Part 20 (1/2)
Emily clasped her hands in amazement. ”Can it be Alban Morris?” she exclaimed.
The doctor looked at her with a sardonic smile; he thought it likely that he had discovered her sweetheart.
”Who is Mr. Alban Morris?” he asked.
”The drawing-master at Miss Ladd's school.”
Doctor Allday dropped the subject: masters at ladies' schools were not persons who interested him. He returned to the purpose which had brought him to the cottage--and produced the Handbill that had been sent to him in Emily's letter.
”I suppose you want to have it back again?” he said.
She took it from him, and looked at it with interest.
”Isn't it strange,” she suggested, ”that the murderer should have escaped, with such a careful description of him as this circulated all over England?”
She read the description to the doctor.
”'Name not known. Supposed age, between twenty-five and thirty years.
A well-made man, of small stature. Fair complexion, delicate features, clear blue eyes. Hair light, and cut rather short. Clean shaven, with the exception of narrow half-whiskers. Small, white, well-shaped hands.
Wore valuable rings on the two last fingers of the left hand. Dressed neatly--'”
”That part of the description is useless,” the doctor remarked; ”he would change his clothes.”
”But could he change his voice?” Emily objected. ”Listen to this: 'Remarkably good voice, smooth, full, and persuasive.' And here again! 'Ingratiating manners.' Perhaps you will say he could put on an appearance of rudeness?”
”I will say this, my dear. He would be able to disguise himself so effectually that ninety-nine people out of a hundred would fail to identify him, either by his voice or his manner.”
”How?”
”Look back at the description: 'Hair cut rather short, clean shaven, with the exception of narrow half-whiskers.' The wretch was safe from pursuit; he had ample time at his disposal--don't you see how he could completely alter the appearance of his head and face? No more, my dear, of this disagreeable subject! Let us get to something interesting. Have you found anything else among your aunt's papers?”
”I have met with a great disappointment,” Emily replied. ”Did I tell you how I discovered the Handbill?”
”No.”
”I found it, with the sc.r.a.p-book and the newspaper cuttings, under a collection of empty boxes and bottles, in a drawer of the washhand-stand. And I naturally expected to make far more interesting discoveries in this room. My search was over in five minutes. Nothing in the cabinet there, in the corner, but a few books and some china.
Nothing in the writing-desk, on that side-table, but a packet of note-paper and some sealing-wax. Nothing here, in the drawers, but tradesmen's receipts, materials for knitting, and old photographs. She must have destroyed all her papers, poor dear, before her last illness; and the Handbill and the other things can only have escaped, because they were left in a place which she never thought of examining. Isn't it provoking?”
With a mind inexpressibly relieved, good Doctor Allday asked permission to return to his patients: leaving Emily to devote herself to her friend's letter.
On his way out, he noticed that the door of the bed-chamber on the opposite side of the pa.s.sage stood open. Since Miss Let.i.tia's death the room had not been used. Well within view stood the washhand-stand to which Emily had alluded. The doctor advanced to the house door--reflected--hesitated--and looked toward the empty room.
It had struck him that there might be a second drawer which Emily had overlooked. Would he be justified in setting this doubt at rest? If he pa.s.sed over ordinary scruples it would not be without excuse. Miss Let.i.tia had spoken to him of her affairs, and had asked him to act (in Emily's interest) as co-executor with her lawyer. The rapid progress of the illness had made it impossible for her to execute the necessary codicil. But the doctor had been morally (if not legally) taken into her confidence--and, for that reason, he decided that he had a right in this serious matter to satisfy his own mind.
A glance was enough to show him that no second drawer had been overlooked.
There was no other discovery to detain the doctor. The wardrobe only contained the poor old lady's clothes; the one cupboard was open and empty. On the point of leaving the room, he went back to the washhand-stand. While he had the opportunity, it might not be amiss to make sure that Emily had thoroughly examined those old boxes and bottles, which she had alluded to with some little contempt.