He rose slowly, painfully, inch by inch. He pointed with his right hand towards the floor.
"Woman, my daughter has been slain."
"Really, Mr. Haines, you are always seeing the most dreadful things in dreams. If I were you I should take less supper."
"It"s not the supper. It"s the spirit."
"Well, in that case, I should take less of that."
He frowned.
"You know very well what I mean. I am not speaking of the spirit of alcohol, but of the spirit of the soul. Now one task is ended. Another is begun. I will be the avenger of blood. Mine will it be to execute judgment on him who has destroyed my daughter"s body, having first of all destroyed her soul."
"Jack Haines, what nonsense you do talk."
"What do you mean, woman?"
"My good man, do you think that you awe me by your persistence in calling me woman? I am a woman; but let me tell you in confidence that you strike me as only being part of a man!"
"You jeer at me. You are always jeering. You know not what you say."
"That is good--from you. Your style of conversation may have been suited to Strikehigh City, where they all were lunatics. But in London it is out of place."
"London!--bah!"
He threw out his arms, as if to put the idea of London clean behind him.
"Precisely. Then if it"s London!--bah! Why don"t you return to Strikehigh City?"
"I will finish the work which I came to do. Then I will return."
I had sat down on an easy-chair. I had crossed my legs, and was swinging my foot in the air. Old Haines stood glowering down at me, clenching his fists to hold his temper in. I looked him up and down.
After all he was, every inch of him, a narrow-minded, cross-grained, hidebound New Englander.
"You are more likely to see the inside of a prison if you don"t take care. You know, they manage things differently upon this side. Jack Haines, let me speak to you a word in season--a candid word. It may do you good. You killed your wife; I do not mean legally, but you killed her all the same. A prolonged course of you would be sufficient to kill any wife."
"Woman!"
"You drove your daughter from you. So unwilling was she to have it known that she was connected with you, that she took her mother"s name.
She called herself Louise O"Donnel. Under that name she came to England. Conscious that, even underneath her mother"s name, you might trace her out in England, she has changed her name again. Under that new name she is deliberately hiding herself away from you."
"It is false."
"It may be. It is but a surmise. But, as such, it is at least as much likely to be correct as yours."
"She is dead."
"You have not one jot or t.i.ttle of proof that she is anything of the kind."
"I will have proof." He brought down his fist upon my pretty, fragile table with a crash. "I will have proof."
"Don"t destroy the furniture."
"Furniture!" He glared at the inoffensive table as if he would have liked to have chopped it into firewood. "You should not anger me. I say that I will have proof. And I will have proof of who it is has murdered her. And I will find him, though he hides himself in the uttermost corners of the earth. And when I have found him I will have a quittance."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Do you not know what I mean? Have you known me so short a time that you should need to ask?"
"Do you mean that, if there is anything in these wild dreams of yours, you will kill the man who has killed your girl?"
He raised his hands above his head in a sort of paroxysm.
"Like a dog."
"Then let me tell you that you are treading the road which leads to the gallows. They manage things in their own way upon this side. Killing"s murder here. And the more excuse you think you have the tighter you"re likely to fit the rope about your neck."
"The hemp has not been sown which shall hang me on an English gallows.
Do you think I am afraid?"
He gave me the creeps. Although it surpa.s.sed my powers to adequately explain the thing, I knew that he had a trick of seeing things which had taken place before they became known to other people. I had had unpleasant experience of it more than once. One might begin by laughing at what he called his dreams and his visions, but, in the end, the laugh was apt to be upon the other side.
It was quite possible that his girl was dead. Young, pretty, simple, innocent, alone in a foreign land--what more possible? It was even possible that she had been done to death. Some one might think that no one would miss her. In that case, that some one might as well at once place himself in the hangman"s hands as wait to interview Jack Haines.
I was glad to be rid of him. He was not a cheerful companion at the best of times. But since he had got this bee in his bonnet he was more than I could stand.
In the afternoon I went to see Kate Levett. Kate and I had been together in Pfeinmann"s "King of the Castle Operatic Combination." We were friends all through. I fancy it was a case of "a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind"--after a fashion we were girls of a feather.
When the Combination came to eternal grief at Strikehigh City, we went different ways. I stayed where I was, Kate went East. It was at Boston she married Ferdinand Levett. He was touring at that time through the States as acting manager for a famous English comedy company. It was a case of marriage at first sight as it were. It proved to be the best thing Kate had ever done in her life. Levett turned out a regular trump, and they hit it off together to a T. Now they were settled in England, and, although Kate had kept off the boards, they were doing uncommonly well in a modest sort of a way.
When I turned up at their flat on the Thames Embankment, at the back of the Strand, Kate wanted me to stay and dine. So I stayed. After dinner we went to a theatre. Levett was at business--managing the Colosseum, so we went there. To finish up, we went back to supper at the flat.
I had gone originally to Kate with the idea of gleaning a little information. Before I left I had got all that I wanted, and, perhaps, a little more. What I wished to find out was whether Kate knew anything about a Mr. Reginald Townsend. She and her husband knew something about all sorts and conditions of men, and it struck me that my friend, the gentleman, was just the sort of man of whom one or the other of them might have heard.
I did not want to seem too anxious. So I just slipped my question in casually, as if I was indifferent whether I received an answer to it or not. I kept it till after supper. Kate was at the piano strumming through all the latest things in comic songs. I was lolling in a rocker, joining in the chorus whenever there was a chorus. Ferdinand was taking his ease upon a couch. We were all as snug as we could be.
Kate had been saying she knew somebody or other, I don"t know who, when I struck in.
"Between you, you two seem to know pretty nearly every one."
"Those whom we don"t know are not worth knowing."
"Quite right, my dear!"--this from Ferdinand, on the couch.
"Have you ever heard of a Mr. Townsend?"
"What!--Reggie Townsend?"
She spun round on the piano-stool like a catherine-wheel.