The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [3842]
_"'Perish with the room whose ceiling oozes blood! If in time to come any man reads these lines, he will know why I pulled down the encircling wall built by my father, and why I raised a new one across this end of the pavilion.'"_
Mrs. Ocumpaugh's eyes opened wide in horror.
"Blood!" she repeated. "A ceiling oozing blood!"
"An old superstition, Mrs. Ocumpaugh, quite unworthy your attention at this moment. Do not let your mind dwell upon that portion of what I have read, but on the word '_room_'. 'Perish with the room!' We know what room was meant; there can be but one. I have myself seen the desk from which these sheets were undoubtedly taken--and for them to be in the hand of a certain person argues--" Mrs. Ocumpaugh's hand went up in dissuasion, but I relentlessly finished--"that she has been in that room! Are you more than convinced of this now? Are you sure?"
She did not need to make reply; eyes and attitude spoke for her. But it was the look and attitude of despair, not hope. Evidently she had the very greatest reason to fear Mrs. Carew, who possibly had her hard side as well as her charming one.
To ease the situation, I spoke what was in both our minds.
"I see that you are sure. That makes my duty very plain, Mrs. Ocumpaugh. My next visit must be upon Mrs. Carew."
The spirit which, from the beginning of this later interview, had infused fresh strength into her feeble frame, seemed to forsake her at this simple declaration; her whole form drooped, and the eyes, which had rested on mine, turned in their old way to the river.
I took advantage of this circumstance.
"Some one who knows you well, who knows the child well, dropped the wrong shoe into the river."
A murmur, nothing more, from Mrs. Ocumpaugh's set lips.
"Could it--I do not say that it was--I don't see any reason why it should be--but could it have been Mrs. Carew?"
Not a sound this time, not a sound.
"She was down at the dock that night. Did you know it?"
A gesture, but whether of assent or dissent I could not tell.
"We know of no other person who was there but the men employed."
_"What do you know?"_
With all her restraint gone--a suffering and despairing woman, Mrs. Ocumpaugh was on her knees, grasping my arm with both hands.
"Quit this torture! tell me that you know it all and leave me to--to--die!"
"Madam!"
I was confounded; and as I looked at her face, strained back in wild appeal, I was more than confounded, I was terrified.
"Madam, what does this mean? Are you--you--"
"Lock the door!" she cried; "no one must come in here now. I have said so much that I must say more. Listen and be my friend; oh, be my friend! _Those were my footsteps you saw in the bungalow. It was I who carried Gwendolen into that secret hole._"
XXI
PROVIDENCE
Had I suspected this? Had all my efforts for the last half-hour been for the purpose of entrapping her into some such avowal? I do not know. My own feelings at the time are a mystery to me; I blundered on, with a blow here and a blow there, till I hit this woman in a vital spot, and achieved the above mentioned result.
I was not happy when I reached it. I felt no elation; scarcely any relief. It all seemed so impossible. She marked the signs of incredulity in my face and spoke up quickly, almost sharply:
"You do not believe me. I will prove the truth of what I say. Wait--wait!"--and running to a closet, she pulled out a drawer--where was her weakness now?--and brought from it a pair of soiled white slippers. "If the house had been ransacked," she proceeded pantingly, "these would have told their own tale. I was shocked when I saw their condition, and kept my guests waiting till I changed them. Oh, they will fit the footprints." Her smile was ghastly. Softly she set the shoes down. "Mrs. Carew helped me;