Three millions! or, The way of the world
to forget her own woe in seeking the safety of her brother. The doctor
was equally prudent, and did not betray his knowledge of the terrible
affair. He remained an hour, and then Ross returned to the Port with
him.
“You must be very cautious, Ross,” said Dr. Bilks, as they entered the
boat. “It might go hard with you, if this thing is found out.”
“It will be found out; it will be all over town by to-morrow morning,”
replied the murderer, indifferently.
“Not unless you tell of it. I will keep still, and I am sure Mary will.
She did not speak to me about it.”
“It cannot be covered up; I don’t care whether it is or not. If I have
done wrong, I am willing to suffer for it.”
“But think of Mary.”
“That is all that troubles me. If it wasn’t for her, I would go to the
deputy sheriff and give myself up. But it will all come out.”
“It need not. Only you and I know anything about it--except Mary.”
“Yes; there is another man who must know all about it.”
“Another!”
“There was somebody with Buckstone on the beach.”
“That’s bad; you didn’t tell me of this before.”
“I didn’t even think of it.”
“Who was the person?”
“I don’t know,” replied Ross, who seemed to feel no interest in this
part of this business. “I heard them talking.”
“Did you hear what they said?” demanded the doctor, sharply.
“I did hear something that was said, but not much. I didn’t expect the
villain was on the island then. I was going over to the Port to find
him. I got into my boat, and pulled out a little way; then I saw a boat
on the beach, and went back. I took the path over to the bluff, walking
on the grass, so as not to make a noise. When I got to the rocks above
the beach, I heard them talking.”
“What did they say?” asked the doctor, eagerly.
“I heard Buckstone say he intended to marry her, at first, and then
he did not. I didn’t want to hear any more. I went after a club
then; I found one; and when I came back, they were talking about a
consideration for marrying my sister. My God! how my blood boiled! I
moved forward then; Buckstone ran, and I followed him. I finished him,
and pitched him over into the channel.”
“But who was this other man?” asked the doctor, nervously.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yes; but it was dark.”
“Couldn’t you tell anything about him?”
“No; he was a man about your size.”
Dr. Bilks was startled.
“What did he wear?”
“He wore an overcoat; it was too dark to see anything.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. I saw him go down to the boat. I don’t know where he went.”
“Ross, did you let this man go without finding out who or what he was?”
demanded Dr. Bilks, impressively.
“I did not care anything about him.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know; after I had done my work, I went back to the house, and
didn’t even think of the other man.”
“You say this man was hiring Buckstone to marry your sister.”
“I didn’t say so.”
“Yes, you did; you spoke of a consideration.”
“I don’t know who offered it, or what it meant. It was all Greek to me.”
“Perhaps it was Mr. Hungerford,” suggested Dr. Bilks.
“No, it was not!” replied Ross, decidedly.
“How do you know?”
“Do you think he would bribe Buckstone to marry my sister?”
“He has plenty of money.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Perhaps he would. In my opinion, Ross, Mr. Hungerford was the man.”
“It was not! He is taller than this man.”
“It might have been Mr. Birch, acting for Hungerford.”
“It might have been; but I don’t believe it was.”
“I am satisfied that it was Mr. Birch. In fact, he told me that, as
soon as Mr. Hungerford came home, he should compel Buckstone to make
your sister an honest woman.”
“He told you so?”
“Yes; he acts from the best of motives, Ross. His only object was to
save your sister from disgrace.”
The boat had touched at the Port, and the conversation was interrupted.
Dr. Bilks seemed to be entirely satisfied that he had given a correct
solution of the problem in regard to the stranger on the island. Ross
was still sceptical. As the doctor walked up the street towards his
office, the boatman pulled back to the island.
Dr. Bilks entered his office. The bad case beyond the Port, which had
kept him up till two, as he had told Ross, and the case at the island,
which had then kept him up till four, had consumed nearly all the hours
of the night, and he must have been a very weary man. We must do him
the justice to say that he was tired on this occasion; that he even
looked haggard and pale. His bed was in the room in the rear of his
office; but exhausted as he was, he did not retire like a reasonable
man. Throwing himself into an arm-chair, he was soon buried in deep
thought. But a murder was an exciting event, and if his thoughts
related to this startling affair, it was worth his attention.
About sunrise he threw himself on the bed, but he did not sleep;
though, as it is certain he did not commit the murder on The Great
Bell, it was not the ghost of the dead man which haunted the chambers
of his soul. At eight o’clock his horse was brought to the door, as
usual, and the doctor started to visit his patients. He drove down to
the post office first, to receive his letters.
“Good morning, doctor,” said the postmaster. “Anything new this
morning?”
“I heard a startling rumor just now,” replied Dr. Bilks.
“Indeed! What was it?”
“They say a man was murdered over on The Great Bell last night. Whether
there is any truth in it or not, I don’t know.”
“A man murdered!”
“So they say. I don’t know anything about it.”
“Who was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who killed him?”
“I didn’t hear any particulars. Hadn’t you heard of it?”
Of course he had not; neither had Dr. Bilks heard of it. This was the
manner in which he kept silence, and endeavored to save Ross Kingman
from the consequences of his crime.
The doctor went from house to house, where he had patients, and
repeated the startling rumor. In a couple of hours there was not a man,
woman, or child at the Port who had not heard that a man had been
murdered on The Great Bell. The deputy sheriff, the constables, the
coroner, the selectmen heard of it; but the rumor was so confused now,
that no one could tell whence it originated.
The sheriff and the coroner went down to the island. They could find
no murdered man. But they went to the house of Captain Kingman. They
saw Ross, and asked him what he knew about the horrid affair. He knew
all about it, and believing the stranger on the beach--probably Mr.
Birch--had charged him with the crime, he was not willing to add even
a single falsehood to his guilt. Ross Kingman was too manly to lie,
though he could slay the betrayer of his suffering sister. He told the
whole truth, and conducted the sheriff and the coroner to the place
where the deed had been done. Ross was arrested, and conveyed to the
county jail.
Mary was almost stunned by this blow, though Ross had already taught
her to expect it. He told her that brothers and fathers, all over the
county, would applaud rather than condemn the deed, and that she need
have no fears for him. No jury would convict him. But the arrest had
come sooner than even Ross expected, and she was not prepared to have
him borne from her bedside so soon.
All the rest of that day men were dragging the channel, and searching
on the shores of the river, for the dead body of Eliot Buckstone.
Nothing was talked of in Poppleton but the murder. It was known that
Mary had been deserted by her husband as soon as she came home. Then
it was whispered that she had never been a wife. Evil-minded persons
laughed, but most of the people pitied Mary, and condemned the wretch
who had deceived her. They were prepared, therefore, for the final act
of the tragedy, and the voice that condemned Buckstone applauded Ross
Kingman. Many stout-hearted men declared that they would have done the
same in defence of a daughter’s or a sister’s honor, and that they
would level the jail to the ground rather than permit Ross to suffer
for what he had done.
But they were law-abiding men, deeply as their feelings were stirred by
the wrongs of Mary; and after all, the people, in the persons of the
twelve jurymen, were to decide whether Ross was “guilty or not guilty.”
CHAPTER XII.
DICK BIRCH.
If Ross Kingman was not the calmest man in Poppleton on the morning
following the murder of Eliot Buckstone, it was only because Mary was
a sufferer by his act of retribution. She seemed to be better as the
morning advanced. She nerved herself to bear everything, though it was
terrible to have her brother borne from her presence on such a grave
charge, to spend weeks or months in a cell of the common jail. She
suffered, but she endeavored to endure all her woes with patience and
resignation; and when Ross left her, she had become the comforter, and
spoke words of consolation and hope to him. For his sake she was calm
and gentle.
Though from the first Ross had not intended to conceal what he had
done, yet in Mary’s feeble condition, he did not mean to proclaim his
guilt. But in the morning, when she was able to come down stairs, he
was better prepared for the arrest, than if she had lain helpless on
her bed.
He asked the sheriff who had given the information of the murder of
Buckstone. The officer did not know; it had passed from mouth to mouth,
and the author of the story could not be identified. Ross did not
suspect Dr. Bilks, but concluded that the person who had been with the
deceased had started the rumor. It did not yet appear who this person
was; but the fact that Buckstone had a companion at the time of the
murder was soon added to the sum total of the information concerning
the event, and circulated through the Port. Ross freely told all he
knew of the circumstances.
Eugene Hungerford rose early that morning, and walked through the Pine
Hill grounds. The improvements had all been made in accordance with the
plans, and though he ought to have been delighted with the appearance
of the place, he was as devoid of enthusiasm in the presence of his
realized ideal as though he had no part or lot in it. He was still
thinking of Mary, and considering the plan by which her wounds were to
be healed. After breakfast he was closeted in the office with Dick, who
insisted that he should examine his papers and accounts. Eugene glanced
at the balance in the Poppleton Bank, and at the total of his agent’s
expenditures during his absence. He manifested no interest in the model
houses, and as soon as possible changed the topic to the one which had
occupied his thoughts all the morning. At eleven o’clock, when Dr.
Bilks drove up to the door, they were still engaged in discussing this
interesting question.
Dr. Bilks was admitted at once, and duly introduced to Eugene, who had
already been informed of the doctor’s kindness and care for poor Mary
during her illness. There was no better passport to the favor of the
disappointed lover than acts of this description.
“And how is your patient now, Dr. Bilks?” asked Eugene, after he had
cordially greeted the physician.
“She was not so well when I visited her this morning,” replied the
doctor, in a subdued and rather embarrassed tone, as though he was not
willing to tell the whole truth at once.
“Is she worse?” demanded Eugene.
“Not absolutely worse; but she was in a state of high nervous
excitement,” added Dr. Bilks, looking with apparent interest and
sympathy at Eugene. “Of course you must have heard what happened on The
Great Bell last night.”
“No; what was it?” asked Eugene, in breathless anxiety.
It may seem strange that, at this hour, he had not heard what had
happened on The Great Bell; but, as Pine Hill was a mile from the Port,