Part 12 (1/2)

”A middle-aged housemaid who had lived with the Carstairs' all her life, and whose character was quite above suspicion. As a matter of course her writing was compared with that of the letters and was proved to have none of the characteristics of the anonymous handwriting. For another thing her sight was bad, and she couldn't write straight to save her life.”

”I see. And what of the other two?”

”One was a pretty young girl who acted as maid to Mrs. Carstairs herself; and I admit at first it seemed that she was the most likely person to have been mixed up in the affair; for she was a flighty minx who wasn't too particular about her behaviour, and was generally engaged to two or three young men at once.”

”Well?” From Sir Richard's manner Anstice gathered that there was no case against the pretty young minx; and the next words confirmed his supposition.

”Sad to say the poor girl caught a chill and died of pneumonia after only five days' illness, during which time the letter-writer was particularly active; and as the communications continued after her death, she must be counted out.”

”Well,” said Anstice, ”that accounts for three of them. What about the fourth?”

”The fourth was an old servant of the other side of the family--Chloe's family--the woman they call Tochatti, who lives there still. She's half Italian, though she's lived the greater part of her life in England.

Chloe's mother picked her up on her honeymoon, and she was Chloe's nurse. She has been a most devoted servant all the time, and I would almost as soon suspect Chloe herself as suspect the poor woman of working any harm to her adored young mistress.”

Remembering the woman's solicitude on the occasion of his first visit to Cherry Orchard, Anstice was compelled to admit it was unlikely she was the culprit; and his impression was deepened by Sir Richard's next speech.

”As a matter of fact, it came out that the poor old thing couldn't even write her name. The other woman, Janet, was what she called a 'poor scollard', but Tochatti went one better, for she could neither write nor read. It appeared they had often teased her about it, and she had frequently flown into a rage when the other servants poked fun at her; but she certainly scored in the end!”

”Well, that disposes of the household,” said Anstice rather regretfully.

”But what about outdoor workers--gardeners and so forth?”

”There was only one gardener--and a boy--and neither could possibly have had access to Chloe's writing-table; added to which they both left Cherry Orchard during the critical time and took situations in different parts of the county. So they too had to be counted out.”

”All this came out in court?”

”Yes. You see, had the matter rested between the party libelled and the libeller--if there is such a term--an action in the Civil Courts to recover damages would have met the case. But owing to the fact that practically everyone in the neighbourhood was victimized, and warnings, almost amounting to threats, issued to the Ogden woman's friends to have nothing more to do with her, the public were, so to speak, directly affected; and it was in the interests of the public that, finally, criminal proceedings were inst.i.tuted.”

”And in the end an intelligent jury brought in a verdict of guilty?”

”Yes. The case came on at Ripstone, five miles away, and of course excited no end of interest locally. To give them their due, the jury were very reluctant to bring in that verdict--but I a.s.sure you”--he spoke weightily--”when I heard the other side marshalling their facts, each one making the case look still blacker and more d.a.m.ning, I began to be afraid. Yes, I confess it, I began to feel very much afraid.”

”And they brought her in guilty?”

”Yes, and the Judge sentenced her. I don't like to accuse one of His Majesty's judges of allowing his judgment to be prejudiced by personal feeling,” said Sir Richard slowly; ”but it has always seemed to me that Chloe's manner--her peculiarly detached, indifferent manner, as though the case did not interest her vitally--was in some subtle fas.h.i.+on an affront to the man. His remarks to her seemed to me unnecessarily severe, and he certainly did not err on the side of leniency.”

”I should think not! Twelve months--why, it's an Eternity!”

”What must it have seemed to that poor girl!” Sir Richard spoke pitifully. ”I used to fancy she would die in prison--I could not imagine how she could support the life in there, in those degrading surroundings. You know, not only had she been lapped in luxury, as they say, all her life, but, more important still, she had been used to boundless love and affection from all around her.”

”You find her much altered?”

”Yes. I can't say exactly in what the alteration consists,” returned Sir Richard thoughtfully. ”It's not merely a surface thing--the change goes deeper than that. I called her _posee_ just now. Well, I don't know if that's the right word. Sometimes I think that frozen manner of hers isn't a pose after all, it's natural to her nowadays. She seems to be literally turned to stone by all she's gone through. Where she used to be all sympathy, all ardour, all life, now she's cold, frigid, pa.s.sionless. The girl's barely twenty-five, but upon my soul she might be a woman of fifty for all the youth there is about her--except in her looks, and there I believe she's handsomer than ever!”

Anstice's cigar was smoked out; but there was one question he must ask before he took his leave.

”And her husband--Major Carstairs? He--I gather he was inclined to agree with the verdict?”

Sir Richard hesitated, and when he spoke there was a note of pain in his voice.