However, all readers - sooner or later - find for themselves a literary genre that is fundamentally different from all others. Hand and Ring by Anna Katharine Green (good book club books TXT) 📖
- Author: Anna Katharine Green
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Subduing, by a strong inward effort, every token of the emotion which her own introduction of this topic naturally evoked, he replied in his easiest tones:
"Yes; there was an inquest held to-day, and the authorities evidently think they have discovered the person who killed her." And obliging himself to meet half-way the fate that awaited him, he bestowed upon the lady before him a casual glance that hid beneath its easy politeness the greatest anxiety of his life.
The test worked well. From the pallor of sickness, grief, or apprehension, her complexion whitened to the deadlier hue of mortal terror.
"Impossible!" her lips seemed to breathe; and Mr. Byrd could almost fancy he saw the hair rise on her forehead.
Cursing in his heart the bitter necessity that had forced him into this duty, he was about to address her in a way calculated to break the spell occasioned by his last words, when the rich and tuneful voice of the melodious singer rose suddenly on the air, and they heard the words:
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;
Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last."
Instantly Mr. Byrd perceived that he should not be obliged to speak. Though the music, or possibly the words, struck her like a blow, it likewise served to recall her to herself. Dropping her gaze, which had remained fixed upon his own, she turned her face aside, saying with forced composure:
"This near contact with crime is dreadful." Then slowly, and with a quietness that showed how great was her power of self-control when she was not under the influence of surprise, she inquired: "And who do they think this person is? What name do they presume to associate with the murderer of this woman?"
With something of the feeling of a surgeon who nerves himself to bury the steel in his patient's quivering flesh, he gave his response unhesitatingly.
"A gentleman's, I believe. A young man connected with her, in some strange way, by financial interests. A Mr. Hildreth, of Toledo—Gouverneur Hildreth, I think they call him."
It was not the name she expected. He saw this by the relaxation that took place in all her features, by the look of almost painful relief that flashed for a moment into the eyes she turned like lightning upon him.
"Gouverneur Hildreth!" she repeated. And he knew from the tone that it was not only a different name from what she anticipated, but that it was also a strange one to her. "I never heard of such a person," she went on after a minute, during which the relentless mellow voice of the unconscious singer filled the room with the passionate appeal:
Through joy and through sorrow, through glory and shame!"
"That is not strange," explained Mr. Byrd, drawing nearer, as if to escape that pursuing sweetness of incongruous song. "He is not known in this town. He only came here the morning the unfortunate woman was murdered. Whether he really killed her or not," he proceeded, with forced quietness, "no one can tell, of course. But the facts are very much against him, and the poor fellow is under arrest."
"What?"
The word was involuntary. So was the tone of horrified surprise in which it was uttered. But the music, now swelling to a crescendo, drowned both word and tone, or so she seemed to fondly imagine; for, making another effort at self-control, she confined herself to a quiet repetition of his words, "'Under arrest'?" and then waited with only a suitable display of emotion for whatever further enlightenment he chose to give her.
He mercifully spoke to the point.
"Yes, under arrest. You see he was in the house at or near the time the deadly blow was struck. He was in the front hall, he says, and nowhere near the woman or her unknown assailant, but there is no evidence against any one else, and the facts so far proved, show he had an interest in her death, and so he has to pay the penalty of circumstances. And he may be guilty, who knows," the young detective pursued, seeing she was struck with horror and dismay, "dreadful as it is to imagine that a gentleman of culture and breeding could be brought to commit such a deed."
But she seemed to have ears for but one phrase of all this.
"He was in the front hall," she repeated. "How did he get there? What called him there?"
"He had been visiting the widow, and was on his way out. He paused to collect his thoughts, he said. It seems unaccountable, Miss Dare; but the whole thing is strange and very mysterious."
She was deaf to his explanations.
"Do you suppose he heard the widow scream?" she asked, tremblingly, "or——"
A sinking of the ringing tones whose powerful vibration had made this conversation possible, caused her to pause. When the notes grew loud enough again for her to proceed, she seemed to have forgotten the question she was about to propound, and simply inquired:
"Had he any thing to say about what he overheard—or saw?"
"No. If he spoke the truth and stood in the hall as he said, the sounds, if sounds there were, stopped short of the sitting-room door, for he has nothing to say about them."
A change passed over Miss Dare. She dropped her eyes, and an instant's pause followed this last acknowledgment.
"Will you tell me," she inquired, at last, speaking very slowly, in an attempt to infuse into her voice no more than a natural tone of interest, "how it was he came to say he stood in that place during the assault?"
"He did not say he stood in that place during the assault," was again the forced rejoinder of Mr. Byrd. "It was by means of a nice calculation of time and events, that it was found he must have been in the house at or near the fatal moment."
Another pause; another bar of that lovely music.
"And he is a gentleman, you say?" was her hurried remark at last.
"Yes, and a very handsome one."
"And they have put him in prison?"
"Yes, or will on the morrow."
She turned and leaned against a window-frame near by, looking with eyes that saw nothing into the still vast night.
"I suppose he has friends," she faintly suggested.
"Two sisters, if no one nearer and dearer."
And thy angel I 'll be, 'mid the horrors of this—
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,
And shield thee, and save thee—or perish there too,"
"I am not well," she suddenly cried, leaving the window and turning quickly toward Mr. Byrd. "I am much obliged to you," said she, lowering her voice to a whisper, for the last note of the song was dying away in a quivering pianissimo. "I have been deeply interested in this tragedy, and am thankful for any information in regard to it. I must now bid you good-evening."
And with a stately bow into which she infused the mingled courtesy and haughtiness of her nature, she walked steadily away through the crowd that vainly sought to stay her, and disappeared, almost without a pause, behind the door that opened into the hall.
Mr. Byrd remained for a full half-hour after that, but he never could tell what he did, or with whom he conversed, or how or when he issued from the house and made his way back to his room in the hotel. He only knew that at midnight he was still walking the floor, and had not yet made up his mind to take the step which his own sense of duty now inexorably demanded.
XI. DECISION.To say that he alone has found the truth.
"I have come," said the detective, "to ask you what you think of Mr. Hildreth's prospects. Have you made up your mind to have him arrested for this crime?"
"Yes," was the reply. "The evidence against him is purely circumstantial, but it is very strong; and if no fresh developments occur, I think there can be no doubt about my duty. Each and every fact that comes to light only strengthens the case against him. When he came to be examined last night, a ring was found on his person, which he acknowledged to having worn on the day of the murder."
"He took it off during the inquest," murmured Mr. Byrd; "I saw him."
"It is said by Hickory—the somewhat questionable cognomen of your fellow-detective from New York—that the young man manifested the most intense uneasiness during the whole inquiry. That in fact his attention was first drawn to him by the many tokens which he gave of suppressed agitation and alarm. Indeed, Mr. Hickory at one time thought he should be obliged to speak to this stranger in order to prevent a scene. Once Mr. Hildreth got up as if to go, and, indeed, if he had been less hemmed in by the crowd, there is every reason to believe he would have attempted an escape."
"Is this Hickory a man of good judgment?" inquired Mr. Byrd, anxiously.
"Why, yes, I should say so. He seems to understand his business. The way he procured us the testimony of Mr. Hildreth was certainly satisfactory."
"I wish that, without his knowing it, I could hear him give his opinion of this matter," intimated the other.
"Well, you can," rejoined Mr. Ferris, after a quick and comprehensive survey of Mr. Byrd's countenance. "I am expecting him here any moment, and if you see fit to sit down behind that screen, you can, without the least difficulty to yourself or him, hear all he has to impart."
"I will, then," the detective declared, a gloomy frown suddenly corrugating his brow; and he stepped across to the screen which had been indicated to him, and quietly withdrew from view.
He had scarcely done this, when a short, quick step was heard at the door, and a wide-awake voice called out, cheerily:
"Are you alone, sir?"
"Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Ferris, "come in, come in. I have been awaiting you for some minutes," he declared, ignoring the look which the man threw hastily around the room. "Any news this morning?"
"No," returned the other, in a tone of complete self-satisfaction. "We've caged the bird and mustn't expect much more in the way of news. I'm on my way to Albany now, to pick up such facts about him as may be lying around there loose, and shall be ready to start for Toledo any day next week that you may think proper."
"You are, then, convinced that Mr. Hildreth is undeniably the guilty party in this case?" exclaimed the District Attorney, taking a whiff at his cigar.
"Convinced? That is a strong word, sir. A detective is never convinced," protested the man. "He leaves that for the judge and jury. But if you ask me if there is any doubt about the direction in which all the circumstantial evidence in this case points, I must retort by asking you for a clue, or the tag-end of a clue, guiding me elsewhere. I know," he went on, with the volubility of a man whose work is done, and who feels he has the right to a momentary indulgence in conversation, "that it is not an agreeable thing to subject a gentleman like Mr. Hildreth to the shame of a public arrest. But facts are not partial, sir; and the gentleman has no more rights in law than the coarsest fellow that we take up for
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