Part 13 (1/2)

”I beg your pardon,” I said, ”but the name struck me. Miss Lawrence's maid is named Kingdon.”

”Yes; she's a niece of Mrs. Endicott. I've sometimes thought that it was because of this relations.h.i.+p that Mrs. Lawrence was so kind to her and to her sister.”

”Kind to them?” I repeated. ”In what way?”

”She gave them the cottage they live in,” he explained, ”and has helped them in many other ways. The younger girl, Lucy, has a place in her household, where her duties, I fancy, are purely nominal. Her sister is supposed to take in sewing, but she really does very little.”

”And they are Mrs. Endicott's nieces?”

”Yes-her sister's children.”

”And Boyd Endicott's cousins?”

”Precisely.”

I felt a little glow of excitement, for here was a clue which might lead me out of the labyrinth-a loose end, which, grasped firmly, might serve to unravel this tangled skein.

”Please go on,” I said. ”You have not yet told me what became of Mrs. Endicott and her daughter.”

”They made their home with Mrs. Kingdon, who was also a widow. Mrs. Kingdon had had much trouble-her husband had died in an asylum for the insane-and they had a hard time to get along. But Mrs. Endicott died within a year.”

”And Ruth?” I questioned.

”Ruth was a lovely girl-I shall never forget her-with the same dark, pa.s.sionate beauty her brother had. She possessed artistic talent which seemed to me of an unusual order, and she fancied that she could make a living by painting portraits. But she soon found that there was no market for her work here in Elizabeth, and that she needed years of training before she could hope to be successful elsewhere. So she was forced to give it up.”

”And then?” I prompted, for I saw by his hesitation that there was still something coming, and I was determined to have the whole story.

”I have already told you that Mr. Lawrence was a widower. His first wife was an invalid for a long time before her death, and when Ruth Endicott found she could not make a living with her brush, she accepted the position of companion to Mrs. Lawrence. I do not fancy the place was a pleasant one, but she kept it until Mrs. Lawrence's death.”

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for an instant in the effort to straighten out this story, which was always turning back upon itself. What mystery was there-what mystery could there be-in the lives of the Kingdons and the Lawrences and the Endicotts, which had led up to the tragedy for which I was seeking an explanation?

”Well, and after that?” I asked, giving it up with a sigh of despair and turning back to the clergyman.

”There isn't much more to tell. After Mrs. Lawrence's death, Ruth Endicott remained for a time as Lawrence's housekeeper. But she had overworked herself-she seemed the very embodiment of health, and taxed her strength too heavily. She broke down very suddenly, and died, if I remember rightly, in Florida, where the elder Kingdon girl had taken her. She was the last of the Endicotts.”

”The last of the Endicotts. The last of the Endicotts.” I repeated the words over and over to myself. It may have been a presentiment, or merely an idle fancy, but something whispered in my ear-some impalpable presence warned me-that I had not yet heard the last of her. ”Ruth Endicott.” There was a something in the name-a melody, the vision it evoked of a dark and brilliantly beautiful woman-which haunted me.

And yet, what possible connection could she have with the mystery which I had started to investigate? Thirty years dead-how could any fact connected with her drive Marcia Lawrence forth into hiding at the hour of her wedding? The utter absurdity of the thought was so apparent that I put it impatiently from me.

”You knew Mr. Lawrence, of course?” I asked, at last.

”Oh, yes,” and he hitched uneasily in his chair, as though approaching an unwelcome topic. ”But I did not know him well. He was what the world calls a hard man-somewhat harsh and cold, though perfectly free from positive vice. He was thoroughly respected.”

”He seems to have left a large property.”

”Yes; one of the largest in Elizabeth. Mrs. Lawrence, of course, inherited her father's, also.”

”Both she and her daughter are members of your church?”

”Two of the most faithful. They give largely to charity; they are really Christian women.”