“Thank God!” came from under Miss Hansford’s breath, as Jack made no sign that he had heard, or sign of any sort for several minutes, when there was the faintest possible whisper:
“Elithe, I tried my best and failed.”
They were his last words, and Elithe felt the hand she held growing colder and clammier as the minutes went by, and there was no sound in the room but the ticking of the clock on the mantel and the labored breathing, which grew more and more labored and slow until, just as the day was breaking over the sea and the white sails were coming into sight, it ceased entirely and Jack was dead.
Elithe knew it first and rose to her feet, tottering a little from the cramped position she had been in so long. Paul put out a hand to steady her, but Miss Hansford was before him. She could bear the suspense no longer, and, taking Elithe by the arm, she said: “Where did you know Jack Percy?”
“In Samona, as Mr. Pennington; never as Mr. Percy,” was Elithe’s reply, as she left the room, and, going to her chamber, threw herself upon her bed, half crazed with all she had passed through.
Clarice fainted, and when she recovered Miss Hansford said to Paul: “Take Clarice home. She is better with her mother.”
She wanted to get him away, although she knew he was going from one danger into another. There would be as many questions asked at the Percy cottage as at her own, where people were beginning to gather, coming from every direction, some up the avenue, some across the bridge and the causeway and some across the open space where she had hunted in the darkness for the revolver.
“Somebody is sure to find it,” she thought, and watched from the kitchen door all who came that way. “There! God help us!” she moaned, as she saw a man stoop down and pick up something, which he examined carefully. She knew what it was, and went to meet him, holding out her hand. “Give it to me,” she said, and he gave it to her,—a little silver-mounted revolver with “P. R.” engraved upon it.
She knew he had seen the lettering and said to him: “It is a mistake, which will be explained. Don’t say you found it.”
The man bowed and did not reply. Covering the telltale witness with her apron, Miss Hansford took it to the house, and, hiding it in a deep chest in the back chamber where she kept her bed linen, went down to meet the people who were talking of the inquest, which it was thought best to have at once before the body was removed. It was a hurried, informal affair, held by an incompetent coroner, new to the office and conducting his first case. No one of those who saw Paul go by just before the shooting and heard what Elithe said had spoken. The doctor for whom Elithe had been sent had been hurriedly called away immediately after Jack died. Suicide had been suggested by Paul and Clarice and accepted as highly probable, and a verdict to that effect was rendered with very little discussion. Miss Hansford felt that the matter was finished and Paul was safe. The next moment her spirits fell. They were inquiring for the revolver which did the deed. It must be near where Jack was found, and search must be made for it. Here was a trouble she had not foreseen, and she felt as if her heart would burst as she tried to appear natural and put aside her dread of impending evil. All her lodgers and some of the neighbors had heard Elithe. Sooner or later they were sure to talk, and then a hundred verdicts of suicide would not avail to save Paul from suspicion and possible arrest. If he would only speak out now and tell how it happened he would be believed. Evidently he had no thought of speaking out. He had gone with Clarice without doing so, and she could only pray that no inquiries might be made when the missing weapon was not found.