The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин

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      “Do you know these rings?”

      “I do.”

      “Better than you know her hands?”

      “As well, sir.”

      “Were they on her hands when you parted from her in Haddam?”

      “They were.”

      “Did she always wear them?”

      “Almost always. Indeed I do not ever remember seeing her take off more than one of them.”

      “Which one?”

      “The ruby with the diamond setting.”

      “Had the dead girl any rings on when you saw her?”

      “No, sir.”

      “Did you look to see?”

      “I think I did in the first shock of the discovery.”

      “And you saw none?”

      “No, sir.”

      “And from this you concluded she was not your wife?”

      “From this and other things.”

      “Yet you must have seen that the woman was in the habit of wearing rings, even if they were not on her hands at that moment?”

      “Why, sir? What should I know about her habits?”

      “Is not that a ring I see now on your little finger?”

      “It is; my seal ring which I always wear.”

      “Will you pull it off?”

      “Pull it off!”

      “If you please; it is a simple test I am requiring of you, sir.”

      The witness looked astonished, but pulled off the ring at once.

      “Here it is,” said he.

      “Thank you, but I do not want it. I merely want you to look at your finger.”

      The witness complied, evidently more nonplussed than disturbed by this command.

      “Do you see any difference between that finger and the one next it?”

      “Yes; there is a mark about my little finger showing where the ring has pressed.”

      “Very good; there were such marks on the fingers of the dead girl, who, as you say, had no rings on. I saw them, and perhaps you did yourself?”

      “I did not; I did not look closely enough.”

      “They were on the little finger of the right hand, on the marriage finger of the left, and on the forefinger of the same. On which fingers did your wife wear rings?”

      “On those same fingers, sir, but I will not accept this fact as proving her identity with the deceased. Most women do wear rings, and on those very fingers.”

      The Coroner was nettled, but he was not discouraged. He exchanged looks with Mr. Gryce, but nothing further passed between them and we were left to conjecture what this interchange of glances meant.

      The witness, who did not seem to be affected either by the character of this examination or by the conjectures to which it gave rise, preserved his sang-froid, and eyed the Coroner as he might any other questioner, with suitable respect, but with no fear and but little impatience. And yet he must have known the horrible suspicion darkening the minds of many people present, and suspected, even if against his will, that this examination, significant as it was, was but the forerunner of another and yet more serious one.

      “You are very determined,” remarked the Coroner in beginning again, “not to accept the very substantial proofs presented you of the identity between the object of this inquiry and your missing wife. But we are not yet ready to give up the struggle, and so I must ask if you heard the description given by Miss Ferguson of the manner in which your wife was dressed on leaving Haddam?

      “I have.”

      “Was it a correct account? Did she wear a black and white plaid silk and a hat trimmed with various colored ribbons and flowers?”

      “She did.”

      “Do you remember the hat? Were you with her when she bought it, or did you ever have your attention drawn to it in any particular way?”

      “I remember the hat.”

      “Is this it, Mr. Van Burnam?”

      I was watching Howard, and the start he gave was so pronounced and the emotion he displayed was in such violent contrast to the self-possession he had maintained up to this point, that I was held spell-bound by the shock I received, and forebore to look at the object which the Coroner had suddenly held up for inspection. But when I did turn my head towards it, I recognized at once the multi-colored hat which Mr. Gryce had brought in from the third room of Mr. Van Burnam’s house on the evening I was there, and realized almost in the same breath that great as this mystery had hitherto seemed it was likely to prove yet greater before its proper elucidation was arrived at.

      “Was that found in my father’s house? Where—where was that hat found?” stammered the witness, so far forgetting himself as to point towards the object in question.

      “It was found by Mr. Gryce in a closet off your father’s dining-room, a short time after the dead girl was carried out.”

      “I don’t believe it,” vociferated the young man, paling with something more than anger, and shaking from head to foot.

      “Shall I put Mr. Gryce on his oath again?” asked the Coroner, mildly.

      The young man stared; evidently these words failed to reach his understanding.

      “Is it your wife’s hat?” persisted the Coroner with very little mercy. “Do you recognize it for the one in which she left Haddam?”

      “Would to God I did not!” burst in vehement distress from the witness, who at the next moment broke down altogether and looked about for the support of his brother’s arm.

      Franklin came forward, and the two brothers stood for a moment in the face of the whole surging mass of curiosity-mongers before them, arm in arm, but with very different expressions on their two proud faces. Howard was the first to speak.

      “If that was found in the parlors of my father’s house,” he cried, “then the woman who was killed there was my wife.” And he started away with a wild air towards the door.

      “Where are you going?” asked the Coroner, quietly, while an officer stepped softly before him, and his brother compassionately drew him back by the arm.

      “I am going to take her from that horrible СКАЧАТЬ