Three millions! or, The way of the world
“Did you go out again?”
“I did not.”
The handkerchief and cigar were handed to him, and he identified them
as his own.
“You heard the testimony of the deputy sheriff. These articles were
found in the boat, which must have been the one in which Buckstone and
the other person went over to the island. You say they are yours.”
“I do--they are mine.”
“How came they in the boat?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can’t you explain this singular circumstance, Mr. Birch?”
“I cannot; perhaps Dr. Bilks, who went down upon the Point that night,
can.”
The doctor looked like an injured man, and there was a suppressed
chuckle all over the court-room at his expense.
“I am afraid these articles, in their assumed relations, are as
unsubstantial as Dr. Bilks’s baby,” said Mr. Darling.
The doctor had the good sense to appreciate this palpable joke, though
his smile was rather ghastly and unreal.
Mr. Lowe pressed the witness to the utmost; but he steadily and firmly
denied that he had visited the island with Buckstone, or that he had
seen him since his assumed marriage. He tried him on every tack his
ingenuity could suggest; but Dick did not vary the breadth of a hair in
his statements, and the attorney was compelled to give up in despair.
“Truth is mighty, and must prevail.” Truth was Dick’s god, and his
devotion was so sincere, that it impressed itself upon all who heard
him. It is doubtful if there was a single person in the court-room who
did not believe every word he said. There is that in the truth which
conquers interest and prejudice; and he who adheres to it cannot help
manifesting himself to all who hear him.
Dick Birch was not on the island that night. He had not seen Buckstone
for nearly a year. Eugene Hungerford scorned himself for the doubts
which had grieved his friend; but they were only momentary doubts. This
was Eugene’s triumph. He rejoiced in it, even while he was annoyed and
disgusted by the heartless exhibition of his family relations.
Other witnesses were examined, and Ross Kingman was fully committed to
await the action of the grand jury. No one expected any other result;
indeed, Mr. Darling intended to waive the examination, and would have
done so, if Dick had not protested so strongly against such a course;
for he desired the privilege of cross-examining Dr. Bilks. Of course he
had a theory, but it had not appeared at the examination.
Ross Kingman was borne away to the jail again, and the curious crowd
followed the officers out of the court-room. Eugene remained, anxious
to take Dick by the hand, and have every dark shadow removed from his
path. Dr. Bilks took charge of Mary Kingman, and conducted her to his
chaise.
“Dick,” said Eugene, as soon as the lawyer was disengaged.
“Ah, Hungerford!”
“You have made me ashamed of myself.”
“Don’t mention it. I don’t blame you.”
“If I had a doubt, it was only for a moment. I never had a real,
substantial doubt--certainly not a suspicion--of you, Dick.”
“But I am more under the shadow than ever before.”
“Not with me--not with anybody. My dear fellow, will you forgive me?”
“With all my heart--there is nothing to forgive.”
“Dick, you are all--you are more to me than ever before. I believe
every word you have said. Come, go home with me, and----”
“I cannot do that, Hungerford.”
“Why not?”
“You heard what was dragged out of me.”
“What of that?”
“I have acknowledged the two reasons which induced me to propose the
plan for Mary’s marriage to Buckstone. One was for her sake; the other
still leaves me open to the charge of acting from interested motives.”
“Dick, you never had a selfish thought in your relations with me. I
believe in you as I would in my own mother.”
“Enough, Hungerford!” exclaimed Dick, grasping his hand. “If there has
been any breach, it is healed.”
“Good! that sounds like you, old fellow!”
“I have never wronged you or yours, Hungerford, in word or thought.”
“I know it,” said Eugene, warmly.
“If you had turned me out of your house, I would still have served you,
and thought kindly of you.”
“I have never thought unkindly of you for a moment, Dick. We are the
same now as ever; so come home with me, and we will talk this matter
over.”
“No, Hungerford, I cannot do that.”
“Why not?”
“I should not dare to look Julia in the face after this exposure of my
thoughts. I cannot go, Hungerford, and I will not.”
“This is obstinacy.”
“I can’t help it. She must not even think that I have mercenary
motives; and she can’t help thinking it now. I will not go, Hungerford;
I will not even see her.”
“But you punish her more than yourself.”
“I think not.”
“Why should you punish her, or yourself?”
“It cannot be helped. My self-respect will not permit me to go into her
presence with such an infernal suspicion attached to me.”
This was entirely a matter of feeling with Dick, and he could not be
moved from his position. Eugene unwillingly assented to his view for
the present.
“Now, where is Mary?” asked Dick.
“She has gone back to Poppleton, with Dr. Bilks.”
“With Dr. Bilks!” exclaimed the lawyer, with something like contempt in
his words and looks. “But I must leave you now, Hungerford. You can see
Ross if you like.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Poppleton.”
“We will go together.”
“I do not go direct,” replied Dick. “I shall return by the way of the
Point.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to look for Dr. Bilks’s baby. I am determined that this
baby shall be named after the doctor.”
“Dick, what does all this mean?” demanded Eugene.
“I can’t stop to explain now, Hungerford. I must find that baby before
Dr. Bilks has time to do so.”
“I will go with you.”
“Very well.”
There was a great deal of laughing and sly joking about Dr. Bilks’s
baby, in the vicinity of the court-house, and the expression was
destined to become a by-word throughout the county, though as yet no
one knew what it meant. Hungerford had ridden over to Summerville in
his buggy, and while Dick went for the team, Eugene paid a brief visit
to Ross in his cell. He spoke words of comfort and consolation to him,
and promised to provide the best lawyer in the state for his defence
when the trial took place. Ross was cheerful, and had no fears, except
in relation to Mary; but Eugene told him that Julia had spent the
afternoon of the previous day with her, and assured him she should not
want for friends.
Dick came with the team, and Hungerford took leave of the prisoner,
promising to see him frequently. The relations between our “Damon
and Pythias” were now fully and completely restored. If possible,
the sympathy and confidence of each were increased, though Dick was
still firm in his purpose not to visit Pine Hill, or see Julia for the
present.
“Now, Dick, what induced you to grind Dr. Bilks so unmercifully when he
was on the stand?” asked Hungerford, as he drove away from the jail.
“Before I answer the question, what was your impression of him?”
“If it had been any other man, I should have said he was lying.”
“But, as it was Dr. Bilks, you think he was not lying.”
“On the contrary, I think he was, though I should not care to say so of
him in so many words.”
“I think that was the general impression,” replied Dick, quietly.
“In a word, you meant to make it appear that the baby was a myth?”
“Precisely so. He was not called from his office at eleven o’clock; he
was not in his office at eleven o’clock; he did not go to any house
beyond the Point; and no baby was born under his charge that night.”
“You are very positive.”
“No, I am not; in fact, I know nothing at all about the business,
except that which I derived from what the doctor did say, and what he
didn’t say. In a word, I know no more of where he was, or what he was
about, at the time mentioned, than you do.”
“But you certainly had some reason for driving him to the wall as you
did; of twisting him down till the cold sweat ran out of him.”
“I did have a reason. When I went into your library last night, and
found you there with Dr. Bilks, I knew, before you told me, of what you
had been speaking. He suggested things to you of which you would never
have thought without help. I didn’t like the looks of Dr. Bilks last
night. He seemed to be stepping between you and me. He had a hang-dog
look that was suspicious.”
“I didn’t notice it.”
“I saw him wince once or twice, when certain things were said. This
forenoon I went to see Ross. It was Dr. Bilks who gave him the idea
that I was the person on the island with Buckstone.”
“But after what you had said to him, it was not strange that he should
think so.”
“It was strange to me.”
“But he mentioned my name to Ross first.”
“Perhaps I wrong him; but I did suspect that all was not right. I can
hardly tell what it was that first made me suspicious. It was his
general appearance, rather than any particular thing. The handkerchief
and the cigar expanded my vision a little. Dr. Bilks smokes my
cigars, and I have spent hours in his office. I may have dropped my
handkerchief there. At any rate, my theory was, that the doctor put the
handkerchief and cigar into the boat.”
“Why should he do so?”
“I don’t know; I intend to find out. I have been his friend. I know of
no reason why he should turn this thing upon me.”
“But, Dick, who was the person on the island with Buckstone?”
“Who was he,” repeated Dick, removing his cigar, and glancing at
Hungerford.
“Yes, who was he? That hasn’t come out yet.”
“I don’t think you are as sharp as usual. Who was it?”
“I certainly have no idea.”
“It was Dr. Bilks.”
“Impossible!”
“Who else was it?”
“I don’t know; but what possible motive could Dr. Bilks have had in
hiring Buckstone to renew his marriage obligations?”
“I don’t know; I can’t imagine.”
This point was discussed, not very satisfactorily, till they reached
what was called the “Settlement,” the alleged birthplace of Dr. Bilks’s
baby.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE SETTLEMENT.
The Settlement was a knot of small, poor houses, occupied by thriftless
farmers, luckless fishermen, and laborers in the salt works. It was
hardly half a mile from the sea shore, and the land was very sandy and
barren.
The locality looked like a suitable field for the operations of
Mr. Eugene Hungerford, when he should commence, in earnest, his
philanthropic endeavors to improve the material condition of the race,
and thus reach and stimulate the moral and spiritual nature. But
with the exception of the laborers in the salt works, who lived here
for convenience, the people were most unpromising subjects for the
missionary of human progress. There was work enough in the villages
if they chose to do it; but they were mostly idlers and vagabonds,
who took their subsistence by stealth from the sea and the air; who
followed no steady occupation, and had no definite aims, any more
than they had any definite principles. If the lobster-pots of a
Port fisherman were meddled with; if an orchard on the turnpike was
robbed; if timber, iron, or cordage mysteriously disappeared from the
ship-yards, or from a vessel,--the mischief was promptly charged upon
some of the vagabonds of the Settlement, and, nine times out of ten,
justly so charged.
Eugene Hungerford was not bent upon an expedition philanthropic on the
present occasion. Nothing sublunary agitated him, when, as he turned
his horse from the Mills Road, and actually penetrated the bounds of
the Settlement, he discovered a chaise approaching them. The vehicle
contained a lady and gentleman, and was drawn by a high-spirited black
horse, familiar to Dick Birch, if not to Hungerford.
“We are too late!” exclaimed Dick, with ever so much disgust and
dissatisfaction evident in his tones.
“Why so?”