Part 11 (1/2)
”That was a fad of Courtenay's, you know. Wherever he went, he'd never be photographed. He was annoyed that day that your father should have taken him unawares. He hated being 'done,' he said. He's so handsome and so nice, but he's not a bit conceited. And he was such a splendid bicyclist! He rode over and back on his bicycle that day, and then ran in all the races as if it were nothing.”
A light burst over me at once. This was circ.u.mstantial evidence. The murderer who disappeared as if by magic the moment his crime was committed must have come and gone all unseen, no doubt, on his bicycle. He must have left it under the window till his vile deed was done, and then leapt out upon it in a second and dashed off whence he came like a flash of lightning.
It was a premeditated crime, in that case, not the mere casual result of a sudden quarrel.
I must find out this man now, were it only to relieve my own sense of mystery.
”Minnie,” I said once more, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up my courage to ask, ”where's Dr. Ivor now? I mean--that is to say--in what part of Canada?”
Minnie looked at me and laughed.
”There, I told you so!” she said, merrily. ”It's not the least bit of use your pretending you're not in love with him, Una. Why, just look how you tremble! You're as white as a ghost! And then you say you don't care for poor Courtenay! I forget the exact name of the place where he lives, but I've got it in my desk, and I can tell you to-morrow.--Oh, yes; it's Palmyra, on the Canada Pacific. I suppose you want to write to him. Or perhaps you mean to go out and offer yourself bodily.”
It was awful having to bottle up the truth in one's own heart, and to laugh and jest like this; but I endured it somehow.
”No, it's not that,” I said gravely. ”I've other reasons of my own for asking his address, Minnie. I want to go out there, it's true; but not because I cherish the faintest pleasing recollection of Dr.
Ivor in any way.”
Minnie scanned me over in surprise.
”Well, how you ARE altered, Una!” she cried. ”I love you, dear, and like you every bit as much as ever. But you've changed so much. I don't think you're at all what you used to be. You're so grave and sombre.”
”No wonder, Minnie,” I exclaimed, bursting gladly into tears--the excuse was such a relief--”no wonder, when you think how much I've pa.s.sed through!”
Minnie flung her arms around my neck, and kissed me over and over again.
”Oh, dear!” she cried, melting. ”What have I done? What have I said?
I ought never to have spoken so. It was cruel of me--cruel, Una dear. I shall stop here to-night, and sleep with you.”
”Oh, thank you, darling!” I cried. ”Minnie, that IS good of you. I'm so awfully glad. For to-morrow I must be thinking of getting ready for Canada.”
”Canada!” Minnie exclaimed, alarmed. ”You're not really going to Canada! Oh, Una, you're joking! You don't mean to say you're going out there to find him!”
I took her hand in mine, and held it up in the air above her head solemnly.
”Dear cousin,” I said, ”I love you. But you must promise me this one thing. Whatever may happen, give me your sacred word of honour you'll never tell anybody what we've said here to-night. You'll kill me if you do. I don't want any living soul on earth to know of it.”
I spoke so seriously, Minnie felt it was important.
”I promise you,” she answered, growing suddenly far graver than her wont. ”Oh, Una, I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, but no torture on earth shall ever wring a word of it from me!”
So I went to bed in her arms, and cried myself to sleep, thinking with my latest breath, in a tremor of horror, that I'd found it at last. Courtenay Ivor was the name of my father's murderer!
CHAPTER XIV.
MY WELCOME TO CANADA
The voyage across the Atlantic was long and uneventful. No whales, no icebergs, no excitement of any sort. My fellow-pa.s.sengers said it was as dull as it was calm. But as for me, I had plenty to occupy my mind meanwhile. Strange things had happened in the interval, and were happening to me on the way. Strange things, in part, of my own internal history.