Once more, Emily felt the necessity of controlling herself.
Alban had said that he had "reasons of his own for going to London."
Could she venture to ask him what those reasons were? She could only persist in restraining her curiosity, and conclude that he would have mentioned his motive, if it had been (as she had at one time supposed) connected with herself. It was a wise decision. No earthly consideration would have induced Alban to answer her, if she had put the question to him.
All doubt of the correctness of his own first impression was now at an end; he was convinced that Mrs. Rook had been an accomplice in the crime committed, in 1877, at the village inn. His object in traveling to London was to consult the newspaper narrative of the murder. He, too, had been one of the readers at the Museum--had examined the back numbers of the newspaper--and had arrived at the conclusion that Emily"s father had been the victim of the crime. Unless he found means to prevent it, her course of reading would take her from the year 1876 to the year 1877, and under that date, she would see the fatal report, heading the top of a column, and printed in conspicuous type.
In the meanwhile Emily had broken the silence, before it could lead to embarra.s.sing results, by asking if Alban had seen Mrs. Rook again, on the morning when he left Sir Jervis"s house.
"There was nothing to be gained by seeing her," Alban replied. "Now that she and her husband had decided to remain at Redwood Hall, I knew where to find her in case of necessity. As it happened I saw n.o.body, on the morning of my departure, but Sir Jervis himself. He still held to his idea of having his pictures cleaned for nothing. "If you can"t do it yourself," he said, "couldn"t you teach my secretary?" He described the lady whom he had engaged in your place as a "nasty middle-aged woman with a perpetual cold in her head." At the same time (he remarked) he was a friend to the women, "because he got them cheap." I declined to teach the unfortunate secretary the art of picture-cleaning. Finding me determined, Sir Jervis was quite ready to say good-by. But he made use of me to the last. He employed me as postman and saved a stamp. The letter addressed to you arrived at breakfast-time. Sir Jervis said, "You are going to London; suppose you take it with you?""
"Did he tell you that there was a letter of his own inclosed in the envelope?"
"No. When he gave me the envelope it was already sealed."
Emily at once handed to him Sir Jervis"s letter. "That will tell you who employs me at the Museum, and what my work is," she said.
He looked through the letter, and at once offered--eagerly offered--to help her.
"I have been a student in the reading-room at intervals, for years past," he said. "Let me a.s.sist you, and I shall have something to do in my holiday time." He was so anxious to be of use that he interrupted her before she could thank him. "Let us take alternate years," he suggested.
"Did you not tell me you were searching the newspapers published in eighteen hundred and seventy-six?"
"Yes."
"Very well. I will take the next year. You will take the year after. And so on."
"You are very kind," she answered--"but I should like to propose an improvement on your plan."
"What improvement?" he asked, rather sharply.
"If you will leave the five years, from "seventy-six to "eighty-one, entirely to me," she resumed, "and take the next five years, reckoning _backward_ from "seventy-six, you will help me to better purpose. Sir Jervis expects me to look for reports of Central American Explorations, through the newspapers of the last forty years; and I have taken the liberty of limiting the heavy task imposed on me. When I report my progress to my employer, I should like to say that I have got through ten years of the examination, instead of five. Do you see any objection to the arrangement I propose?"
He proved to be obstinate--incomprehensibly obstinate.
"Let us try my plan to begin with," he insisted. "While you are looking through "seventy-six, let me be at work on "seventy-seven. If you still prefer your own arrangement, after that, I will follow your suggestion with pleasure. Is it agreed?"
Her acute perception--enlightened by his tone as wall as by his words--detected something under the surface already.
"It isn"t agreed until I understand you a little better," she quietly replied. "I fancy you have some object of your own in view."
She spoke with her usual directness of look and manner. He was evidently disconcerted. "What makes you think so?" he asked.
"My own experience of myself makes me think so," she answered. "If _I_ had some object to gain, I should persist in carrying it out--like you."
"Does that mean, Miss Emily, that you refuse to give way?"
"No, Mr. Morris. I have made myself disagreeable, but I know when to stop. I trust you--and submit."
If he had been less deeply interested in the accomplishment of his merciful design, he might have viewed Emily"s sudden submission with some distrust. As it was, his eagerness to prevent her from discovering the narrative of the murder hurried him into an act of indiscretion.
He made an excuse to leave her immediately, in the fear that she might change her mind.
"I have inexcusably prolonged my visit," he said. "If I presume on your kindness in this way, how can I hope that you will receive me again? We meet to-morrow in the reading-room."
He hastened away, as if he was afraid to let her say a word in reply.
Emily reflected.
"Is there something he doesn"t want me to see, in the news of the year "seventy-seven?" The one explanation which suggested itself to her mind a.s.sumed that form of expression--and the one method of satisfying her curiosity that seemed likely to succeed, was to search the volume which Alban had reserved for his own reading.
For two days they pursued their task together, seated at opposite desks.
On the third day Emily was absent.
Was she ill?
She was at the library in the City, consulting the file of _The Times_ for the year 1877.
CHAPTER XXIV. MR. ROOK.
Emily"s first day in the City library proved to be a day wasted.
She began reading the back numbers of the newspaper at haphazard, without any definite idea of what she was looking for. Conscious of the error into which her own impatience had led her, she was at a loss how to retrace the false step that she had taken. But two alternatives presented themselves: either to abandon the hope of making any discovery--or to attempt to penetrate Alban "s motives by means of pure guesswork, pursued in the dark.
How was the problem to be solved? This serious question troubled her all through the evening, and kept her awake when she went to bed. In despair of her capacity to remove the obstacle that stood in her way, she decided on resuming her regular work at the Museum--turned her pillow to get at the cool side of it--and made up her mind to go asleep.
In the case of the wiser animals, the Person submits to Sleep. It is only the superior human being who tries the hopeless experiment of making Sleep submit to the Person. Wakeful on the warm side of the pillow, Emily remained wakeful on the cool side--thinking again and again of the interview with Alban which had ended so strangely.
Little by little, her mind pa.s.sed the limits which had restrained it thus far. Alban"s conduct in keeping his secret, in the matter of the newspapers, now began to a.s.sociate itself with Alban"s conduct in keeping that other secret, which concealed from her his suspicions of Mrs. Rook.
She started up in bed as the next possibility occurred to her.
In speaking of the disaster which had compelled Mr. and Mrs. Rook to close the inn, Cecilia had alluded to an inquest held on the body of the murdered man. Had the inquest been mentioned in the newspapers, at the time? And had Alban seen something in the report, which concerned Mrs.
Rook?
Led by the new light that had fallen on her, Emily returned to the library the next morning with a definite idea of what she had to look for. Incapable of giving exact dates, Cecilia had informed her that the crime was committed "in the autumn." The month to choose, in beginning her examination, was therefore the month of August.
No discovery rewarded her. She tried September, next--with the same unsatisfactory results. On Monday the first of October she met with some encouragement at last. At the top of a column appeared a telegraphic summary of all that was then known of the crime. In the number for the Wednesday following, she found a full report of the proceedings at the inquest.
Pa.s.sing over the preliminary remarks, Emily read the evidence with the closest attention.
The jury having viewed the body, and having visited an outhouse in which the murder had been committed, the first witness called was Mr. Benjamin Rook, landlord of the Hand-in-Hand inn.
On the evening of Sunday, September 30th, 1877, two gentlemen presented themselves at Mr. Rook"s house, under circ.u.mstances which especially excited his attention.
The youngest of the two was short, and of fair complexion. He carried a knapsack, like a gentleman on a pedestrian excursion; his manners were pleasant; and he was decidedly good-looking. His companion, older, taller, and darker--and a finer man altogether--leaned on his arm and seemed to be exhausted. In every respect they were singularly unlike each other. The younger stranger (excepting little half-whiskers) was clean shaved. The elder wore his whole beard. Not knowing their names, the landlord distinguished them, at the coroner"s suggestion, as the fair gentleman, and the dark gentleman.