The Rose in the Ring

G >> George Barr McCutcheon >> The Rose in the Ring

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28

"I went upstairs to my work, leaving him below. Soon afterwards I went
down again to get the paper, feeling that I might as well read it
before going to bed. He was reading in the back parlor. I got the
envelope out of the drawer in the front room and went back upstairs
without disturbing him. A minute afterwards I heard the shot. My own
gun was standing in the corner. I grabbed it up and crawled through a
window on to the gallery, running down the back steps. As I reached
the bottom I saw a man climbing over the fence to the right. Not
dreaming that a tragedy had occurred, I rushed after him. He easily
got away in the darkness. Then I returned to the house. As I came near
I saw Isaac Perry--unmistakably Isaac Perry--at the corner. He turned
and ran the instant he saw me. When he crossed in front of the lighted
parlor windows I distinctly saw that he did not carry a gun. The man I
chased had one. Just then a great cry came from the parlor. I rushed
up to the window to look within. One of the panes of glass had been
broken.

"My grandfather was lying on the floor. Two of the servants were
standing near, looking at him as if paralyzed. There was blood on his
white shirt front. Oh! I can't tell you how it--"

He could not continue for a full minute or more. The girl was scarcely
breathing.

"I just stood there and stared, the gun in my hand. Suddenly some one
leaped upon me from behind. It was my uncle Frank and he was out of
breath, very much excited. 'You little devil!' he yelled two or three
times. Then he called for help. Servants came running from all
directions. I didn't know what he meant. Soon I was to learn."

"He--he thought you killed him?" whispered Christine.

"He _said_ I killed him. I was dazed--I was crazy. It was a long time
before I realized what was happening to me. The--the servants and the
neighbors who came in wanted to lynch me--but Judge Gainsborough, who
rode over in his night-clothes from his plantation, prevailed upon them
to wait--to give me a hearing. My uncle Frank would have let them hang
me. I began at last to realize how badly it looked for me. They laughed
at my story of the man who ran away. My uncle Frank deliberately denied
that Isaac Perry had been there. I was stupefied. It came over me
suddenly that--that Uncle Frank had done the shooting. He had killed
his own father!"

"The monster!"

"How wonderfully everything worked out against me. The gun, with one
barrel empty, for I had fired it that very day in the woods; my
presence at the window; the servants who saw me looking in; my uncle
Frank's tale of how he came out on the gallery above and saw me hiding
in the dead lilac bushes, and afterwards creep up to the window to
look in upon the thing I had done. He told of my attempt to run and of
his straggle to hold me. One of the servants had seen me go down when
granddaddy called to me, and again he had seen me go down quietly to
the library after the paper. I did go quietly, it is true, so as not
to disturb the old gentleman.

"They all rushed upstairs to search my room. Lying on my table was the
long envelope. Judge Gainsborough opened it, so he says. They came
downstairs and I shall never forget the look of horror in the Judge's
eyes as he stood there staring at me. 'David,' he said, 'this is a
terrible, terrible thing you have done.' I couldn't speak. 'How did
you know that your grandfather had made this new will?' Christine,
the--the paper was a new will, giving everything to my uncle Frank,
excepting a small bequest in money and a house and lot in Richmond,
which, however, was to go to Uncle Frank in case of my death. The will
looked genuine--everybody said so--even Judge Gainsborough. It had
been drawn three weeks before and had been witnessed by George
Whitman, who died ten days after signing, and Mortimer Simms, who,
strangely enough, died three days later."

"It was a forgery--a false will?" she cried, trembling violently in
her excitement.

"I know it was--I know it. My grandfather had told me of the deed.
This was the envelope and the paper. There was no such deed to be
found. That makes me half believe that he did sign the will, thinking
it was something else. My story about the deed was not believed. As
for Isaac Perry, my uncle said that he left for New York soon after my
grandfather's visit to Richmond, doubtless when the will was drawn and
signed. He could not have been near Jenison Hall at the time of the
shooting. Uncle Frank produced a letter from Isaac, received that very
day from New York, in which he said that he was going to Europe as the
body-servant of a New York gentleman who had helped him to secure an
education.

"They locked me in the cellar and put a guard over me until the
sheriff could come up in the morning. Christine, there wasn't a single
chance for me to prove my innocence. I knew that Uncle Frank and Isaac
Perry had arranged the whole devilish plot--how nicely they arranged
it, too! It worked out even better than they expected, for I
unwittingly damned myself. I never can tell you of my feelings when
the whole thing became clear to me. I must leave that to your
imagination. I was as innocent as a babe, and yet, in the eyes of
every one, as guilty as ever any murderer has been in this world. My
only chance to escape certain hanging lay in escape. It was after
three o'clock in the morning when I began to think of flight. I made
up my mind that I could never hope for acquittal. I thought only of
getting away from them and then devoting my whole life to finding the
proof of my innocence. Isaac Perry can prove it--or my uncle. But, my
uncle will not do it--and Isaac is not to be found. I discovered that
when I reached Richmond two nights afterwards. He had left nearly
three weeks before, never to return, it was said.

"Well, to make it short, I hit my darky guard over the head with a
chunk of stove-wood. I hated to do it, but it was the only chance. You
can't kill a nigger by hitting him on the head. Then I crawled through
a small hole in the cellar wall into the potato bins beyond. From
there I could easily get into the back yard, provided no one was
watching. They were all on the other side of the wing, discussing the
murder--and me. They said I'd surely be lynched the next night. Oh, it
was awful. I crawled out of the window hole and sneaked off toward the
hen-houses, below the old slave building. I don't know when they
missed me. I only know that I reached the woods and ran and ran till I
thought I should drop. Some other time I will tell you of all I went
through during the next week. You won't believe a lot of it, I know,--
it was so dreadful. There were a good many times when I was ready to
give up, and a good many times when they almost had me. God helped me,
though. He heard my prayers. I'll never again think there is no God,
as a lot of us used to think at the University. You don't know the
agony of dread and fear in which I'm living now. Something tells me
that they will get me and that I'll never have the chance to find
Isaac Perry, to force him to tell the truth."

"I am sure you will find him, David," she said, but her heart was very
cold.

The circus tents were just ahead of them now. The band was playing and
people were hurrying along the poorly lighted streets, sheltered by
umbrellas, all bound for the "grounds."

David's lips were rigid; his eyes saw nothing of the scene ahead, nor
were his ears conscious of the music.

"Christine, I am going to kill my uncle Frank," he said, quite calmly.

"Oh, David!"

"If I find I can't clear myself, I am going back there and shoot him
down like a dog--just as he shot his poor old fa--father." His body
shook with the racking sobs that choked him.

"You must not do that," she implored, terrified. "Then they would
surely hang you."

"Ah, but I wouldn't mind it then," he said between his teeth.

"David, you must let mother talk with you. She can tell you what to
do. Don't think of--of that, please, please don't."

He turned upon her, amazed. "Don't you think that he _ought_ to be
killed?" he demanded.

"Can't a judge order him to be hung?" she asked encouragingly.

"But they'd never be able to prove it on him. Christine, I--I wouldn't
be surprised if he has also killed Isaac Perry. I've thought of that,
too. Isaac is too dangerous to be left alive, don't you see. He drew
the will and perhaps forged granddaddy's name, and also that of George
Whitman, after Whitman's death. Maybe granddaddy really signed the
will, thinking it was the transfer. I--"

"Do you think your uncle wanted you to be hanged for something you
didn't do,--for a murder he committed himself?"

"Why not? I was in the way. If they lynched me at once, he could feel
very secure. Besides, he knew of the other will, dated years ago,
which is in the bank at Richmond. Of course, the fraudulent will takes
the place of the old one."

David did not then tell her of his stealthy return to Jenison Hall two
nights after his flight and before the funeral. On this occasion he
not only secured the envelope containing the three thousand dollars,
hidden in his mother's black leather trunk, but from a place of
concealment he was forced to hear such damning talk regarding himself
that he again stole away, fully convinced that his wild design to
charge his uncle with the crime would be absolutely suicidal.

A sharp exclamation from the girl brought him out of his last fit of
abstraction. They were quite near to the tents.

"We are late," she cried nervously. "I didn't think of the time. The
band is playing the waltz--that's the second piece before the
tournament. We must hurry. Oh, I _do_ hope father has not missed us!"

There was abject terror in her voice.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, apprehending the outcome for her alone.
"We must make for the rear of the dressing-tent. Hurry, Christine."

They broke into a run, intending to make a wide circuit of the main-
tops. She was breathless with anxiety. He grasped her arm to help her
across the rough ground.

"If he knew, he would drive you away," she cried. She was not thinking
of herself.

Near the dressing-tent they were met by Mrs. Braddock, who had started
out to look for them.

"Hurry," she whispered. "Go in on the other side, Jack--quickly. Come
this way, Christine. Your father is coming back through the main-top.
Mr. Briggs and Professor Hanson are detaining him near the band
section--talking of a change in the music. Oh, I've been so nervous!"

"Good-by, David," whispered Christine, as she flew to the sidewall. An
instant later she disappeared, casting a quick glance up into his face
as he gallantly lifted the canvas for her to pass under.

"I'm sorry," he murmured impulsively to Mrs. Braddock as she followed.
Then he raced around the tent and bolted under the wall into the men's
section.

Joey Grinaldi simply glared at him.

In two minutes he was out of his clothes and beginning to slip into
the stripes.

"Here's Brad," hissed a friendly "Courtier," calling in through the
flap, beyond which a dozen men and women were waiting to make the
_grand entree_, or "tournament."

Braddock came in, his cigar wallowing in the throes of a vacuous but
conciliatory smile. Every one stood ready for a shocking display of
profanity.

"Jacky," he said, with amiable disregard for the novice's tardiness,
"would you mind letting me take fifty dollars until to-morrow? There's
a guy out here that threatens to attach us if I don't settle an
outrageous bill for feed and provisions. I'm just forty-eight fifty
short."

No one spoke. David did not even glance at Grinaldi or the others. He
knew and they knew that there was no such claim against Braddock. He
hesitated for an instant only. Then it was borne in upon him that
Braddock may have heard of his walk with Christine and was demanding
tribute.

He picked up his coat and deliberately drew from the lining a thin,
folded bit of paper. It contained all the money that was in his
possession at the time. He counted off five ten-dollar bills, replaced
the remaining thirty dollars inside his striped shirt, and handed the
tribute to Braddock.

"You're a damn' fine boy, Jacky," said the man. "I'll not forget
this."

Later on he demonstrated the sincerity of the remark.

He came back when the show was half over, and with vast good nature
took David over to where Mrs. Braddock and Christine were standing
with wonder and doubt in their faces.

"I guess it's all right for us four to see a little more of each
other," he said, but he did not look at his wife. "Jacky, you rascal,
you _are_ a gentleman, and as such I introduce you to my family. Let's
all be friends."

Mrs. Braddock's face went white. She understood the motive of the man.
He meant to follow new methods in the effort to secure possession of
David's money.

Christine beamed with delight. She kissed her father's stubbly cheek
and called him a darling!

CHAPTER VII

THE BROTHERS CRONK

"Don't you tell 'im you've stuck that money away in a bank," was all
that Joey Grinaldi said when David told him of Braddock's sudden
change of front. It was a sentient bit of advice, showing that the
wool was not to be pulled over Joey's eyes.

"I think I understand," said David gloomily. "But what am I to say to
him?"

"Don't peep. Leave it to me. I'll tell 'im that you're talking of
putting most of it into the business after you get safely over into
Indiana or Illinois. That'll stave 'im off. But he's going to 'ave
that money, one way or another, my lad. That's wot's on 'is mind."

The next morning, just after the parade, David went off for a walk in
the town. His thoughts were of the evening before and the half-hour he
had spent with Christine. He was thinking of her wonderfully
sympathetic eyes, of the live touch of her hand on his arm, of the
soft music in her voice, of the delicious words of faith and
confidence she had whispered. He could still feel the tight clasp of
her fingers on his arm; he could still hear the tremulous note in her
voice.

And how gravely she had smiled at him in the ring! What a profession
of deep loyalty there was in the glance she gave him when he passed
her in the dressing-tent! The world seemed to have grown brighter for
him all of a sudden. For the first time in weeks he whistled,--and it
was a blithe air that he lilted, for, by nature, he was a blithe lad.

His reverie was abruptly disturbed. Turning a corner he came upon a
group of town boys. They were making faces and hooting at a strange
figure that crouched against a high board fence. David recalled this
figure at once: a squat, hunchback lad who was to be seen at times
behind the counter of the "snack stand." More than once had the
strong, straight Virginian gazed with a certain pity upon the pale-
faced cripple. He had been struck by the look of patient suffering in
the boy's face.

But now that look was gone. The hunchback, who could have been no more
than fifteen, was convulsed by rage. He was showing his teeth like a
vicious dog. The most appalling flow of profanity came shrieking
through his white lips. David was shocked. Never in all his life had
he heard such unspeakable names as those which the tormented boy was
screaming back at his tantalizers.

Suddenly he spat upon the biggest of his scoffers, following the act
with a name so vile that the other leaped forward and struck him a
heavy blow in the face.

This was too much for David. He dashed in and planted a stinging
right-hander on the jaw of the enraged bully, sending him to the
ground beside the hunchback, who was writhing there with blood on his
lips.

For a second or two the fellow's companions, four in number, stood
undecided. Then, with one accord, they rushed at David Jenison.

The Virginian was not skilled in the art of self-defense, but he was
brave and cool and strong. He met the rush staunchly. To his own
surprise his wild swings landed with amazing precision and the most
gratifying effect. Two of his assailants reeled away under the savage
impact of his blows. A stone, hurled by one of the young ruffians,
struck him on the shoulder; another reached his face with a cutting
blow of the fist. He felt the hot blood trickling down his cheek. But
he stood squarely in front of the hunchback, his fists swinging like
mad, half of his blows failing to land on the person of any one of his
crowding, cursing adversaries.

Suddenly a new element entered into the one-sided conflict. A
whirlwind figure dashed out of an alley hard by and came crashing into
the thick of the fray.

"Dick! Dick!" shrieked the cowering cripple, the fiercest glee in his
shrill voice.

"Always on hand," sang out the newcomer, slashing out right and left.
"Old Nick-o'-time, my lads. So you'd jump on a cripple, would you?
Here's a Christmas gift for you, you hayseed!"

Singing glibly after this fashion, the tall recruit laid about him
with devastating effect. Three of the surprised town boys were
sprawling on the ground; another was trying to scale the fence ahead
of an expected boot-toe; the fifth was being soundly polished off by
the exhilarated David. In less time than it takes to tell it, five
terrified hoodlums were "streaking it" in as many directions, their
chins high with a mighty resolve, their legs working like pinwheels,
their eyes popping and their mouths spread in speechless endeavor.
Five seconds later you couldn't have found one of them with a
telescope.

The hunchback had leaped forward and was clasping a leg of the tall,
angry rescuer, whining petulantly: "Why didn't you come sooner, Dick!
You never look out for me. One of them struck me. See!"

"Struck you, did he? I'd--I'd have killed him if I'd knowed that,
Ernie. But, say, who's your friend? Looked as if he was doing business
all right when I came up. Hello! They got to you, did they? Bleeding
like a pig, you are. Say, young feller, never--_never_ put your nose
where it can be hit. I hates the sight of blood, and always did."

David was wiping the blood from his cheek. The tall young man came
over and inspected the break in the cuticle.

"Just peeled it off a little," he announced. "No harm done. Oh, I say,
you're the new clown, ain't you? I saw you last night. Put it there,
kid. You're a brick. I'll not forget what you did for Ernie."

The two shook hands. The satirical grin had left the stranger's face.
He was regarding David with keen gray eyes, narrowed by the odd
intentness of his gaze. David had the feeling that his innermost soul
was being searched by the shrewdest eyes he had ever looked into.

"I came up just in time," explained the Virginian, still somewhat out
of breath. "They were teasing him, and then one of the brutes struck
him. I like fair play. I couldn't help taking a hand. They might have
hurt him severely."

"He's my brother," said the other, putting his hand on Ernie's
misshapen shoulder. "No, I won't forget this," he went on. "You didn't
have to interfere, but you did. Plucky thing to do. They say you come
from Virginia. Well, you've proved it. Thank you for doing this. My
name's Dick Cronk. I'm from New York. Ernest, I haven't heard you say
anything that sounds like 'much obliged.' Speak up!"

The hunchback looked sullenly at the ground, his black eyebrows almost
meeting in a straight line above his nose.

"He couldn't have licked 'em if you hadn't come, Dick," he protested.

"See here, Ernie," said Dick, "that's no way to act. Mr.--er--this
young gentleman defended you until I--"

"I saw him looking at my--my hump yesterday. He laughed at me," cried
the boy fiercely.

David's hand fell from his bloody cheek. "Laughed at you?" he cried.
"I _never_ did such a thing. You are mistaken."

"What were you laughing at, then?" demanded the unfortunate boy, made
over-sensitive by his dread of ridicule.

"I don't remember that I laughed," said David, perplexed and
distressed.

"Well, you did," defiantly.

David caught the look of profound embarrassment in Dick Cronk's face.
He felt a sharp pity for him, though he could not have explained why.

"I'm sorry you think that of me," he said. "And I am happy to have
come to your assistance just now. Let's be friends."

Dick pushed Ernie forward, gently but firmly. The hunchback extended
his hand grudgingly.

"All right," he said sulkily.

"Come on!" said Dick, suddenly alert. "The cops will be along here
directly. Let's get back to the lot. I'm not particularly anxious to
get pinched just now."

He winked at David in a most mysterious way, and then grinned broadly.
David looked puzzled. Then a deep flush spread over his unstained
cheek.

"You mean because you are with me?" he demanded.

Dick Cronk stared. "What's that got to do with me? Oh!" He appeared to
recall something to mind. "I didn't mean anything like that," he
hastened to explain. "As far as that goes, I guess you're in worse
company than I am at the present moment."

With this enigmatic rejoinder he proceeded to collect three trophies
of the battle and toss them over the high board fence. Three of their
late enemies had neglected to pick up their hats as they scuttled off
the field of carnage.

"None of them worth keeping," was his contemptuous remark as he
started off briskly in the direction of the circus lot.

For the first time in many days the sun was shining. David announced
that he would proceed on his walk toward the distant hills.

"Better come along with me," advised Dick, halting abruptly. "The cops
will get wind of this. They jerk up a circus man on the slightest
excuse. It's something of an honor, I believe, to land one of us in
jail. The darned rubes talk about it for weeks afterwards, telling how
they nailed a desperate character. Everybody connected with a show is
a regular devil in their eyes. And that reminds me. I had my lamps on
a couple of blue boys down the street as I came up. We'd better go up
this alley."

The three of them turned into the narrow alley and walked briskly
along, Dick Cronk regaling the perplexed David with airy comments on
the methods employed by rustic police in their efforts to preserve the
city from the depredations of circus followers and scalawags. He was a
revelation to the young Virginian.

Despite his jaunty, casual manner, there was a certain keen
watchfulness in his face, an alert gleam in his lively eyes. He seemed
to be taking in everything as they ambled through the alley. When they
approached the intersecting street his gaze seemed to project itself
far ahead, even to the scouring of the thoroughfare in both
directions.

"I think those two cops are still at the corner below," he remarked."
We'll turn to the left without looking to the right."

They turned to the left.

"Yes," said Dick, who, so far as David could see, had not glanced to
the right, "they're still there. Let me tell you one thing, pardner.
If a cop ever stops you and begins asking questions, just you tell him
you're a performer. You can always prove it, whether you are one or
not." He drew forth a short black pipe. "Heigho! I'm glad to be back
with the show." There was a world of satisfaction in the way he said
it.

"Are you a performer?" asked David, glancing out of the corner of his
eye at the long, supple figure. The fellow was filling his pipe.

Dick Cronk laughed softly. "Yes. I've been performing on the
perpendicular bars for the past two weeks. Not the horizontal bars,
mind you. Banks and Davis do that act. Climbing up and down the bars
has been my job lately."

"You mean?"

"Even the innocent must suffer sometimes," quoth the nonchalant
philosopher. It was sharply revealed to David that he had been in
jail.

Three abreast they moved down the main street of the town, soon
mingling with the throngs of country people in the neighborhood of the
public square. Dick Cronk's hands were in his trouser pockets; his
shoulders were thrown back, his chin elevated, his long legs stepping
out freely, confidently. His stiff black hat was cocked airily over
his right ear. He was rather flashily dressed, but he had the ease of
manner that enabled him to carry his clothed with peculiar
unobtrusiveness. They were threadbare and untidy, if you took the
pains to look closely; but you never thought of looking closely; you
merely took in the general effect, which was rather pleasing than
otherwise.

The face of this debonair knight of Vagabondia was curiously
attractive, though not what you would call handsome. The features were
too pronounced, the lips too prone to twist into satirical grimaces.
His dark hair grew rather low on his wide forehead; it always looked
straight and damp. The nose was long and pointed. When he whistled--
which was almost incessantly--the tip of it appeared to protrude at
least half an inch farther out from his face and to assume a new
elevation. His chin was square and his neck was long. Swift-moving
gray eyes twinkled good-humoredly under a frank, open brow.

"Are you going to be with the show the rest of the summer?" asked
David hesitatingly, at one stage of their conversation.

"I don't know," said the other, pursing his lips. "I can't say that I
like Braddock's greedy ways. He wants too much in the divvy. There's
plenty of shows nowadays that don't ask anything off of us. But Brad's
got to have a slice of it. See? I've been thinking a little of Barnum
or Van Amberg."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28