The House of the Whispering Pines (44 page)

That night, just as I was preparing to leave the stable to join the other
servants on their ride to Tibbitt's Hall, the telephone rang and I heard
Miss Cumberland's voice. "Zadok," she said—and at first I could hardly
understand her,—"I am in trouble; I want help, and you are the only one
who can aid me. Answer; do you hear me and are you quite alone in the
stable?" I told her yes, and that I was listening to all she said. I
suspected her trouble, and was ready to stand by her, if a man like me
could do anything.

I had been with her many years, and I loved her as well as I could love
anybody; though you won't think it when I tell you my whole story. What
she wanted was this: I was to go to the ball just as if nothing had
happened, but I was not to stay there. As soon as I could, I was to slip
out, get a carriage from some near-by stable, and hurry back up the road
to meet her and take her where she would tell me; or, if I did not meet
her, to wait two houses below hers, till she came along. She would not
want me long, and very soon I could go back and have as good a time as I
pleased. But she would like me to be secret, for her errand was not one
for gossip, even among her own servants.

It was the first time she had ever asked me to do anything for her
which any one else might not have done, and I was proud of her
confidence, and happy to do just what she asked. I even tried to do
better, and be even more secret about it than she expected. Instead of
going to a stable, I took one of the rigs which I found fastened up in
the big shed alongside the hall; and being so fortunate as not to
attract anybody's attention by this business, I was out on the road and
half way to The Whispering Pines, before Helen and Maggie could wonder
why I had not asked them to dance.

A few minutes later I was on the Hill, for the horse I had chosen was a
fast one; and I was just turning into our street when I was passed by Mr.
Arthur's grey mare and cutter. This made me pull up for a minute, for I
hadn't expected this; but on looking ahead and seeing Miss Cumberland
peering from our own gateway, I drove quickly on and took her up.

I was not so much astonished as you would think, to be ordered to follow
fast after the mare and cutter, and to stop where it stopped. That was
all she wanted—to follow that cutter, and to stop where it stopped.
Well, it stopped at the club-house; and when she saw it turn in there, I
heard her give a little gasp.

"Wait," she whispered. "Wait till she has had time to get out and go
in; then drive in, too, and help me to find my way into the building
after her."

And then I knew it was Miss Carmel we had been following. Before, I
thought it was Mr. Arthur.

Presently, she pulled me by the sleeve. "I heard the door shut," said
she—and I was a little frightened at her voice, but I was full of my
importance, and went on doing just as she bade me. Driving in after the
cutter, I drew up into the shadows where the grey mare was hid, and then,
reaching out my hand to Miss Cumberland, I helped her out, and went with
her as far as the door. "You may go back now," said she. "If I survive
the night, I shall never forget this service, my good Zadok." And I saw
her lift her hand to the door, then fall back white and trembling in the
moonlight. "I can't," she whispered, over and over; "I can't—I can't."

"Shall I knock?" I asked.

"No, no," she whispered back. "I want to go in quietly; let's see if
there's no other way. Run about the house, Zadok; I will submit to any
humiliation; only find me some entrance other than this." She was shaking
so and her face looked so ghastly in the moonlight that I was afraid to
leave her; but she made me a gesture of such command that I ran quickly
down the steps, and so round the house till I came to a shed over the top
of which I saw a window partly open.

Could I get her up on to the shed? I thought I could, and went hurrying
back to the big entrance where I had left her. She was still there,
shivering with the cold, but just as determined as ever. "Come," I
whispered; "I have found a way."

She gave me her hand and I led her around to the shed. She was like a
snow woman and her touch was ice itself. "Wait till I get a box or board
or something," I said. Hunting about, I found a box leaning against the
kitchen side, and, bringing it, I helped her up and soon had her on a
level with the window.

As she made her way in, she turned and whispered to me: "Go back
now. Carmel has a horse, and will see me home. You have served me
well, Zadok."

I nodded, and she vanished into the darkness. Then I should have gone;
but my curiosity was too great. I wanted to know just a little more. Two
women in this desolate and bitterly cold club-house! What did it mean?

I could not restrain myself from following her in and listening, for a
few minutes, to what they had to say. But I did not catch much of it; and
when I heard other sounds from some place below, and recognised these
sounds as a man's heavy footsteps coming up the rear stairs, I got a
fright at being where I should not be, and slipped into the first door I
found, expecting this man to come out and join the ladies.

But he did not; he just lingered for a moment in the hall I had left,
then I heard him clamber out of the window and go. I now know that this
was Mr. Arthur. But I did not know it then, and I was frightened for
the horse I had run off with, and so got out of the building as quickly
as I could.

And all might yet have been well if I had not found, lying on the snow at
the foot of the shed, a bottle of whiskey such as I had never drunk and
did not know how to resist. Catching it up, I ran about the house to
where I had left my rig. It was safe, and in my relief at finding it, I
knocked off the head of the bottle and took a long drink.

Then I drank again; then I sat down in the snow and drank again. In
short, I nearly finished it; then I became confused; I looked at the
piece of broken bottle in my hand, took a fancy to its shape, and
breaking off a bit more, thrust it into one of my big pockets. Then I
staggered up to the horse; but I did not untie him.

Curiosity seized me again, and I thought I would take another look at the
ladies—perhaps they might want me—perhaps—I was pretty well confused,
but I went back and crawled once more into the window.

This time the place was silent—not a sound, not a breath,—but I
could see a faint glimmer of light. I followed this glimmer. Still
there was no sound.

I came to an open door. A couch was before me, heaped with cushions. A
long ray of moonlight had shot in through a communicating door, and I
could see everything by it. This was where the ladies had been when I
listened before, but they were not here now.

Weren't they? Why did I tremble so, then, and stare and stare at those
cushions? Why did I feel I must pull them away, as I presently did? I was
mad with liquor and might easily have imagined what I there saw; but I
did not think of this then. I believed what I saw instantly. Miss
Cumberland was dead, and I had discovered the crime. She had killed
herself—no, she had been killed!

Should I yell out murder? No, no; I could be sorry without that. I would
not yell—mistresses were plenty. I had liked her, but I need not yell.
There was something else I could do.

She had a ring on her finger—a ring that for months I had gloated over
and watched, as I had never watched and gloated over any other beautiful
thing in my life. I wanted it—I had always wanted it. It was before me,
for the taking now—I should be a fool to leave it there for some other
wretch to pilfer. I had loved her—I would love the ring.

Reaching down, I took it. I drew it from her finger; I put it in my
pocket; I—God in heaven! The eyes I had seen glassed in death were
looking at me.

She was not dead—she had been witness of the theft. Without a thought of
what I was doing, my hands closed round her throat. It was
drink—fright—terror at the look she gave me—which made me kill her;
not my real self. My real self could have shrieked when, in another
instant, I saw my work.

But shrieking would not bring her back and it would quite ruin me. Miss
Carmel was somewhere near. I heard her now at the telephone; in another
minute she would come out and meet me. I dared not linger.

Tossing back the pillows, I stumbled from the place. Why I was not heard
by my young mistress, I do not know; her ears were deaf, just as my eyes
were half-blind. In a half hour I was dancing with the maids, telling
them of the pretty stranger with whom I had been sitting out an hour of
fun in a quiet corner. They believed me, and not a particle of suspicion
has any man ever had of me since.

But others have had to suffer, and that has made hell of my nights. I
restored the ring to my poor mistress; but even that brought harm to one
I had no quarrel with. But he has escaped conviction; and if I thought
Mr. Ranelagh would also escape, I might have courage to live out my
miserable life, and seek to make amends in the way she would have me.

But I fear for him; I fear for Miss Carmel. Never could I testify in
another trial which threatened her peace of mind. I see that, instead of
being the selfish stealer of her sister's happiness, as I had thought,
she is an angel from whom all future suffering should be kept.

This is my way of sparing her. Perhaps it will help her sister to forgive
me when we meet in the world to which I am now going.

[1]
It was the top portion, leaving the rest to read:
"Come, come my darling, my life. She will forgive when all is done.
Hesitation will only undo us. To-night at 10:30. I shall never marry any
one but you."
It was also evident that I had failed to add those expressions of
affection linked to Carmel's name which had been in my mind and awakened
my keenest apprehension.