The Darrow Enigma by Melvin L. Severy (best fiction novels of all time TXT) 📖
- Author: Melvin L. Severy
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his belongings went inland, so I was told. I believed the story
and felt sure I should one day find him on Indian soil. Years
passed and I did not find him. It was but a few months ago that
I discovered his ruse and learned his whereabouts. I could scarcely
contain myself for joy. My life-work was at last to be completed.
Nothing now remained but to plan his destruction. This, however,
was not so easy a thing to do, since, in order to make my revenge
complete, I must disclose my identity before killing him. At
length I decided upon a plan. I would come upon him at night, when
asleep, gag him and bind him to his bed. Then he should learn the
name of his doomsman, and the horrible nature of the death that
awaited him.”
Ragobah paused here as if overcome by his disappointment, and I
said, “And how did you intend to kill him?” He gave a throaty
chuckle, as he replied: “It was all so very pretty! I had only to
saturate the bedclothes with oil and set fire to them. I should
have lighted them at his feet and watched the flames creep upward
toward his head till safety compelled my retreat. It was for this
purpose I went to New York. You already know the fatal delay I
incurred. When I landed I made all haste to the home of Darrow
Sahib, in Dorchester, only to learn that he had killed himself a
few days before my arrival. The morsel for which I had striven and
hungered for twenty long years was whipped from my hand, even as I
raised it to my mouth. My enemy was dead, beyond the power of
injury, and my hands were unstained by his blood.
“I then determined to kill his daughter. It was the night of my
enemy’s burial. The Sahibah was alone in the house and was intending
to leave it that night. I knew she would see that everything was
securely fastened before she went away, and so, when I opened one
of the windows, I was sure she would come to close it. Crouching
down outside I awaited her approach, intending to spring up and stab
her while she was pulling the window down. Everything happened as
I planned - what ails the Sahib? I did not kill her! No, at the
last moment something - never mind what - stayed my arm! The death
of an innocent girl did not promise me any lasting satisfaction and
I gave up the idea, returned to New York, and re-embarked for Bombay
as innocent in act as when I left it. My life had been a failure
and I had no desire to prolong it. When you arrested me on the
charge of murder, nothing would have given me greater pleasure than
to have been able to plead guilty.
“You already know why I so hated Darrow. He robbed me of the only
woman I ever loved. Maddened by jealousy, I told her I had thrown
him into the well in the cave here. It was a lie, but she believed
it, and fled from me, and in a few minutes had thrown herself into
that bottomless hole. See, Sahib,” he said, entering the cave and
pointing down the dark shaft, - “that is the road she took in order
that her bones might rest with his, and, after all, they are
thousands of miles apart. It’s not the triumph I planned, but it’s
all I have! And this is why I brought you here; that you may take
back to my enemy’s family the knowledge that in death I am triumphant.
Tell them,” he said, rising to his full height, “that while the
carcass of the English cur rots in a foreign land, Rama Ragobah’s
bones lie mingled with those of his beautiful Lona!” - My blood
was up, and I rushed fiercely at him. With the quickness of a cat
he dodged me, spat in my face as I turned, and, with a horrible
laugh, sprang headlong into the well. Down deeper and deeper sank
the laugh - then it died away - then a faint plash - and all was
silent. Rama Ragobah was gone! For fully ten minutes I stood
dazed and irresolute and then returned mechanically to the house.
I at first thought of informing the authorities of the whole
affair, but, when I realised how hard it would be for me to prove
my innocence were I charged with Ragobah’s murder, I decided to keep
the secret of the well.
I shudder when I think of Miss Darrow’s narrow escape. Did you
suspect who her assailant really was? I wonder you have written me
nothing about it, but suppose you thought it would only needlessly
alarm me. If you had known it was our friend Ragobah, you would
doubtless have felt it imperative that I should know of it, - so I
conclude from your silence that you did not discover his identity.
I need not, of course, tell you, my dear Doctor, that we have
reached the end of our Indian clue, and that I deem it wise, all
things considered, for me to get out of India just as soon as
possible. If this letter is in any way delayed, you need not be
surprised if I have the pleasure of relating its contents in person.
Remember me to Miss Darrow and tell her how sorry I am that, thus
far, I have been unable to be of any real service to her. As I
shall see you so soon I need write nothing further. Kind regards
to Miss Alice.
Ever yours,
GEORGE MAITLAND.
When I had finished reading this letter I looked up at Gwen,
expecting to see that its news had depressed her. I must confess,
however, that I could not detect any such effect. On the contrary,
she seemed to be in much better spirits than when I began reading.
“According to this letter, then,” she said, addressing me somewhat
excitedly, “we may - ” but she let fall her eyes and did not complete
her sentence. My sister bestowed upon her one of those glances
described in the vernacular of woman as “knowing” and then said to
me: “We may expect Mr. Maitland at any time, it seems.” “Yes,” I
replied; “he will lose no time in getting here. He undoubtedly feels
much chagrined at his failure and will now be more than ever
determined to see the affair through to a successful conclusion. He
is in the position of a hound that has lost its scent, and is eager
to return to its point of departure for a fresh start. I fancy it
will be no easy task to discover a new clue, and I shall watch
Maitland’s work in this direction with a great deal of curiosity.”
Gwen did not speak, but she listened to our conversation with a
nearer approach to a healthy interest than I had known her to display
on any other occasion since her father’s death. I regarded this as
a good omen. Her condition, since that sad occurrence, had worried
me a good deal. She seemed to have lost her hold on life and to
exist in a state of wearied listlessness. Nothing seemed to impress
her and she would at times forget, in the midst of a sentence, what
she had intended to say when she began it! Her elasticity was gone
and every effort a visible burden to her. I knew the consciousness
of her loss was as a dull, heavy weight bearing her down, and I knew,
too, that she could not marshal her will to resist it, - that, in
fact, she really didn’t care, so tired was she of it all. Experience
had taught me how the dull, heavy ache of a great loss will press
upon the consciousness with the regular, persistent, relentless
throb of a loaded wheel and eat out one’s life with the slow
certainty of a cancer. This I knew to have been Gwen’s state since
her father’s death, and all my attempts to bring about a healthful
reaction had hitherto been futile. It is not to be wondered at,
therefore, that even the transient interest she had evinced was
hailed by me with delight as the beginning of that healthful
reaction for which I had so long sought. When a human bark in the
full tide of life is suddenly dashed upon the rocks of despair the
wreckage is strewn far and wide, and it is with no little difficulty
that enough can be rescued to serve in the rebuilding of even the
smallest of craft. The thought, therefore, that Gwen’s intellectual
flotsam was beginning at length to swirl about a definite object in
a way to facilitate the rescue of her faculties was to me a
decidedly reassuring one, and I noted with pleasure that the state
of excited expectancy which she had tried in vain to conceal did not
wane, but waxed stronger as the days went by.
THE EPISODE OF THE PARALLEL READERS
The events of the present are all strung upon the thread of the
past, and in telling over this chronological rosary, it not
infrequently happens that strange, unlike beads follow each other
between our questioning fingers.
It was nearly a week after his letter before Maitland arrived. He
sent us no further word, but walked in one evening as we were talking
about him. He came upon us so suddenly that we were all taken
aback and, for a moment, I felt somewhat alarmed about Gwen. She
had started up quickly when the servant had mentioned Maitland’s
name and pressed her hand convulsively upon her heart, while her
face and neck became of a deep crimson colour. I was saying to
myself that this was a common effect of sudden surprise, when I saw
her clutch quickly at the back of her chair, as if to steady herself.
A moment later she sank into her seat. Her face was now as pale as
ashes, and I felt I had good reason to be alarmed. I think she was
conscious of my scrutiny, for she turned her face from me and
remained motionless. The movement told me she was trying to regain
command of her faculties and I forbore to interfere in the struggle,
though I watched her with some solicitude.=20 My fears were at once
dispelled, however, when Maitland entered, for Gwen was the first
to welcome him. She extended her hand with much of her old
impulsiveness, saying: “I have so much for which to thank you - “
but Maitland interrupted her. “Indeed, I regret to say,” he
rejoined, “that I have been unable thus far to be of any real service
to you. The Ragobah clue was a miserable failure, though we may do
ourselves the justice to admit that we had no alternative but to
follow it to the end. I confess I have never been more disappointed
than in the outcome of this affair.?” “My dear fellow,” I said,
“we all have much to be thankful for in your safe return, let us
not forget that.” Maitland laughed: “That reminds me,” he said,
“of the man who passed the hat at a coloured camp-meeting. When
asked how much he had collected, he replied: ‘I didn’t get no money,
but I’se done got de hat back.’ You’ve got your hat back, and that’s
about all. However, with Miss Darrow’s permission, I shall go back
to the starting point and begin all over again.”
“You are making me your debtor,” Gwen replied slowly, “beyond my
power ever to repay you.”
“It is in the hope that no payment may ever
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