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Updated: June 11, 2025
I had not wanted any invitations to family festivities on Christmas Day to "keep me from being lonely." My desire had been to go exactly where the whim of the moment might lead me, and without a moment's hesitation I had declined the invitation to "Christmas dinner" which poor Farnham had dragged for me from his friend, Carson Wildred.
He was something of an architect himself, it seemed this rich Mr. Wildred; at all events, it was believed that he had made the designs for the alterations, and having a great fad that way, had even helped the chaps he had had down from London to do the indoor work and decorating.
I think, too, that circumstances have given me the right to be inquisitive, as I can still further explain to you later on. Is Miss Cunningham going to marry Carson Wildred to save you from any unpleasant consequences of the past, for instance?" He started as though he had been struck. "She is not going to marry Carson Wildred!" he exclaimed. "Oh, yes, she is, unless it can be prevented.
The fact is, I fancy there's a fair lady in the case. But he did say something about looking you up at the Savoy, if he had time, and as trains are bad to-day, he meant to spend the night in town." As Wildred went volubly on with his apologies and explanations, I did not take my eyes from his face.
"Quick! there will only be a moment, I know, for they will see that I have gone, and will soon find me here." Without any preface I came straight to the asking of the bald, crude question which was in my mind to ask. "For the sake of our friendship, Miss Cunningham, forgive me, and tell me whether you love Carson Wildred?"
I set down my glass untouched. A cold conviction was growing within me that I had been mistaken; that, villain as Carson Wildred was, he had not, after all, been guilty of the one great crime which I had attributed to him. It seemed almost impossible that this keen-eyed man, accustomed to Farnham's comings and goings for several years, could have mistaken another for him.
Of course she's a great heiress, but the man must be blind and paralysed who couldn't fall in love with Karine Cunningham for herself; and however he gets it, Carson Wildred has no lack of money of his own." "How does gossip say he gets it?" I went on to enquire with eagerness which I concealed as best I could. "Oh, gossip doesn't trouble itself much in that way!" Driscoll laughed.
The servant was secured, but Wildred, seeing with his usual quickness that all hope of escape was over, had shot himself through the heart before the officers could reach him. It was not for many a day after that night's terrible experience that I heard all the truth.
Again I got Wildred down, but the other man was on top of me, and for the second time I felt the burning pain, this time in my shoulder. I fought like a mad creature now, with the intent to kill, which I had not had before; but the conviction grew within me that, battle as I might, the effort would be all in vain. Sparks danced before my eyes, and then everything grew dim.
I could not resist looking up after all to watch him in the act of reading it, and as I did so my eyes caught a gleam from his, under the green shade, as they turned to my face with an expression that was like a hunted animal's. In the instant I was as positive as though he had told me in so many words that the cablegram he had received was from Carson Wildred, and intimately concerned me.
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