THE BODY OF LE GAIRE
Miles had stationed a sentry just inside the front door, but he was the only one of our men visible, nearly all of the others being at breakfast in the kitchen. I felt no need of any help however, for Le Gaire was unarmed, and not of a nature to make serious resistance. Besides, if I was mistaken as to his hiding place in the house I preferred making the discovery alone. My exploration during the night had made me familiar with the arrangement of the front rooms, but not the extension to the rear. I stopped, in the silence, at the head of the stairs, to glance about, and decide where I had better begin. Miss Hardy's door was closed, even the transom lowered, and I instantly decided not to disturb her until the very last. Yet I was soldier enough to take the other rooms in rotation, realizing the danger of leaving an enemy in my rear. These were soon disposed of, although I made a close search, disarranging beds, delving into closets, and leaving no nook or corner big enough to conceal a man, unrevealed. I endeavored to accomplish all this quietly, yet must have made some noise, for as I rolled back a bed in the third room entered, I heard the door creak and sprang to my feet to confront Billie. I hardly know which was the more startled, for the girl staggered back, one hand thrown out.
"You! Oh, I thought--" she drew her breath quickly.
"You thought what?"
"Oh, nothing--only I heard the noise, and--and wondered who it could be." She looked about at the confusion. "What--what are you doing? Hunting for some one?"
"A needle in a haystack," I answered, suddenly suspicious that she might know something of the fugitive. "Will you help me search?"
"I--I hardly appreciate your humor," haughtily. "Is--is it Captain Le Gaire?"
"Why do you suspect that, Miss Willifred? Is it because you imagine the man may be here?"
"Because I know he got away; because I know your feeling toward him, your effort to take his life."
"You know! What is all this?" so stunned I could scarcely articulate. "Surely your father--"
"I know of no reason why my father should be dragged into this affair."
"But he was present; he surely told you what occurred."
"He said the two of you went out to fight; that it was a dishonorable affair. He gave me no particulars, and I asked none--I already knew what had taken place."
"Then you have seen Le Gaire since--is that so?"
She turned her back toward me, and stepped into the hall. The action was defiant, almost insulting.
"Miss Willifred, I insist on an answer."
"Indeed," carelessly, "to what?"
"To my question--have you seen Le Gaire since?"
"I refuse to tell you."
It was an instant before I found my voice, or could control my words. This was all most confusing, and yet the light was coming. Here was the secret of her sudden dislike for me. Her hand was already upon the knob of her own door, and she did not so much as glance back. What could I say? What ought I to say? Beyond doubt, uncertain as to her real feelings toward Le Gaire, Hardy had not revealed to her the fellow's disgraceful action. Some way, his brief explanation had merely served to confirm her previous opinion that the captain had been the one injured--such an impression she could have derived only from Le Gaire. It was equally clear I could not explain. She would scarcely believe any effort to defend myself. Why should she think me capable of a dastardly act? Why believe Le Gaire's hasty lie, and refuse me even a hearing? The thought left me so indignant that for the moment I felt indifferent even to her good opinion.
"Well, Miss Hardy," I said at last, conscious my voice trembled, "I am going to find this man if he is in the house, even if the search takes me to your own room."
"Then begin there," and she stood aside, the door flung open. "It must require great bravery to hunt down an unarmed man."
"I only know you are going to regret those words when you learn the truth. There is a mistake here, but one others must rectify. Your actions merely confirm my belief that Le Gaire sought refuge in this building. I am going to know before I withdraw my men."
She was not quite so defiant, not quite so certain, yet she did not move.
"Will you tell me--has he been here?"
"Why do you want to know?"
I hesitated, not really knowing myself, suddenly made aware that I had no true purpose in the search. My embarrassment confirmed her suspicion.
"Revenge, wasn't it?" scornfully. "A desire to complete the work begun yonder. I'll answer if you wish me to. Captain Le Gaire came here to me wounded, and seeking shelter. I helped him as I would any Confederate soldier. But he is not here now--see, the room is empty; yes, search it for yourself."
It was useless arguing, useless denying--the girl was in a state of mind which no assertions of mine could combat.
"Then where is he now?"
"I have no means of knowing--safely away from the house, I hope. I--I left him here when I went down stairs; when I came back he was gone."
"And you say he was wounded?"
"Certainly--you ought to know, the blow of an assassin, not a soldier."
She looked straight at me, her cheeks red, her eyes burning with indignation. Then, as though she could bear my presence no longer, she swept into the room, and closed the door in my face. It was an action of such utter contempt that I actually staggered back, grasping the rail of the stair. What in the name of Heaven had gained possession of the girl? What infernal lie had been told her? By all the gods, I would find Le Gaire, and choke the truth out of him. My head ached yet with the blow he had dealt me, but this hurt worse. I had a reason now for running the man down. Wherever he had gone, even into the Confederate camp, I vowed I would follow. But first the house: I could conceive of no way in which he could have gotten out--there was a guard in front, and I had locked the rear door. I went at the task deliberately, coolly, determined to overlook nothing. There was something of value at stake now, and my mind was as busy as my hands and eyes. How did he ever succeed in getting to Billie? I had locked her door, and taken away the key. It was not until I invaded the last room on the main floor that I solved this riddle--the two apartments formed a suite with connecting door between. However he was not there now, and all that remained to search was the servants' ell.
The hallway narrowed, and was lower by a single step, the back stairs at the left. There was no window, and with all the doors closed, I could see down only a portion of the way. The hallway itself was gloomy, the shade of the rear window being closely drawn. This, with the stillness all about, enabled me to hear the voices of the men in the kitchen below, and to become aware that the firing, sounding from a distance since early morning, seemed now much closer at hand. It was not altogether artillery any longer, but I could plainly distinguish the volleys of musketry. What could this signify? Were the Confederates being forced back? If so would the Hardy house be caught in the maelstrom of retreat? The possibility of such a result only made haste more imperative. There were three doors at the right, and two opposite. I opened these cautiously, half expecting Le Gaire to dash out, with any weapon he might have secured, desperate enough to fight hard. But nothing occurred, the rooms showed no sign of having been lately occupied. I was at the one next to the last when a board creaked somewhere behind me, and I wheeled about instantly, and ran back to the head of the stairs. There was nothing visible, and a glance down the front hall proved it also deserted--only the door of Miss Willifred's room stood slightly ajar. She was watching me then, fearful lest the fellow had failed to get away. This discovery added to my anxiety, and my anger. He should not get away--not if I could prevent it--until he confessed to her the truth. I ran back into the ell, fearful now that he had escaped through a window, yet determined to examine that last room. There was a rag carpet along the back hall, and, in the semi-darkness, I tripped, falling heavily forward, striking the floor with a crash, my revolver flying from my hand, and hitting the side wall. I was on my knees in an instant, thoughtless of everything except that I had come into contact with a body. The shock numbed me, nor could my fingers alone solve the mystery. I sprang erect, and threw open the nearest side door, permitting the light to stream in. Then I saw the man's face, upturned, lifeless--the face of Gerald Le Gaire. It seemed to me I could not move, could not even breathe, as I stared down at the motionless form. Then I touched his wrist, feeling for a pulse which had ceased to beat. A noise at my back caused me to start, and glance behind. Billie stood at the end of the narrow hall.
"What is it? Have--have you killed him?"
I whirled, facing her, indignant at the words, and yet understanding as swiftly the reason for her suspicions.
"It is Captain Le Gaire. I have just found him lying here."
"Found him! Yes, but not lying there; I heard the noise, the fall of his body. Is--is he dead?"
She stood grasping the stair-rail, shrinking back from closer approach, her white face horror-stricken. I drew a quick breath, fairly quivering under the sting of her words.
"Yes, he is dead, Miss Hardy," I said, knowing I must end the suspense, "but not by my hand. I tripped and fell in the darkness, causing the noise you heard. I am going to ask you to return to your room; you can be of no service here. I will have your father and Captain Bell help me with the body."
She never moved, her eyes on my face.
"Then--then will you permit my father to come to me?"
"Certainly--perhaps we will know then how this occurred."
"Is that your revolver lying there?"
I had forgotten the weapon, but perceived it now, on the floor just beyond Le Gaire's head.
"Yes, it was dropped when I fell," I took a step toward her. "You will go back, will you not?"
She seemed to shrink from my approach, and moved backward, still facing me, until she came to her own door. There she remained a moment, clinging to the knob, but as I emerged into the full light of the front hall, she stepped into the room, and closed the door. Some way, her action hurt me worse than any words could have done, yet I walked past to the stairs in silence, and called to the guard below.
Miles came up with the two Confederates, and a dozen words of explanation sufficed. Together we picked up the body, bore it into a near-by room, and placed it upon the bed. The man had been struck back of the ear, apparently by the butt of a revolver or the stock of a gun, the skull crushed. Death had been instantaneous; possibly he never knew what hit him. We examined the wound, and then looked into each others' faces utterly unable to account for the condition.
"By Gad, I don't see how he ever got that," said Hardy. "Nor this ugly cut here on the forehead. What do you make out of it, Galesworth?"
I shook my head, thoroughly mystified.
"I've told you all I know; he was lying there in the open when I found him--there was nothing he could have struck against in falling."
"That was a blow struck him," insisted the sergeant, "either by a square-handled pistol, or a carbine stock. I've seen that sorter thing before; but who the hell ever hit him?"
No one attempted to answer. Then I said,
"The only thing I have noticed which might be a clue is this: when I first came in through the kitchen I discovered a clod of fresh clay dirt on the back stairs. I supposed it had dropped from Le Gaire's boots. But there's no sign of yellow clay on his boots now. It must have been some one else."
"Trailin' the poor devil," ejaculated Miles. "But who was he? An' where is he now?"
None attempted a guess, looking blankly into each others' faces, and down upon the ghastly features of the dead man. We were all accustomed to death, and in terrible form, but this was different, this held a horror all its own. I could hear the heavy breathing, we stood so motionless.
"Major Hardy,"--and it was like sacrilege to break the silence,--"we can never clear the mystery standing here. I've examined every room on this floor, and there is not so much as a rat in any of them. Whoever the murderer was, he has either got away, or is hidden on some other floor--is there an attic?"
"Yes, but with no stairs; the only way to get there is by the kitchen roof. What do you propose to do?"
"Take a moment and see if I can think it out," I said, drawing a sheet up over the dead face. "There must be some simple way to account for all this if we can only get on the right trail. Come, gentlemen."
We passed out together, and stopped in front of the closed door. The firing without was growing so much heavier that all noticed it, Bell striding to the end of the hall, and thrusting his head out of the window. Still it was not close enough as yet to be alarming, and my thought was upon other things.
"Major, I wish you would go in and speak to your daughter," I said. "I told her you would come and tell her all you knew."
I watched him cross to the door, knock, and enter.