THE MILLS OF GOD
In the cold gray hours of the morning, Hope and his friend left the cottage wherein such a tragedy had taken place. The dead woman was lying stiff and white on her bed under a winding sheet, which had already been strewn with many-hued chrysanthemums taken from the pink parlor by the weeping Jane. The wretched woman who had led so stormy and unhappy a life had at least one sincere mourner, for she had always been kind to the servant, who formed her entire domestic staff, and Jane would not hear a word said against the dead. Not that anyone did say anything; for Random and Hope kept the contents of the confession to themselves.
There would be time enough for Mrs. Jasher's reputation to be smirched when those same contents were made public.
When the poor woman died, Random left the doctor and the servant to look after the corpse, and went into the parlor. Here he met Hope with the confession in his hand. Luckily, Painter was not in the room at the moment, else he would have prevented the artist from taking away the same. Hope - as directed by Mrs.
Jasher - had found the confession, written on many sheets, lying on the desk. It broke off abruptly towards the end, and was not signed. Apparently at this point Mrs. Jasher had been interrupted - as she had said - by the tapping of Cockatoo at the window. Probably she had admitted him at once, and on her refusal to give him the emerald, and on her confessing what she had written, he had overturned the lights for the purpose of murdering her. Only too well had the Kanaka succeeded in his wickedness.
Archie slipped the confession into his pocket before the policeman returned, and then left the cottage with Random and the doctor, since nothing else could now be done. It was between seven and eight, and the chilly dawn was breaking, but the sea-mist still lay heavily over the marshes, as though it were the winding sheet of the dead. Robinson went to his own house to get his trap and drive into Jessum, there to catch the train and ferry to Pierside. It was necessary that Inspector Date should be informed of this new tragedy without delay, and as Constable Painter was engaged in watching the cottage, there was no messenger available but Dr. Robinson. Random indeed offered to send a soldier, or to afford Robinson the use of the Fort telephone, but the doctor preferred to see Date personally, so as to detail exactly what had happened. Perhaps the young medical man had an eye to becoming better known, for the improvement of his practice; but he certainly seemed anxious to take a prominent part in the proceedings connected with the murder of Mrs. Jasher.
When Robinson parted from them, Random and Hope went to the lodgings of the latter, so as to read over the confession and learn exactly to what extent Mrs. Jasher had been mixed up in the tragedy of the green mummy. She had declared herself innocent even on her death-bed, and so far as the two could judge at this point, she certainly had not actually strangled Sidney Bolton.
But it might be - and it appeared to be more than probable - that she was an accessory after the fact. But this they could learn from the confession, and they sat in Hope's quiet little sitting-room, in which the fire had been just lighted by the artist's landlady, with the scattered sheets neatly ranged before them.
"Perhaps you would like a cup of coffee, or a whisky and soda,"suggested Archie, "before starting to read?""I should," assented Random, who looked weary and pale. "The events of the night have somewhat knocked me up. Coffee for choice - nice, black, strong, hot coffee."Hope nodded and went to order the same. When he returned he sat down, after closing the door carefully, and proceeded to read.
But before he could speak Random raised his hand.
"Let us chat until the coffee comes in," he said; "then we shall not be interrupted when reading.""All right," said Hope. "Have a cigar!"
"No, thanks. I have been smoking all the night. I shall sit here by the fire and wait for the coffee. You look chippy yourself.""And small wonder," said Archie wearily. "We little thought when we left the Fort last night what a time we were going to have.
Fancy Mrs. Jasher having sent you the emerald after all!""Yes. She repented, as she said, and yet I dare say - as she also said - she was sorry that she acted on her impulse. If she had not been stabbed by that damned Cockatoo, she would no doubt have destroyed that confession. I expect she wrote that also on the impulse of the moment.""She confessed as much," said Hope, leaning his head on his hand and staring into the fire. "She must have been cognizant of the truth all along. I wonder if she was an accessory before or after the fact?""What I wonder," said Random, after a moment's thought, "is, what Braddock has to do with the matter?"Hope raised his head in surprise.
