“Still, I am convinced that something was on his mind. I tried to approach him concerning it, but he was evasive, and put me off, laughingly. You know that father was not the sort of man whose confidence could be forced even by those dearest to him. I had been so worried about him, though, that I had a nervous headache, and after you left, Ramon, I retired at once. An hour or two later, father had a visitor––that fact as you know, the coroner elicited from the servants, but it had, of course, no bearing on his death, since the caller was Mr. Rockamore. I heard his voice when I opened the door of my room, after ringing for my maid to get some lavender salts. I could not sleep, my headache grew worse; and while I was struggling against it, I heard Mr. Rockamore depart, and my father’s voice in the hall, after the slamming of the front door, telling 10 Wilkes to retire, that he would need him no more that night. I heard the butler’s footsteps pass down the hall, and then I rose and opened my door again. I don’t know why, but I felt that I wanted to speak to father when he came up on his way to bed.”
Anita paused, and Ramon, in spite of himself, felt a thrill of puzzled wonder at her expression, upon which a dawning look, almost of horror, spread and grew.
“But he did not come, and after a while I stole to the head of the stairs and looked down. There was a low light in the hall and a brighter one from the library, the door of which was ajar. I supposed that father was working late over some papers, and I knew that I must not disturb him. I crept back to bed at last, with a sigh, but left my own door slightly open, so that if I should happen to be awake when he passed, I might call to him.
“Presently, however, I dozed off. I don’t know how long I slept, but I awakened to hear voices––angry voices, my father’s and another, which I did not recognize. I got up and by the night-light I saw that the hands of the little clock on my dresser pointed to nearly three o’clock. I could not imagine who would call on father so very late at night, and I feared at first it might be a burglar, but my common sense assured me that father would not stop to parley with a burglar. While I stood wondering, father raised his voice slightly, and I caught one word which he uttered. Ramon, that word sounded to me like ‘blackmail!’ Why, what is it? Why do you look at me so strangely?” she added hastily, at his uncontrollable start.
“I? I am not looking at you strangely, dear; it is not possible that you could have heard aright. It must 11 have been simply a fancy of yours, born of the state of your nerves. You could not really have understood.” But Ramon Hamilton looked away from her as he spoke, with a peculiarly significant gleam in his candid eyes. After a slight pause he went on: “No one in the world could have attempted to blackmail your father. He was the soul of honor and integrity, as no one knows better than you. Why, his opinion was sought on every public question. You remember hearing of some of the political honors which he repeatedly refused, but he could, had he wished, have held the highest office at the disposal of the people. You must have been mistaken, Anita. There has never been a reason for the word ‘blackmail’ to cross your father’s lips.”
“I know that I was not mistaken, for I heard more––enough to convince me that I had been right in my surmise! Father was keeping something from me!”
“Dear little girl, suppose he had been? Nothing, of course, that could possibly reflect upon his integrity,––don’t misunderstand me––but you are only twenty, you know. It is not to be expected that you could quite comprehend the details of all the varied business interests of a man who had virtually led the finances of his country for more than twenty years. Perhaps it was a purely business matter.”
“I tell you, Ramon, that that man, whoever he was, actually dared to threaten father. When I heard that word ‘blackmail’ in the angriest tones which I had ever heard my father use, I did something mean, despicable, which only my culminating anxiety could have induced me to do. I slipped on my robe and slippers, stole half-way downstairs and listened deliberately.”
“Anita, you should not have done that! It was not like you to do so. If your father had wished you to 12 know of this interview, don’t you think he would have told you?”
“Perhaps he would have, but what opportunity was he given? A few hours later, he was found dead in that chair over there; the chair in which he sat while he was talking with his unknown visitor.”