that still more unspeakable danger for yours haunting me always like a nightmare, can you wonder that for the moment I almost felt myself a murderer? The very breezes in the trees made my heart give a jump, and then stand still within me. I got out the first two or three plates with some trifling difficulty, for I didn't understand the automatic apparatus then as I understand it now: but the fourth stuck hard for a minute; the fifth broke in two; and the sixth--well, the sixth plate baffled me entirely by getting jammed in the clockwork, and refusing to move, either backward or forward.

"At that moment, I either heard or fancied I heard a loud noise of pursuit, a hue and cry behind me. Zeal for your safety had made me preternaturally nervous. I looked about me hurriedly, thrust the negatives I'd recovered into my breast-pocket as fast as ever I could, flung the apparatus away from me with the sixth plate jammed hard in the groove, and made off at the top of my speed for the wall behind me. For there, at that critical point, it occurred to me suddenly that the sixth and last flash of the machine had come and gone just as I stood poising myself on the ledge of the window-sill; and I thought to myself--rightly as it turned out--this additional evidence would only strengthen the belief in the public mind that Mr. Callingham had been murdered by the man whom the servants saw escaping from the window.

"The rest, my child, you know pretty well already. In a panic on your account, I scrambled over the wall, tearing my hands as I went with that nasty-bottle gla.s.s, reached my bicycle outside, and made off, not for the country, but for the inn where they were holding the coroner's inquest. My left hand I had to hold, tied up in my handkerchief to stop the bleeding, in the pocket of my jacket: but I thought this the best way, all the same, to escape detection. And, indeed, instead of being, as I feared, the only man there in bicycling dress and knickerbockers, I found the occasion had positively attracted all the cyclists of the neighbourhood. Each man went there to show his own innocence of fear or suspicion. A good dozen or two of bicyclists stood gathered already in the body of the room in the same incriminating costume. So I found safety in numbers. Even the servants who had seen me disappear through the window, though their eyes lighted upon me more than once, never for a moment seemed to suspect me. And I know very well why. When I stand up, I'm the straightest and most perpendicular man that ever walked erect. But when I poise to jump, I bend my spine so much that I produce the impression of being almost hump-backed. It was that att.i.tude you recognised in me when I jumped from the window just now."

"Why, Jack," I cried clinging to him in a perfect whirlwind of wonder, "one can hardly believe it--that was only an hour ago!"

"That was only an hour ago," Jack answered, smiling. "But as for you, I suppose you've lived half a lifetime again in it. And now you know the whole secret of the Woodbury Mystery. And you won't want to give yourself up to the police any longer."

CHAPTER XXIV.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

"But why didn't you explain it all to me at the very first?" I exclaimed, all tremulous. "When you met me at Quebec, I mean--why didn't you tell me then? Did you and Elsie come there on purpose to meet me?"

"Yes, we came there to meet you," Jack answered. "But we were afraid to make ourselves known to you all at once just at first, because, you see, Una, I more than half suspected then, what I know now to be the truth, that you were coming out to Canada on purpose to hunt me up, not as your friend and future husband, but in enmity and suspicion as your father's murderer. And in any case we were uncertain which att.i.tude you might adopt towards me. But I see I must explain a little more even now. I haven't told you yet why I came at all to Canada."

"Tell me now," I answered. "I must know everything to-day. I can never rest now till I've heard the whole story."

"Well," Jack went on more calmly, "after the first excitement wore off in the public mind, there came after a bit a lull of languid interest; the papers began to forget the supposed facts of the murder, and to dwell far more upon your own new role as a psychological curiosity. They talked much about your strange new life and its a.n.a.logies elsewhere. I was anxious to see you, of course, to satisfy myself of your condition; but the doctors who had charge of you refused to let you mix for a while with anyone you had known in your First State; and I now think wisely. It was best you should recover your general health and faculties by slow degrees, without being puzzled and distracted by constant upsetting recollections and suggestions of your past history.

"But for me, of course, at the time, the separation was terrible.

Each morning, I read with feverish interest the reports of your health, and longed, day after day, to hear of some distinct improvement. And yet at the same time, I was terrified at every approach to complete convalescence: I feared that if you got better at all, you might remember too quick, and that then the sudden rush of recollection might kill you or upset your reason. But by-and-by, it became clear to me you could remember nothing of the actual shot itself. And I saw plainly why. It was the firing of the pistol that obliterated, as it were, every trace of your past life in your disorganised brain. And it obliterated ITSELF too. Your new life began just one moment later, with the Picture of the dead man stretched before you in his blood on the floor, and a figure in the background disappearing through the window."

How clever he was, to be sure! I saw in a moment Jack had interpreted my whole frame of mind correctly and wonderfully.

"Well, I went back to Babbicombe," Jack continued, "and, lest my heart should break for want of human sympathy, I confided every word of my terrible story to Elsie. Elsie can trust me; and Elsie believed me. Gradually, as you began to recover, I realised the soundness of your doctor's idea that you should be allowed to come back to yourself by re-education from the very beginning, without any too early intrusion of reminiscences from your previous life to confuse and disturb you. But I couldn't go on with my profession, all the same, while I waited. I couldn't attend as I ought to my patients' wants and ailments: I was too concentrated upon you: the strain was too great upon me. So I threw up my practice, came out to Canada, bought a bit of land, and began farming here, and seeing a few patients now and again locally, just to fill up my time with. I felt confident in the end you would recover and remember me. I felt confident you would come to yourself and marry me. But still, it was very long work waiting. Every month, Elsie got news indirectly from Minnie Moore or someone of your state of health; and I intended to go back and try to see you as soon as ever you were in a condition to bear the shock of re-living your previous life again.

"Unfortunately, however, the police got hold of YOU before I could carry my plan into execution. As soon as I heard that, I made up my mind at once to go home by the first mail and break it all gently to you. So Elsie and I started for Quebec, meaning to sail by the Dominion steamer for England. But at the hotel at Quebec we saw the telegrams announcing that you were then on your way out to Canada.

Well, of course we didn't feel sure whether you came as a friend or an enemy. We were certain it was to seek me out you were coming to America; but whether you remembered me still and still loved me, or whether you'd found out some stray clue to the missing man, and were anxious to hunt me down as your father's murderer, we hadn't the slightest conception. So under those circ.u.mstances, we thought it best not to meet you ourselves at the steamer, or to reveal our ident.i.ty too soon, for fear of a catastrophe. I knew it would be better to wait and watch--to gain your confidence, if possible--in any case, to find out how you were affected on first seeing us and talking with us.

"Well then, as the time came on for the Sarmatian to arrive, it began to strike me by degrees that all Quebec was agog with curiosity to see you. I dared not go down to meet you at the quay myself; but the Chief Constable of Quebec, Major Tascherel, was an old friend and fellow-officer of my father's; and when I explained to him my fears that you might be mobbed by sightseers on your arrival at the harbour, and told him how afraid I was of the shock it might give you to meet an old friend unexpectedly at the steamer's side, he very kindly consented to go down and see you safe through the Custom House, It was so lucky I knew him. If it hadn't been for that, you might have been horribly inconvenienced.

"As you may imagine, when we first saw you get into the Pullman car, both Elsie and I felt our hearts come up into our months with suspense and anxiety. We'd arranged it all so on purpose, for we felt sure you were on your way to Palmyra to find us: but when it came to the actual crisis, we wondered most nervously what effect the sight of us might have upon your system. But in a moment, I saw you didn't remember us at all, or only vaguely attached to us some faint sense of friendliness. That was well, because it enabled us to gain your confidence easily. As we spoke with you, the sense of friendly interest deepened. I knew that, all unconsciously to yourself, you loved me still, and that in a very short time, if only I could see you and be with you, I might bring all back to you."

Jack paused and looked at me. As he paused, I felt my old self revive again more completely than ever with a rush.

"Oh, Jack," I cried, "so you HAVE done; so you HAVE brought all back to me! My Second State's over: I'm the same girl you used to know at Torquay once more. I remember everything--everything--such a world--such a lifetime! I feel as if my head would burst with all the things I remember. I don't know what to do with it. I'm so tired, so weary."

"Lay it here," Jack said simply.

And I laid it on his shoulder, just as I used to do years ago, and cried so long in silence, and was ever so much comforted. For I've admitted all along that I'm only a woman.

There we sat, hand in hand, for many minutes more, saying never another word, but sympathising silently, till Elsie returned from Palmyra.

When she burst into the room, she called out lightly as she entered:

"Well, I've got you your lemon, Una, and I do hope--" Then she broke short suddenly. "Oh, Jack," she cried, faltering, and half guessing the truth, "what's the meaning of this? Why, Una's been crying. You bad boy, you've been frightening her. I oughtn't to have left her ten minutes alone with you!"

Jack rose and held up his hand in warning.

"Don't talk to her at present, Elsie," he said. "You needn't be afraid. Una's found out everything. She remembers all now. And she knows how everything happened. And she's borne it so bravely, without any more shock to her health and strength than was absolutely inevitable.--Let her sleep if she can. It'll do her so much good.--But, Elsie, there's one thing I want to say to you both before I hand her over to you. After all that's happened, I don't think Una'll want to hear that hateful name of Callingham any more.

It never was really hers, and it never shall be. We'll let bygones be bygones in every other respect, and not rake up any details of that hateful story. But she's been Una to us always, and she shall be Una still. It's a very good name for her: for there's only one of her. But next week, I propose, she shall be Una Ivor."

I threw myself on his neck, and cried again like a child.

"I accept, Jack," I said, sobbing. "Let it be Ivor, if you will.

Next week, then, I'll be your wife at last, my darling!"