From Whose Bourne Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  For a moment Brenton was so bewildered and amazed at the awful headlineswhich he read, that he could hardly realize what had taken place.The fact that he had been poisoned, although it gave him a strangesensation, did not claim his attention as much as might have beenthought. Curiously enough he was more shocked at finding himself, asit were, the talk of the town, the central figure of a great newspapersensation. But the thing that horrified him was the fact that his wifehad been arrested for his murder. His first impulse was to go to her atonce, but he next thought it better to read what the paper said aboutthe matter, so as to become possessed of all the facts. The headlines,he said to himself, often exaggerated things, and there was apossibility that the body of the article would not bear out the namingannouncement above it. But as he read on and on, the situation seemedto become more and more appalling. He saw that his friends had beensuspicious of his sudden death, and had insisted on a post-mortemexamination. That examination had been conducted by three of the mosteminent physicians of Cincinnati, and the three doctors had practicallyagreed that the deceased, in the language of the verdict, had come tohis death through morphia poisoning, and the coroner's jury had broughtin a verdict that "the said William Brenton had been poisoned by someperson unknown." Then the article went on to state how suspicion hadgradually fastened itself upon his wife, and at last her arrest had beenordered. The arrest had taken place that day.

  Mrs. Brenton.]

  After reading this, Brenton was in an agony of mind. He pictured hisdainty and beautiful wife in a stone cell in the city prison. He foresawthe horrors of the public trial, and the deep grief and pain whichthe newspaper comments on the case would cause to a woman educated andrefined. Of course, Brenton had not the slightest doubt in his own mindabout the result of the trial. His wife would be triumphantly acquitted;but, all the same, the terrible suspense which she must suffer in themeanwhile would not be compensated for by the final verdict of the jury.

  Brenton at once went to the jail, and wandered through that gloomybuilding, searching for his wife. At last he found her, but it was ina very comfortable room in the sheriffs residence. The terror and thetrials of the last few days had aged her perceptibly, and it cut Brentonto the heart to think that he stood there before her, and could not byany means say a soothing word that she would understand. That she hadwept many bitter tears since the terrible Christmas morning was evident;there were dark circles under her beautiful eyes that told of sleeplessnights. She sat in a comfortable armchair, facing the window; and lookedsteadily out at the dreary winter scene with eyes that apparently sawnothing. Her hands lay idly on her lap, and now and then she caught herbreath in a way that was half a sob and half a gasp.

  Presently the sheriff himself entered the room.

  "Mrs. Brenton," he said, "there is a gentleman here who wishes to seeyou. Mr. Roland, he tells me his name is, an old friend of yours. Do youcare to see any one?"

  The lady turned her head slowly round, and looked at the sheriff for amoment, seemingly not understanding what he said. Finally she answered,dreamily--

  "Roland? Oh, Stephen! Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Ask him tocome in, please."

  The next moment Stephen Roland entered, and somehow the fact that he hadcome to console Mrs. Brenton did not at all please the invisible man whostood between them.

  "My dear Mrs. Brenton," began Roland, "I hope you are feeling betterto-day? Keep up your courage, and be brave. It is only for a very shorttime. I have retained the noted criminal lawyers, Benham and Brown, forthe defence. You could not possibly have better men."

  At the word "criminal" Mrs. Brenton shuddered.

  "Alice," continued Roland, sitting down near her, and drawing his chaircloser to her, "tell me that you will not lose your courage. I want youto be brave, for the sake of your friends."

  He took her listless hand in his own, and she did not withdraw it.

  Brenton felt passing over him the pangs of impotent rage, as he saw thisact on the part of Roland.

  Roland had been an unsuccessful suitor for the hand which he now heldin his own, and Brenton thought it the worst possible taste, to say theleast, that he should take advantage now of her terrible situation toingratiate himself into her favour.

  The nearest approach to a quarrel that Brenton and his wife had hadduring their short six months of wedded life was on the subject of theman who now held her hand in his own. It made Brenton impatient to thinkthat a woman with all her boasted insight into character, her instinctsas to what was right and what was wrong, had such little real intuitionthat she did not see into the character of the man whom they werediscussing; but a woman never thinks it a crime for a man to have beenin love with her, whatever opinion of that man her husband may hold.

  "It is awful! awful! awful!" murmured the poor lady, as the tears againrose to her eyes.

  "Of course it is," said Roland; "it is particularly awful that theyshould accuse you, of all persons in the world, of this so-called crime.For my part I do not believe that he was poisoned at all, but we willsoon straighten things out. Benham and Brown will give up everythingand devote their whole attention to this case until it is finished.Everything will be done that money or friends can do, and all that weask is that you keep up your courage, and do not be downcast with theseeming awfulness of the situation."

  Mrs. Brenton wept silently, but made no reply. It was evident, however,that she was consoled by the words and the presence of her visitor.Strange as it may appear, this fact enraged Brenton, although he hadgone there for the very purpose of cheering and comforting his wife. Allthe bitterness he had felt before against his former rival was revived,and his rage was the more agonizing because it was inarticulate. Thenthere flashed over him Ferris's sinister advice to leave things alone inthe world that he had left. He felt that he could stand this no longer,and the next instant he found himself again in the wintry streets ofCincinnati.

  The name of the lawyers, Benham and Brown, kept repeating itself in hismind, and he resolved to go to their office and hear, if he could, whatpreparations were being made for the defence of a woman whom he knew tobe innocent. He found, when he got to the office of these noted lawyers,that the two principals were locked in their private room; and goingthere, he found them discussing the case with the coolness andimpersonal feeling that noted lawyers have even when speaking of issuesthat involve life or death.

  "Yes," Benham was saying, "I think that, unless anything new turns up,that is the best line of defence we can adopt."

  "What do you think might turn up?" asked Brown.

  "Well, you can never tell in these cases. They may find somethingelse--they may find the poison, for instance, or the package thatcontained it. Perhaps a druggist will remember having sold it to thiswoman, and then, of course, we shall have to change our plans. I neednot say that it is strictly necessary in this case to give out noopinions whatever to newspaper men. The papers will be full of rumours,and it is just as well if we can keep our line of defence hidden untilthe time for action comes."

  "Still," said Brown, who was the younger partner, "it is as well to keepin with the newspaper fellows; they'll be here as soon as they find wehave taken charge of the defence."

  "Well, I have no doubt you can deal with them in such a way as to givethem something to write up, and yet not disclose anything we do not wishknown."

  "I think you can trust me to do that," said Brown, with a self-satisfiedair.

  "I shall leave that part of the matter entirely in your hands," repliedBenham. "It is better not to duplicate or mix matters, and if anynewspaper man comes to see me I will refer him to you. I will say I knownothing of the case whatever."

  "Very well," answered Brown. "Now, between ourselves, what do you thinkof the case?"

  "Oh, it will make a great sensation. I think it will probably be one ofthe most talked-of cases that we have ever been connected with."

  "Yes, but what do you think of her guilt or innocence?"

 
; "As to that," said Benham, calmly, "I haven't the slightest doubt. Shemurdered him."

  As he said this, Brenton, forgetting himself for a moment, sprangforward as if to strangle the lawyer. The statement Benham had madeseemed the most appalling piece of treachery. That men should take awoman's money for defending her, and actually engage in a case when theybelieved their client guilty, appeared to Brenton simply infamous.

  "I agree with you," said Brown. "Of course she was the only one tobenefit by his death. The simple fool willed everything to her, and sheknew it; and his doing so is the more astounding when you remember hewas quite well aware that she had a former lover whom she would gladlyhave married if he had been as rich as Brenton. The supreme idiocy ofsome men as far as their wives are concerned is something awful."

  Publicity.]

  "Yes," answered Benham, "it is. But I tell you, Brown, she is noordinary woman. The very conception of that murder had a stroke oforiginality about it that I very much admire. I do not remember anythinglike it in the annals of crime. It is the true way in which a murdershould be committed. The very publicity of the occasion was a safeguard.Think of poisoning a man at a dinner that he has given himself, in themidst of a score of friends. I tell you that there was a dash ofbravery about it that commands my admiration."

  "Do you imagine Roland had anything to do with it?"

  "Well, I had my doubts about that at first, but I think he is innocent,although from what I know of the man he will not hesitate to share theproceeds of the crime. You mark my words, they will be married withina year from now if she is acquitted. I believe Roland knows her to beguilty."

  "I thought as much," said Brown, "by his actions here, and by someremarks he let drop. Anyhow, our credit in the affair will be all thegreater if we succeed in getting her off. Yes," he continued, rising andpushing back his chair, "Madam Brenton is a murderess."