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You would make him out a Cagliostro or something worse. Miss Van Arsdale, I fear your theory will topple over of its own weight." He was very patient with me; he did not show me the door. "Yet such a substitution took place, and took place that evening," I insisted. "The bit of paste shown us at the inquest was never the gem Mrs. Fairbrother wore on entering the alcove.
"Had n't you better make up some sort of a story for them in there?" asked Saul, with a jerk of his head towards the house. "That's so," answered Donaldson. "Will you trust me for a few minutes?" "Take your time," said Saul. Donaldson went back up the path and found both Arsdale and his sister in the library. "I 'll have to ask you to excuse me for to-night," he said.
The point is, Arsdale, the point is, that all by himself a man is n't worth much. He does n't count. Either he dries up or he rots." "That's true! That's true!" answered Arsdale. "And I 've rotted. If only I had found you a year ago!" "A year ago is dead and buried. Let it alone. Think of the live things; think of the Now!
So saying, he kissed the king's hand, and was retiring, when be remembered his kinsman, whose humble interests in the midst of more exciting topics he had hitherto forgotten, and added, "May I crave, since you are so merciful to the Lancastrians, one grace for my namesake, a Nevile whose father repented the side he espoused, a son of Sir Guy of Arsdale?"
"If I get an extra cot for the shack, Miss Van Arsdale," he asked, "could you get your things and come over here to stay?" "Certainly." "I won't be treated like a child!" cried the derelict in exactly the tone of one, and a very naughty one. "I won't! I won't!" She stamped. Banneker laughed. "You're a coward," said Io. Miss Van Arsdale laughed. "I'll go to the hotel in the town and stay there."
Just outside the radius of warmth the bookbindings shone gold in the dark. In a frame six inches deep the ghostly outlines of a portrait of Horace Arsdale flickered near and away as the flames rose and fell. Miss Arsdale came to a chair a little to the left of Donaldson, brushing back from her eyes the soft hair which in the firelight shone like burnished copper.
Through an uncurtained door to the right opened what appeared to be a library, while to the left Donaldson turned his back for a moment upon Arsdale. And the man, freed from the eyes, threw himself upon Donaldson's shoulder. The woman shouted a warning, but it was too late. She clutched at her brother's clothes, pulling with all her strength, crying, "Ben! Ben!"
We won't even need a loose-jointed confession, because we caught him black-handed. But my guess wasn't such a bad one it was n't Arsdale, but it was Jacques Moisson, his father's valet." "Jacques Moisson?" "The son of that old crone Marie there. He caught the dope habit evidently from his master and has been to the bad ever since Arsdale senior died.
Miss Van Arsdale dismounted, replacing a short-barreled shot-gun in its saddle-holster, stepped from the trail, and presently returned carrying a brace of plump, slate-gray birds. "Wild dove," she said, stroking them. "You'll find them a welcome addition to a meager bill of fare." "I should be quite content with whatever you usually have." "Doubted," replied the other.
The man who had done those things was outside the pale of the law; he was no more. Arsdale himself, Arsdale the clean-minded young man with a useful life before him, Arsdale with his new soul, had no more to do with those black deeds than he himself had. Yet that lumbering Juggernaut, the Law, could not take this into account. The Law did not deal with souls, but bodies.
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