A hard knot; a novel

Front matter

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

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Chapter I. A Secret

John Hadden occupied a modest-looking house, to which he had removed on first entering on possession of his small fortune. His household consisted of two persons — a housekeeper, Mrs. Greig, whose husband had been a moulder, and had been accidentally killed in the foundry; the second person was a smart maid-of-allwork.

To this couple the behavior and pursuits of their mnster were not a little mysterious, and became the subject of much curiosity. Mrs. Greig, especially, was eager to know how he occupied himself; but he had cleverly foiled every effort she had made to pry into his secret, apparently finding amusement in outwitting her, and either being too kind to find fault with her for a propensity which he admitted to be a general failing of her sex, or finding the amusement too good to think of parting with her.

. Mrs. Greig always asked, when she handed him his hat, where was he going, and when would he return. To these questions she always received the same answer: “I don’t know.”

He would walk out with a chuckling, genial smile, and return, perhaps, in half an hour, perhaps not for a week, or even a month. In either case he stepped up to the door with the same smile on his lips as when he had gone out, and a general J:)earing of having just been round the corner for a few minutes.

At home his manner was quiet and observant. Nothing escaped him, and Mrs. Greig declared that “the auld man” would reckon the hairs of one’s head like a'flash of lightning. He spent his time chiefly in his library, which was the front room, and which served him for every purpose save a sleeping-chamber.

Two sides of the room were covered with books. One side was occupied by a large, old-fashioned cabinet, in the under part of which he had placed a small safe, and by the window stood a writing-table. The cabinet and the drawers of the table were filled with papers; but these were kept with unusual order — every packet dock eted and arranged according to date; and everything was locked up, save when he was in the room himself.

There was a thick, morocco-bound book in which Mrs, Greig often saw him writing; and, perhaps because it was the particular book which he took especial care to lock up in the safe, that was the very work the housekeeper was most anxious to read. She had never obtained an opportunity, however; and all that she had been able to learn of her master’s ways out of doors was that he frequently visited Mrs. Burnett, an officer’s xvidow, who lived with her daughter in Hill Street. Mrs. Greig’s conclusions were neither very generous as regarded her master, nor very respectful as regarded Mrs. Burnett and her daughter.

“Ye hae come hame,” said Mrs. Greig, opening the door for him with a half-injured, half-inquisitive expression.

He invariably received the same salutation and the same look, whether he had been out five minutes or five days. He nodded, and, with an unusually preoccupied air, passed into his room. The housekeeper followed, complaining that he had been letting his dinner get “cauld.”

“ Bring it in as it is,” he said, opening the cabinet, and then the safe, forgetting to take off his hat.

JVIrs. Greig proceeded to obey, and on her return, followed by the handmaid Betty, carrying a large tray, they found him seated at his desk, busily writing in that particular morocco-bound book which he guarded with so much care. His hat was still on.

Betty gaped, and Avas properly reprimanded by Mrs. Greig for her ill-manners ; but while they Avere engaged arranging the dishes on the centre-table the good Avoman more than once peered at her master and the book. He wrote a small, angular calligraphy, however, which Avould have troubled Mrs. Greig to read even had she been permitted to hold the open pages in her hand.

Everything Avas ready, she told him, but he did not seem to hear. She Avaited nearly ten minutes, during which he went on Avri i ig.

She laid her big hand on his shoulder, taking advantage at the same time to stare at the book and give him a shake.

“ Ye’ll let it grow cauld again.”

“ No, I haven’t got it ; but it’s a child — ”

“A what ?”

He looked up Avith his amused grin, and closed the book. He was roused from his abstraction.

“A zoological specimen, Mrs. Greig, which you will maybe see at the Botanic Gardens.”

She had a notion that he was quizzing her, but she said nothing. He seated himself briskly, and began to eat as if in a great hurry.

A HARD KNOT.

Almost before he had finished he desired her to take the things away, and not to disturb him again until he rang.

As soon as the door had been closed he resumed his place at the desk, reopened the book, and proceeded to write.

The subject of his composition was a minute detail of every circumstance connected with the murder of a woman named Jean Gorbal, who had been found dead in her house in Port-Dundas. Nothing was omitted. When he had completed his report of everything he had heard, seen, and discovered, he made the following memoranda :

“ 1st. An old gentleman in a brougham.

*‘2d. Two ladies, apparently mother and daughter.

“3d. A young man, railway guard or porter.

“4th. An oldish man, black beard, scowling face, sou’-vc^ester hat, apparently belonging to some coal-boat or coasting collier. Evidently identical with Bob Little, boatman.

“5th. My man — young, tall, elegant, gray kid gloves ; foot, nine inches from heel to toe, outside ; umbrella with .patent ferule.

“6th. Jean Gorbal’s husband, a sailor, said to be drowned ; her son Tom, said to be on board man-of-war.

“7th. Jean Gorbal, deceased, reported to have said, in rtierencc to her income, ‘ If I want more, I can get it where the rest comes from. ’

‘ ‘ The whole thing rests on these words. The woman Gorbal possessed some important secret affecting the character, position, or fortune, or all three combined, of some person or persons of position. She used her power over them, stretched and abused it, and they crushed her.

“ What was the nature of the secret, and how did she come to know it ?

“ In her youth, no doubt, she had been a servant in some wealthy family. While there she discovered, by accident or cunning, the secret. What was it ?

‘ ‘ I begin to see an unhappy family affair — a false wife, probably. That will complicate the matter. It will be necessary to find not only the wife, but also the lover, for it is he who has struck the blow. He has done it cleverly, too, with coolness and calculation. The ignorant man, or the merely cunning man, would have made a slip somewhere by which he might have been trapped ; but this crime has been accomplished with marvellous audacity and prevision.

“ The villain has left nothing to compromise him seriously. Without me. Captain Mactier would have been satisfied with his conclusion that the motive of the crime was robbery. He would have proceeded on that argument, and— missed the mark.”

He ceased writing ; but, still leaning over the book, he gnawed, at the end of his pen, while his brows contracted, and his eyes were half closed, as if he were shutting out the daylight from his brain, that he might look the more keenly inward.

With a subdued ejaculation of pleasure he hastily recommenced writing :

“Yes, there was a child, and here is the stoiy : The woman Jean Gorbal is in the service of a lady, very rich, high position. Her husband is a merchant, contractor, banker, officer in the army or navy — any of them will do ; but he is called away from home, and is absent more than a year. Meanwhile the lady has a lover. She finds herself about to give birth to a child, and she confides in the woman Gorbal. With her help the child is born in secret and conveyed away, so that the mother’s shame and sin may never be known. The secret is well kept,

“What becomes of the child ? They could not have killed it ? No, for Jean Gorbal, as the accomplice of an infanticide, would no longer be a person to fear. The child lives, is confided to her care, and she rears it. Can it be the son Tom ?

“At any rate, the child is taken away from her, but they cannot get from her the proofs of the birth. She has her grasp upon them strong, as if the child were still under her charge. She wants for nothing ; her silence is Avorth a fortune. As she grows old she becomes avaricious. Her demands increase with years ; she becomes troublesome, importunate, unbearable. At last she threatens — for human nature is always the same, and can never be satisfied. Then they say, ‘ We have endured enough ; let us put an end to it all at once, and forever, by removing this woman from our Avay.’

“Here my links join. The gentleman in the brougham — he is the father ; the lady who called with the elegant j'oung lady — she is the mother ; but Avho undertakes to remove the terror ? Not the father, for he is too old. Not the mother, for she Avould have used poison. The daughter ? Impossible ! Who then ?

‘ ‘ The elegant young man Avith the gray kid gloves is interested in the mother or the daughter ; both, probably, for he might be the affianced husband of the daughter, who has an immense fortune, while he has only his Avits to depend on. To save them from disgrace, and to avoid the possible ruin of his OAvn fortune, he takes the matter in hand, kills the woman Gorbal, and burns the proofs of the lady’s sin.”

There Avas an expression of intense gratification on his face as he laid down the pen. He shook some fine-ground glass on the paper to dry it ; he never used blotting-paper— that was an article Avhich he considered serviceable only to those Avho did not care Avhether or not their writing became knoAvn to anybody who took the trouble to examine the blotter. Then he closed the book, and leaned back in

A HARD KNOT.

his chair, witli a long breath of relief, and eyes dancing with pleasure.

“ It’s a sad affair, and a bad affair,” he muttered, frowning ; “but how often within the last few months have I read a similar narrative of a woman wicked or weak, and a man indifferent and a scoundrel, revealed in the Divorce Court. Ugh ! Heaven help us ! we are weak creatures.”

He rose, and locked up the book in the safe, and then locked the cabinet.

“ I’ll not go to Mr. Lyon to-night ; I’ll wait till morning, when I can review it all calmly. I’ll go over to Hill Street, and have a chat with Mrs. Burnett and Sarah. That’ll clear my head, and freshen it for the morning’s work.”

CHAPTER II. THE officer’s WIDOW

Mr, Hadden called loudly to Mrs. Greig for his hat, and the ma^ tron, with much contempt for- his forgetfulness, informed him that he had it on his head. He was profoundly astonished to find that she spoke truly. He grasped his umbrella, and was about to march straight from the house without a word,

“When’ll ye be back ?” demanded Mrs. Greig, as usual.

“I don’t know,” as usual.

“You’ll be back the nicht?”

“ I don’t know.”

He went out, and Mrs. Greig watched him jealously till he turned the corner.

“Hill Street again,” she said. “He’ll be making the officer’s widow Mrs. Hadden one o’ these days, and then I may go.”

She closed the door, and proceeded to scold Betty, the maid, in the broadest dialect, which she only used in its purity when she was in a passion, or speaking familiarly.

Mrs. Burnett, the widow of Lieutenant Burnett, of the 5th Hussars, had for nearly fifteen years occupied the same house in Hill Street with her daughter Sarah. The house was one of the oldest in the street, but was substantial and comfortable. The efforts of active hands and tasteful minds rendered the interior even elegant.

The widow lady had a small fortune, which was sufficient to enable her to live comfortably, and to afford her daughter the best education — which was all she could give her, for she had not sufficient prudence, or she had not sufficient self-denial, to lay by much of her income to provide for her daughter when she died. The in-

A HARD KNOT.

come ceased with her life, and so Sarah’s prospects were not brilliant.

Of this, however, Sarah never seemed to think. She had devoted her life to watchful attendance on her mother, whose every wish she submitted to and endeavored to gratify. Calm, firm, and intelligent, yet gentle and loving, Sarah was the opposite of her mother in character as well as appearance, and from her fifteenth year became the ruling spirit of the house. Her mother was too indolent to interfere, and without a word permitted the whole charge to devolve on her child. ^

Mrs. Burnett was one of those easy-natured women who gladly escape all personal trouble and responsibility. She w^as of fair complexion, l3"mphatic disposition, and had once been a beauty. She retained some of her former charms still, although in her fiftieth year, and was not a little vain of them. Indeed, the one thing in which she really interested herself was dress. That was her principal fault, barring a little peevishness, which was doubtless the result of an enfeebled constitution.

Sarah was, on the contrary, resolute and forbearing in character. In person she was such a contrast to her mother that nobody could have guessed their relationship from their appearance.

She was about the average height, dark in complexion as a child of Spain. She was not a beauty — her mouth, despite the rich ripeness of her lips, was too large, and her nose a little too prominent for that. To make amends, her hair was thick, jet black, glossy, and soft as silk ; her teeth were regular, and pure as pearls, and in her big dark eyes there was a power, an expression, that formed a magnetic attraction, and made one wholly forget the irregularity of the features.

In brief, hers was one of those faces which, once seen, can never be fofgotten. One might say that it possessed the light which, like the sun’s ray on the sensitive plant, flashed upon the mind and left its imprint indelibly there.

Sarah’s filial devotion wmn for her the admiring attention of Mr. Laurence Hewitt, a rapidly rising solicitor in George Street. Mr. Hewitt and Mr. Hadden w^ere the chief visitors and almost the only friends of Mrs. Burnett.

The old man, indeed, found himself so much at home in Hill Street that he had been more than once on the point of proposing for the widow, old as he w\as, and long as it had been since his marryingdays had passed. But he so dreaded the loss of the society of that lady and her daughter, which he thought the rejection of such a proposal would render inevitable, that he continued to postpone his offer until there was a probability that it never would be made.

Meanwhile, esteeming her as a daughter, he had taken care to pro-

A HARD KNOT.

vide a large space in his will for Sarah, bequeathing to her, in fact, his whole fortune, with the exception of a portion appropriated to the Glasgow detective force.

Naturally, under these circumstances, jMr, Hadden was made quite at home in Hill Street ; and Sarah, who in all the difficulties of the household had either to decide for herself or obtain advice from the first friend that appeared, had gradually learned to make Mr. Hadden her confidant and counsellor.

He never failed her, never considered anything that he might have to do for her a trouble, and delighted in all things to act towards her as a kind, considerate father might have done, fie almost grudged the time she gave to Mr. Hewitt, who had been a visitor for two years ; but as during the past six months that gentleman’s attentions had assumed the definite form of a proposal of marriage, and as he was, by all reports, an excellent lawyer and a w'orthy man, Mr. Hadden mentally blessed the young couple, and set about thinking what he should do for them on their marriage.

It was a pity that such a man had been doomed to bachelorhood, for, with an ordinarily sensible woman, he would have formed the centre of a happy hoine.

As an unusual occurrence, Mr. Hadden had been absent from Hill Street for fifteen days, and he now knocked at the door with eager expectancy of the warm welcome he was to receive.

“Is Mrs. Burnett in?” he inquired when the housemaid opened the door, and he walked straight into the parlor as if it had been his own house.

The parlor was well furnished, and was made a pleasant chamber by the tidiness and tasteful arrangement which Sarah preserved ; but at a glance Hadden perceived that on the present occasion the room was in decided disorder.

The sofa was shoved over to the window, one chair was overturned, the other chairs and table were out of their places; on the floor lay a crumpled copy of the Daily Mail, and everything indicated confusion.

Turning quickly to the girl, who had followed him into the room, he observed now that she looked frightened and pale, and her dress was slightly disarranged.

“ Has anything happened ?” he demanded, quickly.

“Oh, sir, there’s something awfu’!” she cried, with hands raised to her eyes.

“ What is it — what is it?”

“You know that for the last month the mistress has been poorly. She eats naething, and this morning—”

“ Yes, yes, but this evening ?”

“After dinner she took up the paper to read the news ; but she ♦ had scarcely looked at it when she gave a scream— such a horrible

A HARD KNOT.

scream ! Miss Sarah and me ran into the room, and the mistress was lying on the floor as if she was dead. We carried her to her bedroom, and I wanted to go for the doctor ; but Miss Sarah said no, it wasna sickness that was tlie matter wi’ her, and that she knew what it was.”

“ And how is she now?”

“She’s come-to again — that is, I suppose she has, for Miss Sarah sent me out of the room. All that I ken is, that she has been speaking for the last hour at whiles — and very loud, for I heard her. Oh, it w’as awfu’ !”

“ What was awfu’?”

Mr. Hadden’s alarm and astonishment were momentarily increasing.

“What the mistress was saying.”

“ Eh, lass, were you listening ?”

“No, no, maister ! I wasna listening ; but the mistress cried out as if she was ruined and lost, and she said — ”

“Stop,” interrupted Mr. Hadden, raising his hand warningly, “ stop, my lass ; listeners never hear anything good at a keyhole.”

The girl was confused, and tried to exculpate herself.

“That will do,” he said, with some severitj^ “ If you promise to mind your own business, and leave the affairs of your mistress alone, I will say nothing. You need not call Miss Sarah; I will wait until she comes.”

The girl retired, and Hadden, satisfied with the lesson he had given her, picked up the newspaper, and still keeping his hat and umbrella in his hand, settled himself by the window to read.

He had scarcely been seated for more than a couple of minutes, when he bounded to his feet with a cry of amaze and alarm. He had been startled by this paragraph ;

“Mysterious Murder in Port-Dundas. — Considerable excitement prevails in the district of Port-Dundas by the discovery wiiich has just been made that a widow W'Oman, named Jean Gorbal, has been murdered in her own house. For tw^o days the house has been closed, and on the door being forced open by the authorities, the poor w^oman w^as found lying dead by the fireplace, with two stabs in the back. The police are on the track of the supposed criminals, and every exertion is being made to apprehend them. We will give particulars of this sad and mysterious event in our next edition.”

“Thunder !” exclaimed Hadden. “Is it possible that Mrs. Burnett can have any acquaintance — ”

A HARD KNOT.

lie gave himself a shake and sat down, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.

“I think this affair will drive me crazy,” he muttered. “I can sec nothing, hear nothing, that I do not associate with the woman Gorbal. Ridiculous !”

Curiosity, however, led him to examine the paper closely, and among all its contents he could discover nothing, save the paragraph quoted, which could afford the slightest clew to the cause of Mrs. Burnett’s sudden indisposition. There was not another line that could have caused the faintest emotion.

It was singular, and, still more singular, the side of the paper close to the paragraph was crumpled, and partially torn, as if by the spasmodic grip of a nervous hand.

“Most extraordinary !” gasped the detective, fixing his glasses on his nose.

The glasses hung round his neck by a piece of narrow black silk ribbon, but he scarcely ever used them, except when they served to aid him in concealing any expression of his visage which might have betrayed his thought, or when he was exceedingly amazed, as in the present instance, and, out of mere habit, he found occupation with them for his restless hands.

Chapter III. Sarah Burnett’s Declaration

The door at this moment opened, and Sarah appeared on the threshold. She was pallid as death, and her unusually calm, resolute face indicated suffering and trouble of the mind in an intense degree. She seemed to be astonished by the presence of ME Hadden.

“My dear Sarah,” said the good man, advancing quickly to her and taking her hands, “ tell me at once what has happened to your mother, and if she is better.”

“Mistress Burnett is as well as possible.”

The tone was cold, curt, and strange.

“Mistress Burnett!” he ejaculated, puzzled by this new form adopted by Sarah in speaking of her mother; but he went on kindly: “ I see you have been greatly agitated.”

“ Yes,” rejoined Sarah, weariedly, and withdrawing her hands from him as she passed one abstractedly over her brow and eyes, as if she were trying to remove the trouble which had settled upon them; “yes, I have sustained a cruel shock.”

She was evidently trying hard, trying with all the strength she

A HARD KNOT.

possessed, to maintain an air of calmness ; to listen to liis questions and to answer them quietly.

Mr. Hadden’s paternal interest in the girl, so young, and yet afflicted with so deep a sorrow, was excited to a degree.

“My dear child, at least relieve my anxiety by telling me what has happened, and how.”

She hesitated, and apparently reflected whether or not she should satisfy him. He was still her chief counsellor in all ditticulties, notwithstanding her engagement to Mr. Hewitt ; he was the chief friend of her mother ; and yet she hesitated whether or not to answer him. The reserve was very unusual, and *he concluded that the occasion of it must be peculiar. She seemed to be undecided how to respond, but at length ;

“Mistress Burnett has been distressed by learning from the paper that a woman in whom she was much interested has been murdered.”

“Eh! what? Did your mother know Jean Gorbal?”

He was so much taken by surprise that he had almost betrayed his connection with the detective force. He, however, checked himself in time, and experienced a glow of satisfaction in finding himself thus by accident on the track of the past history of the murdered woman. He concealed his gratification with an effort.

“The poor woman was in the service of Mistress Burnett at one time,” said Sarah, speaking still with hesitation, and in an agitated manner. “She was devoted to her mistress heart and soul, and would have thrown herself into the fire to serve her. ”

“Then you — you too, Sarah, must have known the •woman?”

Sarah had still more difficulty in controlling the agitation of her voice as she replied;

‘ ‘ I have not seen her for a long time, but I know her well ; more, I was very fond of her, for she was my nurse.”

“ She? — this woman?”

Mr. Hadden opened his e3^es, drew a long breath, and felt that he was growing sufficiently excited to forget all about the desire he entertained to conceal his private occupation. It seemed as if Providence had chosen him as the instrument of its vengeance and guided his hand. The woman Gorbal Sarah’s nurse I Here, then, he would obtain at once the knowledge which, half an hour ago, he had almost despaired of procuring.

He remained mute in his surprise before Sarah, but presently, remembering the necessity to say something in order to avoid compromising himself ;

“ It is an unhappy affair,” he said softly.

Sarah's hands were now clasped before her, and her big dark eyes stared vacantly at the window, as if she were looking towards something far away.

A HARD KNOT.

“ For Mistress Burnett, I don’t know what it may be,” she said, in that strange, cold tone; “but for me, it is a misfortune more terrible than you can conceive. The blow which killed that poor woman has stricken my heart also. Her death, dear Mr. Hadden, has destroyed every dream of the future I may have entertained, I had cruel outrages to avenge, cruel wrongs to set right, and that poor woman’s death has rendered me powerless, helpless, miserable.”

She sank down in a chair now, and, covering her face with her hands, sobbed bitterly ; but they were the sobs of a strong nature, which had struggled hard to repress them, and which was still striving to subdue this violent expression of emotion.

“In the name of Heaven, Sarah, explain this to me!” cried her friend, earnestly, distressed and utterly bewildered by her grief. “What causes you all this suffering? The pain must be great to make you speak so wildly. ”

“And the pain is great indeed. Ah, dear Mr. Hadden, you cannot know how great — I feel as if it were driving me mad; for there are wrongs now that can never be repaired, and I am left helpless, defenceless, against calumny and shame.”

‘ ‘ Calumny 1 shame ! — you 1”

“Ay, me; for I dare not speak now, for people would point me out as an ambitious adventuress, a false and dishonored woman.”

Mr. Hadden did not know what to think. He could not see the remotest connection between Sarah’s mother and the death of Jean Gorbal; and he was troubled with a thousand bewildering conjectures.

“My dear child,” he said kindly, laying his hand on her shoulder, “ I can’t understand you. What dishonor, what calumny, can affect you? Has anybody been making a quarrel between you and Hewitt?”

“No, no!” she moaned, swaying her body slightly; “but he, too, will turn from me when he learns — ”

“Thunder! learns what? Has anybody been slandering you? Has anybody wronged you? Speak, Sarah! confide in me, as you have always done.”

With a calmness as sudden and strange as her exhibition of grief Sarah rose to her feet, hastily wiping her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Yes, you shall know all,” she said, in a low, deliberate tone ; “ I have been trying to bear a burden that is too heavy for me, trying to keep a secret that is killing me. I have need of a wise, true friend to guide and help me, for this has filled me with hesitation and fear.”

“ You know, Sarah, that you are to me as a child of my own might have been,” said the old man, tenderly, having now controlled his passion; “and you know that I will help you if man can do so.”

“ I know it, good, kind friend!”

A HARD KNOT.

Witli an impulsive movement she snatched his hand and pressed it to her lips.

“I must go to my room. I will be with you in a moment,” she said quickly, not giving him time to recover from his astonishment, and she hurried from the apartment.

In a few minutes she returned, carrying in her hand a small deed-box. She carefully closed the door and bolted it. She placed the deed-box on the floor, and directed her companion to be seated by the table. He obeyed, watching her curiously.

She stood opposite to him at the corner of the table, pallid as marblef and as coldly calm.

What if your mother calls ?” he said, glancing at the bolted door.

“If Mistress Burnett wants anything the servants will attend to her.”

This indifference and coldness in a daughter who had hitherto been so affectionate and dutiful was another subject of amaze to Hadden.