The Last Stroke: A Detective Story Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  IN CONSULTATION.

  When the doctor had completed his hasty sketch, he returned the cardupon which it was made, to the detective and silently awaited hiscomment.

  "It is very helpful," said Ferrars. "It would seem, then, that justopposite the mound the lake makes an inward curve?"

  "Yes."

  "And that the centre of the mound corresponds to the central or nearestpoint of the curve?"

  The doctor nodded assent.

  "Now am I right in thinking that anything occurring at this centralpoint would be unseen from the road?"

  "Quite right. The mound rises higher than the road, and its length shutsoff the view at either end, that and the line of the road, which curvesaway from the lake at the north end, and runs in an almost straightdirection for some distance at the other."

  "I see." And again for a moment Ferrars consulted the sketch. Then--

  "Did you measure the distance between the target and the spot where thebody was found?"

  "No. It was the usual distance for practice, I should think."

  "It was rather a long range," interposed Brierly. "I am something of ashot myself and I noticed that."

  Again the detective pondered over the sketch.

  "By this time I dare say," he said presently, "there will be any numberof curious people in the wood and about that spot."

  "I doubt it," replied Doctor Barnes. "I thought of that, and spoke toDoran. Mr. Brierly was so well liked by all that it only needed a wordto keep the men and boys from doing anything that might hinder athorough investigation. Two men are upon the road just below theschool-house to turn back the thoughtless curious ones. It was Doran'sforesight," added the honest physician. "I suppose you will wish toexplore the wood near the mound?"

  Ferrars laid aside the sketch. "As the coroner," he said, "you can helpme. Of course, you can have no doubt as to the nature of the shooting.There could be no mistake."

  "None. The shot at the back could not have been self-inflicted."

  "Then if you can rely upon your constables and this man Doran, let themmake a quiet inquiry up and down the wood road in search of any one whomay have driven over it between the hours of----"

  "Eight and ten o'clock," said Hilda Grant. "He," meaning her latefriend, "left his boarding place at eight o'clock, or near it, and hewas found shortly before ten."

  Her speech was low and hesitating, but it did not falter.

  "Thank you," said the detective, and turned again to the doctor.

  "Next," said he, "if you can find a trusty man, who will find out for usif any boat or boats have been seen about the lake shore during thosehours, it will be another step in the right direction. And now, you havetold me that you suspect no one; that there is no clue whatever." Heglanced from one to the other. "Still we are told that very often bythose who should know best, but who were not trained to such searching.To begin, I must know something, Mr. Brierly, about your brother and hispast. Is he your only brother?"

  "Yes. We lost a sister ten years ago, a mere child. There were no otherchildren."

  "And--your parents?"

  "Are both dead."

  "Ah! Mr. Brierly, give me, if you please, a sketch of your life and ofyour brother's, dating, let us say, from the time of your father'sdeath."

  If the request was unexpected or unwelcome to Robert Brierly he made nosign, but began at once.

  "If I do not go into details sufficiently, Mr. Ferrars," he said, by wayof preamble, "you will, of course, interrogate me."

  The detective nodded, and Brierly went on.

  "My father was an Episcopalian clergyman, and, at the time of his death,we were living in one of the wealthy suburbs of Chicago, where he hadheld a charge for ten years, and where we remained for six years afterhe gave up the pulpit. Being in comfortable circumstances, we found it amost pleasant place of residence. My sister's death brought us our firstsorrow, and it was soon followed by the loss of our mother. We continuedto live, however, in the old home until my brother and I were ready togo to college, and then my father shut up the house and went abroad witha party of congenial friends. My father was not a business man, and theman to whom he had confided the management of his affairs misarrangedthem during his absence, to what extent we never fully knew until aftermy father's death, when we found ourselves, after all was settled, withsomething like fifteen thousand dollars each, and our educations. Mybrother had already begun to prepare for the ministry, and I had decidedearly to follow the career of a journalist."

  "Are you the elder?" asked the detective.

  "Yes." Brierly paused for further comment, but none came, and heresumed. "It had been the intention of my father that my brother and Ishould make the tour of the two continents when our studies were at anend; that is, our school days. He had made this same journey in hisyouth, and he had even mapped out routes for us, and told us of certainstrange and little explored places which we must not miss, such as therock temples of Kylas in Central India, and various wonders of Egypt. Itwas a favourite project of his. 'It will leave you less money, boys,' heused to say, 'but it will give what can never be taken from you. When aman knows his own world, he is better fitted for the next.' And so,after much discussion we determined to make the journey. Indeed, toCharley it began to seem a pilgrimage, in which love, duty, and pleasureintermingled."

  He paused, and Hilda turned away her face as a long sighing breathescaped his lips.

  "Shortly after our return I took up journalistic work in seriousearnest, and my brother, having been ordained, was about to accept acharge when he met with an accident which was followed by a longillness. When he arose from this, his physicians would not hear of hisassuming the labours of a pastor over a large and active suburbanchurch, and, as my brother could not bear to be altogether idle, and thecountry was thought to be the place for him, it ended in his cominghere, to take charge of the little school. He was inordinately fond ofchildren, and a born instructor, so it seemed to me. He was pleased withthe beauty of the place and the quiet of it, from the first, and he wasnot long in finding his greatest happiness here."

  His voice sank, and he turned a face in which gratitude and sorrowblended, upon the girl who suddenly covered her own with her tremblinghands.

  But the detective, with a new look of intentness upon his face, andwithout a moment's pause, asked quickly.

  "Then you have been in this place before, of course?"

  "No, I have not. For the first three months Charley was very willing tocome to me, in the city. Then came a very busy time for me and he cametwice, somewhat reluctantly, I thought. Six months ago I was sent toNew Mexico to do some special work, and returned to the city on Tuesdaylast." His voice broke, and he got up and walked to the window farthestfrom the group.

  While he had been speaking, Ferrars had scribbled aimlessly and a strokeat a time, as it seemed, upon the margin of the printed side of the cardwhich bore the sketch made by Doctor Barnes; and now, while Hilda's facewas again turned away, the young man at the window still stood with hisback towards all in the room, he pushed the card from the edge of thetable, and shot a significant glance toward the doctor.

  Picking up the card, Doctor Barnes glanced at it carelessly, and thenreplaced it upon the table, having read these words--

  "I wish to speak with her alone. Make it a professional necessity."

  As Brierly turned toward them once more the detective turned to theyoung girl. "I would like to hear something from you, Miss Grant, if youfind yourself equal to it."

  Hilda set her lips in firm lines, and after a moment said steadily--

  "I am quite at your service."

  "One minute." The doctor arose and addressed himself to the detective.

  "I feel sure that it will be best for Miss Grant that she talk with youalone. As her physician, I will caution her against putting too great arestraint upon herself, upon her feelings. While you talk with her,Ferrars, Mr. Brierly and I will go back to my quarters, unless you bidus com
e back."

  "I do not," interposed the detective. "I will join you soon, and if needbe, you can then return, doctor."

  At first it seemed as if Hilda were about to remonstrate. But she caughtthe look of intelligence that flashed from his eyes to hers, and she satin silence while Doctor Barnes explained the route to his cottage andmurmured a low good-bye, while Brierly took her hand and bent over herwith a kind adieu.

  "I may see you to-morrow," he whispered. "You will let me come, sister?"The last word breathed close to her ear.

  Her lips moved soundlessly, but he read her eager consent in her timidreturn of his hand clasp and the look in her sad, grey eyes, andfollowed the doctor from the room.

  When Frank Ferrars had closed the door behind the two men, he wasted notime in useless words, but, seating himself opposite the girl, and soclose that he could catch, if need be, her faintest whisper, he began,his own tones low and touched with sympathy--

  "Miss Grant," he said, "I already feel assured that you know how manythings must be considered before we can ever begin such a search as Iforesee before me. Of course it may happen that before the end of thecoroner's inquest some clue or key to the situation may have developed.But, if I have heard all, or, rather, if there has not been someimportant fact or feature overlooked, we must go behind the scenes forour data, our hints and possible clues. Do you comprehend me?"

  Hilda Grant had drawn herself erect, and was listening intently with herclear eyes fixed upon his face, and she seemed with her whole soul to bestudying this man, while, with her ears she took in and comprehended hisevery word.

  "You mean," she answered slowly, "that there may be something in himselfor some event or fact in his past, or that of his family, which hasbrought about this?" She turned away her face. She could not put theawful fact into words.

  "I knew you would understand me, and it is not to his past alone that Imust look for help, but to others."

  "Do you mean mine?"

  "Yes. You do understand!"

  There was a look of relief in his eyes. His lips took on a gentlercurve. "I see that you are going to help me."

  "If it is in my power, I surely am. Where shall we begin?"

  "Tell me all that you can about Charles Brierly, all that he has toldyou about himself. Will it be too hard?"

  "No matter." She drew herself more erect. "I think if you will let metell my own story briefly, and then fill it out at need, byinterrogation, it will be easiest for me."

  "And best for me. Thank you." He leaned back and rested his hands uponthe arms of his chair.

  "I am ready to hear you," he said, and withdrew his full gaze from herface, letting his eyelids fall and sitting thus with half-closed eyes.

  "Of course," she began, "it was only natural, or so it appeared to me,that we should become friends soon, meeting, as we must, daily, andbeing so constantly brought together, as upper and under teachers inthis little village school. He never seemed really strange to me, and weseemed thrown upon each other for society, for the young people of thevillage held aloof, because of our newness, and our position, I suppose,and the people of the hotels and boarding-houses found, naturally, aset, or sets, by themselves. I grew up in what you might call areligious atmosphere, and when I knew that he was a minister of thegospel, I felt at once full confidence in him and met his friendlyadvances quite frankly. I think we understood each other very soon. Youperhaps have not been told that he filled a vacancy, taking the place ofa young man who was called away because of his mother's illness, and whodid not return, giving up the school at her request. It was in April, ayear ago, that he--Charlie--took up the work, coming back, as I did,after the summer vacation. It was after that that he began telling meabout himself a little; to speak often of his brother, who was, to hiseyes, a model of young manhood and greatly his intellectual superior."

  She paused a moment, and then with a little proud lifting of her roundedchin, resumed--

  "I was not quite willing to agree as to the superiority; for CharlesBrierly was as bright, as talented and promising a young man, as goodand as modest as any I ever knew or hope to know, and I have met somewho rank high as pastors and orators."

  "I can well believe you," he said, with his eyes upon her face, and hisvoice was sincere and full of sympathy.

  "We were not engaged until quite recently. Although we both, I think,understood ourselves and each other long before. And now, what more canI say? He has told me much of his school days, of his student life, and,of course, of his brother's also. In fact, without meaning it, he hastaught me to stand somewhat in awe of this highly fastidious, faultlessand much-beloved brother, but I have heard of no family quarrel, noenemy, no unpleasant episode of any sort. For himself, he told me, and Ibelieve his lightest word, that he never cared for any other woman; hadnever been much in women's society, in fact, owing to his almostconstant study and travel. Here in the village all was his friends; hispupils were all his adorers, young and old alike were his admirers, andhe had room in his heart for all. No hand in Glenville was ever raisedagainst him, I am sure."

  "You think then that it was perhaps an accident, a mistake?" He waseyeing her keenly from beneath his drooping lashes.

  "No!" She sprang suddenly to her feet and stood erect before him. "No,Mr. Ferrars, I do not! I cannot. I was never in my life superstitious. Ido not believe it is superstition that compels me to feel that CharlesBrierly was murdered of intent, and by an enemy, an enemy who hasstalked him unawares, for money perhaps, and who has planned cunningly,and hid his traces well."