five tales-第12章
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und of footfall； he paced up and down； thinking。 He might see the defending counsel； might surely do that as an expert who thought there had been miscarriage of justice。 They must appeal； a petition too might be started in the last event。 The thing couldmust be put right yet； if only Larry and that girl did nothing！
He had no appetite； but the custom of dining is too strong。 And while he ate； he glanced with irritation at his fellow…members。 They looked so at their ease。 Unjustthat this black cloud should hang over one blameless as any of them！ Friends； connoisseurs of such thingsa judge among themcame specially to his table to express their admiration of his conduct of that will case。 Tonight he had real excuse for pride； but he felt none。 Yet； in this well…warmed quietly glowing room； filled with decorously eating； decorously talking men； he gained insensibly some comfort。 This surely was reality； that shadowy business out there only the drear sound of a wind one must and did keep outlike the poverty and grime which had no real existence for the secure and prosperous。 He drank champagne。 It helped to fortify reality； to make shadows seem more shadowy。 And down in the smoking…room he sat before the fire； in one of those chairs which embalm after…dinner dreams。 He grew sleepy there； and at eleven o'clock rose to go home。 But when he had once passed down the shallow marble steps； out through the revolving door which let in no draughts； he was visited by fear； as if he had drawn it in with the breath of the January wind。 Larry's face； and the girl watching it！ Why had she watched like that？ Larry's smile； and the flowers in his hand？ Buying flowers at such a moment！ The girl was his slave…whatever he told her； she would do。 But she would never be able to stop him。 At this very moment he might be rushing to give himself up！
His hand； thrust deep into the pocket of his fur coat； came in contact suddenly with something cold。 The keys Larry had given him all that time ago。 There they had lain forgotten ever since。 The chance touch decided him。 He turned off towards Borrow Street； walking at full speed。 He could but go again and see。 He would sleep better if he knew that he had left no stone unturned。 At the corner of that dismal street he had to wait for solitude before he made for the house which he now loathed with a deadly loathing。 He opened the outer door and shut it to behind him。 He knocked； but no one came。 Perhaps they had gone to bed。 Again and again he knocked； then opened the door； stepped in； and closed it carefully。 Candles lighted； the fire burning； cushions thrown on the floor in front of it and strewn with flowers！ The table； too； covered with flowers and with the remnants of a meal。 Through the half…drawn curtain he could see that the inner room was also lighted。 Had they gone out； leaving everything like this？ Gone out！ His heart beat。 Bottles！ Larry had been drinking！
Had it really come？ Must he go back home with this murk on him； knowing that his brother was a confessed and branded murderer？ He went quickly； to the half…drawn curtains and looked in。 Against the wall he saw a bed； and those two in it。 He recoiled in sheer amazement and relief。 Asleep with curtains undrawn； lights left on？ Asleep through all his knocking！ They must both be drunk。 The blood rushed up in his neck。 Asleep！ And rushing forward again； he called out： 〃Larry！〃 Then； with a gasp he went towards the bed。 〃Larry！〃 No answer！ No movement！ Seizing his brother's shoulder； he shook it violently。 It felt cold。 They were lying in each other's arms； breast to breast； lips to lips； their faces white in the light shining above the dressing…table。 And such a shudder shook Keith that he had to grasp the brass rail above their heads。 Then he bent down； and wetting his finger； placed it close to their joined lips。 No two could ever swoon so utterly as that； not even a drunken sleep could be so fast。 His wet finger felt not the faintest stir of air； nor was there any movement in the pulses of their hands。 No breath！ No life！ The eyes of the girl were closed。 How strangely innocent she looked！ Larry's open eyes seemed to be gazing at her shut eyes； but Keith saw that they were sightless。 With a sort of sob he drew down the lids。 Then； by an impulse that he could never have explained； he laid a hand on his brother's head； and a hand on the girl's fair hair。 The clothes had fallen down a little from her bare shoulder； he pulled them up； as if to keep her warm； and caught the glint of metal； a tiny gilt crucifix no longer than a thumbnail； on a thread of steel chain； had slipped down from her breast into the hollow of the arm which lay round Larry's neck。 Keith buried it beneath the clothes and noticed an envelope pinned to the coverlet； bending down； he read： 〃Please give this at once to the police。 LAURENCE DARRANT。〃 He thrust it into his pocket。 Like elastic stretched beyond its uttermost； his reason； will； faculties of calculation and resolve snapped to within him。 He thought with incredible swiftness： 'I must know nothing of this。 I must go！' And； almost before he knew that he had moved； he was out again in the street。
He could never have told of what he thought while he was walking home。 He did not really come to himself till he was in his study。 There； with a trembling hand； he poured himself out whisky and drank it off。 If he had not chanced to go there； the charwoman would have found them when she came in the morning； and given that envelope to the police！ He took it out。 He had a righta right to know what was in it！ He broke it open。
〃I； Laurence Darrant； about to die by my own hand； declare that this is a solemn and true confession。 I committed what is known as the Glove Lane Murder on the night of November the 27th last in the following way〃on and on to the last words〃We didn't want to die； but we could not bear separation； and I couldn't face letting an innocent man be hung for me。 I do not see any other way。 I beg that there may be no postmortem on our bodies。 The stuff we have taken is some of that which will be found on the dressing…table。 Please bury us together。
〃LAURENCE DARRANT。 〃January the 28th； about ten o'clock p。m。〃
Full five minutes Keith stood with those sheets of paper in his hand； while the clock ticked； the wind moaned a little in the trees outside； the flames licked the logs with the quiet click and ruffle of their intense far…away life down there on the hearth。 Then he roused himself； and sat down to read the whole again。
There it was； just as Larry had told it to him…nothing left out； very clear； even to the addresses of people who could identify the girl as having once been Walenn's wife or mistress。 It would convince。 Yes！ It would convince。
The sheets dropped from his hand。 Very slowly he was grasping the appalling fact that on the floor beside his chair lay the life or death of yet another man； that by taking this confession he had taken into his own hands the fate of the vagabond lying under sentence of death； that he could not give him back his life without incurring the smirch of this disgrace； without even endangering himself。 If he let this confession reach the authorities； he could never escape the gravest suspicion that he had known of the whole affair during these two months。 He would have to attend the inquest； be recognised by that policeman as having come to the archway to see where the body had lain； as having visited the girl the very evening after the murder。 Who would believe in the mere coincidence of such visits on the part of the murderer's brother。 But apart from that suspicion； the fearful scandal which so sensational an affair must make would mar his career； his life； his young daughter's life！ Larry's suicide with this girl would make sensation enough as it was； but nothing to that other。 Such a death had its romance； involved him in no way save as a mourner； could perhaps even be hushed up！ The other nothing could hush that up； nothing prevent its ringing to the house… tops。 He got up from his chair； and for many minutes roamed the room unable to get his mind to bear on the issue。 Images k
