The Darrow Enigma by Melvin L. Severy (best fiction novels of all time TXT) 📖
- Author: Melvin L. Severy
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would if here, and to comply with many tedious formalities before
the government would allow Ragobah to be brought to this country for
trial. The only reply Gwen vouchsafed to this statement was a
long-drawn unconscious sigh, which I interpreted as meaning, “Will
it never end!”
He who shakes the tree of Vengeance but harvests apples of Sodom
in whose fruit of ashes he becomes buried, for the wage of the
sinner is death.
There was no doubt of Ragobah’s guilt in any of our minds, so that
action at our end of the line seemed entirely useless, and nothing
was left us but to quietly await whatever developments Maitland
should disclose. We were not kept long in suspense, for in less than
a week his next letter arrived. I broke its seal in the presence of
Gwen and my sister who, if possible, were even more excited than I
myself. Is it to be wondered at? Here was the letter which was to
tell us whether or not the murderer of John Darrow had been caught.
We felt that if Ragobah had returned to India, according to his
expressed intention, there could be no doubt upon this point. But
had he so returned? I read as follows:
MY DEAR DOCTOR:
The Dalmatia arrived as expected on Thursday, and on her came Ragobah.
I had him arrested as he stepped from the boat. When examined he
did not seem in the least disconcerted at the charges I preferred
against him. This did not surprise me, however, as I had expected
that a man who could roll his naked body over the burning sands from
Mabaj an to the Ganges, and who could rise from the Vaisyan to the
Brahman caste, - albeit he fell again, - would not be likely to betray
his cause by exhibiting either fear or excitement. He acknowledged
his acquaintance with Mr. Darrow and the ill-feeling existing between
them. When charged with his murder at Dorchester on the night of the
22d of April he coolly asked if I were aware when and how he had left
India. I had not neglected to look this matter up and told him he had
left on the same steamer which had brought him back - the Dalmatia -=20
which should have arrived at New York on the 21st of April, thus
leaving him ample time to get to Boston before the night of the 22d.
To this he replied with the utmost assurance. (I give you the exact
gist of what he said. Since I was not able to immediately commit his
language to writing, you will, of course, hardiy expect me to remember
those peculiar Oriental idioms which an Indian, however great his
command of English, never drops. What I say here is, of course, true
of all conversations I put before you except such as I practically
reported.) - But to return to our muttons. As I was saying, he
replied with the utmost assurance:
“The Sahib is right. I did sail upon the Dalmatia, due at New York
on the 21st of April. This steamer, as you are perhaps aware, is
propelled by twin screws. On the trip in question she broke one
of her propellers in mid-Atlantic and in consequence, arrived in New
York on the 24th of April, three days late, without the transference
of any of her passengers to other boats. If you will take the
trouble to at once verify this statement at the steamship office,
you will be able to relieve me of the annoyance of further detention.”
All this was said with a rare command of language and a cold, cynical
politeness which cut like a knife. I at first thought it was merely
a ruse to gain time, but the steamship officials substantiated every
word uttered by Ragobah relative to their vessel. The Dalmatia had
steamed into New York at eleven o’clock on the morning of the 24th
day of April with a broken screw!
Imagine my amazement! The net of circumstantial evidence wound
around Ragobah seemed to be such as to leave no possibility of
escape, and yet, the very first effort made to draw it tighter about
him had resulted in his walking, with the utmost ease, right through
its meshes! There is no gainsaying such an alibi, and I am,
therefore, forced to acknowledge that Rama Ragobah could not, by any
possibility, have murdered John Darrow. That he may have planned
the deed and that he may have intended to be present at its execution
is quite possible, but we may at once dismiss the idea of his having
personally committed the act. You will immediately appreciate that
nearly all of the evidence which we secured against Ragobah was
directed against him as the assassin, and is of little or no use to
prove his complicity in an affair committed by another. In his
hatred of Mr. Darrow we have, I believe, a sufficient motive for
the act, but what evidence have we to support the theory that the
murder was committed by anyone acting in his interests? I must
confess my inability to detect, at present writing, the slightest
evidence that Ragobah acted through an accomplice. So, here the
matter rests.
I may state in closing that Ragobah has requested the “pleasure”
(sic) of a private interview with me on Malabar Hill to-morrow
night. As there is a bare possibility he may let fall something
which may shed some light upon the accomplice hypothesis, I have
agreed to meet him at the entrance to the little cave at nine
o’clock. He has requested that I come (alone and I shall do so,
but, lest you fear for my safety, let me assure you that I know
very well the unscrupulous nature of the man with whom I am to
deal and that I shall take good care not to afford him any
opportunity to catch me unawares. You will hear from me again
after I meet Ragobah.
Remember me kindly to Miss Darrow. The failure of my enterprise
will, I know, be a bitter disappointment to her, and you must temper
this acknowledgment of it with such a hope of ultimate success as
you may enjoy. Tell her I shall never cease my efforts to solve
this mystery so long as I am able to find a clue, however slight,
to follow. At present I am all at sea, and it looks as if I should
have to go clear back and start all over again. Ragobah, as a
point of departure, has not proved a success. With my kind regards
to you all,
I remain, cordially yours,
GEORGE MAITLAND.
I read this through aloud, despite the fact that I knew some parts
of it were intended only for my perusal. Gwen did not speak until
some minutes after I had finished, and then only to express a fear
that, despite his caution, harm might come to Maitland at his
interview with Ragobah. She seemed to be far less disappointed at
Maitland’s failure to convict Ragobah than she was fearful for her
friend’s personal safety. She was restless and ill at ease for the
next two or three days - in fact, until the arrival of Maitland’s
next letter. This came during my absence on a professional call,
and when I returned home she met me with it at the door with an
expression of relief upon her countenance so plain as not to be
misconstrued. We went into the sitting-room, where my sister was
awaiting the news, and I read as follows:
MY DEAR DOCTOR:
I kept my appointment last night with Rama Ragobah and, although
nothing transpired at all likely to assist me in locating Mr.
Darrow’s assassin, yet the interview, though short, was interesting
and worth narrating. Promptly at nine o’clock I was at my post by
the little cave. I am still staying with Herr Blaschek and, as I
had but a few rods to travel, I did not quit the house until within
five minutes of the time appointed for our meeting. As I stepped
out into the darkness I noticed a tall form glide behind a tree,
about a rod away from the door. I could not be sure it was Ragobah,
yet I had little doubt of it. I was a trifle taken aback at the
moment, and instinctively placed my hand upon my revolver and
grasped my cane more firmly. Should occasion require it, I counted
upon this cane quite as much as upon my revolver, for, innocent and
inoffensive as it looked, it was capable of most deadly execution.
I had chosen it in preference to many other more pretentious weapons
which had suggested themselves to me. It consisted of a small,
flexible steel wire hardly bigger than the blade of a foil,
surmounted by a good-sized lead ball, and the whole covered with a
closely woven fabric. By grasping the cane by its lower end a
tremendously heavy blow could be struck with the ball, and, if an
attempt were made to shield the head by throwing up the arm, it
was almost certain to fail of its object since the flexibility of
the wire permitted it to bend about an obstruction until its loaded
end was brought home. You will perhaps think that, since I did not
make use of this weapon, I need not have troubled myself to describe
it. Perhaps that is so, but, let me assure you, when I saw Ragobah,
for it was he, glide behind that tree, and reflected how capable he
was of every kind of treachery, I wouldn’t have parted with that
cane for its weight in gold. The Indian had pledged me to come
alone and had promised to do likewise, but I felt any tree might
conceal one of his minions, hired to assassinate me while he engaged
my attention. All this, of course, did not in the least affect my
decision. I had promised to go alone, and Miss Darrow’s interests
required - that I should keep my covenant. I should have done so,
even though I had known Ragobah meant to betray me. I may as well,
however, tell you at once that my suspicions wronged the fellow.
He had evidently taken his station behind a tree to satisfy himself,
without exposure, that I meant to keep my promise and come alone.
When I reached the cave I found him awaiting me. How he was able
to get there before me passes my comprehension, but there he was.
He did not waste time, but addressed me at once, and, as my memory
is excellent and our interview was short, I am able to give you an
accurate report of what passed between us. I copy it here just as
I entered it in my notebook, immediately upon my return to the house.
“You naturally wish to know,” Ragobah began, “why I have sought this
interview. That is easily explained. You have done me the honour,
Sahib, for I feel it is such, to suspect me of the murder of John
Darrow. You have come here from America to fasten the crime upon
me, and, from the bottom of my heart, I regret your failure to do
so. I would give everything I possess on earth, and would gladly
suffer a life of torment, to be able truthfully to say: ‘I, Rama
Ragobah, killed John Darrow.’ But despite all my efforts, I, wretch
that I am, am innocent! For more than twenty years I have had but
one purpose, - one thought, - and that was to track down and slay
John Darrow. This desire consumed me. It led me all over India
in vain search for him. For nineteen years-I laboured incessantly,
without discovering so
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