The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [209]
There was a knock, and she called 'Come in,' drawing herself up with an unconscious gesture that always came when she realized that the weariness of the world had been gaining upon her spirit. Mr Trent had called, the maid said; he apologized for coming at such an early hour, but hoped that Mrs Manderson would see him on a matter of urgent importance. Mrs Manderson would see Mr Trent. She walked to a mirror, looked into the olive face she saw reflected there, shook her head at herself with the flicker of a grimace, and turned to the door as Trent was shown in.
His appearance, she noted, was changed. He had the jaded look of the sleepless, and a new and reserved expression, in which her quick sensibilities felt something not propitious, took the place of his half smile of fixed good-humour.
'May I come to the point at once?' he said, when she had given him her hand. 'There is a train I ought to catch at Bishopsbridge at twelve o'clock, but I cannot go until I have settled this thing, which concerns you only, Mrs Manderson. I have been working half the night and thinking the rest; and I know now what I ought to do.'
'You look wretchedly tired,' she said kindly. 'Won't you sit down? This is a very restful chair. Of course it is about this terrible business and your work as correspondent. Please ask me anything you think I can properly tell you, Mr Trent. I know that you won't make it worse for me than you can help in doing your duty here. If you say you must see me about something, I know it must be because, as you say, you ought to do it.'
'Mrs Manderson,' said Trent, slowly measuring his words, 'I won't make it worse for you than I can help. But I am bound to make it bad for you--only between ourselves, I hope. As to whether you can properly tell me what I shall ask you, you will decide that; but I tell you this on my word of honour: I shall ask you only as much as will decide me whether to publish or to withhold certain grave things that I have found out about your husband's death, things not suspected by any one else, nor, I think, likely to be so. What I have discovered--what I believe that I have practically proved--will be a great shock to you in any case. But it may be worse for you than that; and if you give me reason to think it would be so, then I shall suppress this manuscript,' he laid a long envelope on the small table beside him, 'and nothing of what it has to tell shall ever be printed. It consists, I may tell you, of a short private note to my editor, followed by a long dispatch for publication in the Record. Now you may refuse to say anything to me. If you do refuse, my duty to my employers, as I see it, is to take this up to London with me today and leave it with my editor to be dealt with at his discretion. My view is, you understand, that I am not entitled to suppress it on the strength of a mere possibility that presents itself to my imagination. But if I gather from you--and I can gather it from no other person- -that there is substance in that imaginary possibility I speak of, then I have only one thing to do as a gentleman and as one who'--he hesitated for a phrase-- 'wishes you well. I shall not publish that dispatch of mine. In some directions I decline to assist the police. Have you followed me so far?' he asked with a touch of anxiety in his careful coldness; for her face, but for its pallor, gave no sign as she regarded him, her hands clasped before her, and her shoulders drawn back in a pose of rigid calm. She looked precisely as she had looked at the inquest.
'I understand quite well,' said Mrs Manderson in a low voice. She drew a deep breath, and went on: 'I don't know what dreadful thing you have found out, or what the possibility that has occurred to you can be,