CHAPTER XXVI
THE CIPHER SOLVED
Chaya's ante-mortem statement, properly attested by Dr. Larrimer, Dr. De Breen, the hospital secretary, and myself, together with the otherwise complete case I had, was sufficient of course to open the prison doors for Royal Maillot. It should also have lifted the cloud from Alfred Fluette; but, alas! it did not.
To make my story end as all well-conditioned stories ought to end, I should here be able to wave my wand, or invoke some good genie, or however it is that the writer-folk bestow happiness at a stroke upon the helpless creatures whom they have been ruthlessly dragging through a sea of trial and tribulation, and show you the actors in my own drama transported with joy. But I am recording what actually happened. It was a strange fatality that cast itself into the lives of these people. They were dismayed, overwhelmed, rendered helpless, left uncomprehending. However much I may desire to do so, therefore, I can not twist the truth to give my own story precisely the ending that you or I might desire it to have.
As for myself, I couldn't carry the news fast enough to Maillot and to Mr. Fluette, and to Belle and Genevieve. My enthusiasm met its first damper when the cell door swung open, and the young fellow walked out a free man. It is true that his gratitude was immeasurable; he could find no words to express it, and he wrung my hand until—strong man that I am—I had to tear away from him.
But after his elation had time to cool, he grew morose and gloomy; he was more inclined to cling to what he had gone through, than to accept the extremely satisfactory assurance that he stood clear and as far above suspicion as Caesar's wife.
"No use talking, Swift," he responded to my attempts to rally him out of his humor; "the taint will stick to me. People will say I 'm the fellow who was arrested for killing his uncle so that he could inherit his fortune. They 'll always point me out and shake their heads and say I was released only because the police couldn't find evidence to convict me. I hope to Heaven the old man made a will giving all his money to charity."
"Faugh!" Such morbid talk was thoroughly exasperating. "Mr. Fluette had a much narrower escape than you did."
"Perhaps," he admitted heavily. "But nobody knows it outside of you and his family. I can't go to Belle with the odor of prison clinging to me. And what's more, I sha'n't."