Dark Hollow Part 32

"Don't come any nearer; it is not necessary." A pause, then the quick question ringing hollow from the darkness, "Why have your doubts returned? Why are you no longer the woman you were when not an hour ago and in this very spot you cried, 'I will be Oliver's advocate!'" Then, as no answer came,--as minutes pa.s.sed, and still no answer came, he spoke again and added: "I know that you are ill and exhausted--broken between duty and sympathy; but you must answer me, Mrs. Scoville. My affairs won't wait. I must know the truth and all the truth before this day is over."

"You shall." Her voice sounded hollow too and oh, how weary! "You allowed the doc.u.ment you showed me to remain a little too long before my eyes. That last page--need I say it?"

"Say it."

"Shows--shows changes, Judge Ostrander. Some words have been erased and new ones written in. They are not many, but--"

"I understand. I do not blame you, Deborah." The words came after a pause and very softly, almost as softly as her own BUT which had sounded its low knell of doom through the darkness. "Too many stumbling-blocks in your way, Deborah, too much to combat. The most trusting heart must give way under such a strain. That page WAS tampered with. I tampered with it myself. I am not expert at forgery. I had better have left it, as he wrote it." Then after another silence, he added, with a certain vehemence: "We will struggle no longer, either you or I. The boy must come home. Prepare Reuther, or, if you think best, provide a place for her where she will be safe from the storm which bids fair to wreck us here. No, don't speak; just ask Mr. Black to return, will you?"

"Judge--"

"I understand. Mr. Black, Deborah."

Slowly she moved away and began to grope for the door. As her hand fell on the k.n.o.b she thought she heard a sob in those impenetrable depths behind her; but when she listened again, all was still; still as if merciful death and not weary life gave its significance to the surrounding gloom.

Shuddering, she turned the k.n.o.b and paused again for rebuff or command.

Neither came; and, realising that having spoken once the judge would not speak again, she slipped softly away, and the door swung to after her.

When Mr. Black re-entered the study, it was to find the room lighted and the judge bent over the table, writing.

"You are going to send for Oliver?" he queried.

The judge hesitated, then motioning Black to sit, said abruptly:

"What is Andrews' att.i.tude in this matter?"

Andrews was Shelby's District Attorney.

Black's answer was like the man.

"I saw him for one minute an hour ago. I think, at present, he is inclined to be both deaf and dumb, but if he's driven to action, he will act. And, judge, this man Flannagan isn't going to stop where he is."

"Black, be merciful to my misery. What does this man know? Have you any idea?"

"No, judge, I haven't. He's as tight as a drum,--and as noisy. It is possible--just possible that he's as empty. A few days will tell."

"I cannot wait for a few days. I hardly feel as if I could wait a few hours. Oliver must come, even if--if the consequences are likely to be fatal. An Ostrander once accused cannot skulk. Oliver has been accused and--Send that!" he quickly cried, pulling forward the telegram he had been writing.

Mr. Black took up the telegram and read:

Come at once. Imperative. No delay and no excuse.

ARCHIBALD OSTRANDER.

"Mrs. Scoville will supply the address," continued the poor father. "You will see that it goes, and that its sending is kept secret. The answer, if any is sent, had better be directed to your office. What do you say, Black?"

"I am your friend, right straight through, judge. Your friend."

"And my boy's adviser?"

"You wish that?"

"Very much."

"Then, there's my hand on it, unless he wishes a change when we see him."

"He will not wish any change."

"I don't know. I'm a surly fellow, judge. I have known you all these years, yet I've never expressed--never said what I even find it hard to say now, that--that my esteem is something more than esteem; that--that I'll do anything for you, judge."

"I--we won't talk of that, Black. Tell Mrs. Scoville to keep me informed--and bring me any message that may come. The boy, even if he leaves the first thing in the morning, cannot get here before to-morrow night."

"Not possibly."

"He will telegraph. I shall hear from him. O G.o.d! the hours I must wait; my boy! my boy!"

It was nature's irrepressible cry. Black pressed his hand and went out with the telegram.

BOOK III

THE DOOR OF MYSTERY

XXVII

HE MUST BE FOUND

Three hours later, an agitated confab took place at the gate, or rather between the two front gates. Mr. Black had rung for admittance, and Mrs.

Scoville had answered the call. In the constrained interview which followed, these words were said:

"One moment, Mrs. Scoville. How can I tell the judge! Young Ostrander is gone--flew the city, and I can get no clew to his whereabouts. Some warning of what is happening here may have reached him, or he may be simply following impulses consequent upon his personal disappointments; but the fact is just this--he asked for two weeks' leave to go West upon business,--and he's been gone three. Meanwhile, no word has come, nor can his best friends tell the place of his destination. I have been burning the telegraph wires ever since the first despatch, and this is the result."

"Poor Judge Ostrander!" Then, in lower and still more pathetic tones, "Poor Reuther!"

"Where is Reuther?"

"At Miss Weeks'. I had to command her to leave me alone with the judge.

It's the first time I ever spoke unkindly to her."

"Shall I tell the judge the result of his telegram, or will you?"

"Have you the messages with you?"