And was Jason that? If it were so, I could afford to stand aside for the present and leave him to the mercy of a deadlier Nemesis he had summoned to his own undoing.
Set coldly, at the same time, on a justice that should be passionless, I bore in mind my brother’s hint of a suspicion that involved some other person whom he left nameless. This might be—probably was—a mere ruse to throw me off the scent. In any case I should refuse to hold him acquitted in the absence of directer evidence.
Still I could not stay a certain speculative wandering of my thoughts. If not Jason—who then? There were in the house that night but the usual family circle and Dr. Crackenthorpe. What possible temptation could induce any one of them to a deed so horrible? Jason alone of them had the temptation and the interest, and, above all, the nature to act upon a hideous impulse. On Jason must lie the suspicion till he could prove himself innocent.
It was not until about the third night of my gloomy pondering that the sudden resolution was formed in me to leave everything and return to my father. The fact of Zyp’s reference to the letter he had sent me had been so completely absorbed in the tense excitement of the last few days that when in a moment it recurred to me I leaped to my feet and began pacing the room like a caged animal that scents freedom.
So the old man in his loneliness desired me back again. Why not go? The accustomed life here seemed impossible to me any longer. The notoriety attaching to these pitiful proceedings was already making my regular attendance at the office a sore trial. Duke had sent in his resignation the very morning of his attack on me before Jason’s house. All old ties were rent and done with. I was, in a modest way, financially independent, for Ripley’s generous acknowledgment of my services, coupled with my own frugal manner of life, had enabled me to put into certain investments sufficient to produce an interest that would keep me, at least, from starvation.
And, in addition, how could I prosecute my secret inquiries better than on the very scene of the deed? I would go. My decision was sudden and final. I would go.
Then and there I sat down and wrote a brief letter to my father.
“I have only within the last few days,” I said, “learned of the letter you wrote me three months ago. Jason destroyed it lest I should find out he was married to Zyp. I now tell you that I am ready to do as you wish—to return and live with you, if you still desire it. In any case, I can endure my present life here no longer. Upon receipt of a word from you I will come.”
As I wrote, the wind, bringing clouds of rain with it, was booming and thundering against the window. Soft weather had succeeded to the ice-breathing blasts of a few days back, and I thought of a lonely grave out there in the night of London, and of how just now the water must be gushing in veins and runnels over its clayey barrow.
Dolly—Dolly! May it wash clean your poor wounded heart. “After life’s fitful fever” you sleep well; while we—oh, shamed and fallen child! Which of us who walks straightly before our fellows would not forego passion and revenge, and all the hot raptures of this blood-red world, to lie down with you deep in the cool, sweet earth and rest and forget?