According to the doctor who was hastily removed from his prison, Emma had died immediately.
“I wonder if she meant to do it?” I asked Asey when he came back with the news.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t guess we ever will. I’m inclined to think she did, but she might not have. But perhaps it’s better all around.”
“How did you know?” Betsey asked.
“That book. I knew from that telegram from the feller in New York that it was a libel suit that Kurth had brought, like I told you. The only reason I could think of was from his books. You’d said Emma had been readin’ his latest, an’ I remembered that. I kind of thought that if Kurth had got mad at one book, maybe she had at another.”
“But this business of it’s being in the bath house? How did you know that?”
“You said you heard a noise on Saturday night. You thought it was Dot, but when you said that cat of yours was still riled up, I begun to piece the thing together. Suppose she had read the book an’ found something in it, an’ suppose that was the reason why she killed Dale. She didn’t have no chance to get rid of the book, an’ she knew better than to leave it lyin’ around where one of you might see it. This was all sup’sition, you see. I’d remembered that story I told you, too. It was gospel truth. I’d been fooled once by a woman a lot like her, smart an’ cheerful an’ nice, an’ I begun to suspect her. She was the one movin’ around, I figgered, gettin’ rid of that book. All day Saturday she set here, knittin’, but she didn’t have no chance to do nothin’ about it. She was only alone when Dot an’ Betsey went to see them folks that had been playin’ tennis. But that wouldn’t of done her any good; Olga was still here an’ all them folks was around the rope. The cottage wasn’t no fit place to hide it. I thought she might of, though, an’ that was why I sent Olga around yesterday afternoon, to see if she could find it.”
“But how—”
“Wait up. I’m gittin’ there. She didn’t have no chance to do anything about it Friday night because Slough an’ all was around. Only Saturday night when all of you was to bed and asleep. Then she went out most likely intendin’ to throw it in the water. She was too sensible to think of just lyin’ it around. That purloined letter business ain’t so good as a rule. I don’t know’s you notice such things, but the tide was cornin’ in that night an’ so she couldn’t do anything of the sort attall. Probably, she, bein’ intel’gent, thought of that as a possibility an’ took the bath-house key along with her. Where else was there a better place than to hide it in her bathin’ things? So that’s what she done, intendin’ to get rid of it when she could, I shouldn’t wonder. It was wrapped in her bathin’ suit.”
“How were you so sure about the book?”
“It was just the way I thought of it an’ it’s proved all right. When Kurth told us all, then I was a lot surer. She was the only one that had the new book, she was a lot like Mrs. Binney an’ after all, didn’t you notice she didn’t deny she’d been there? She just said wouldn’t you all of heard her.”
“But when did she go to the cabin? What was there in the book? Whom was it about? And how in the world could she have acted the way she did afterward?”
“I shouldn’t wonder if she’d left you a better explanation than I could give. Didn’t she leave a note?”
“Those letters she brought down last night,” Dot said excitedly. “Don’t you suppose there would be something in them?”
Betsey ran to the desk. “There’s one addressed to you, Snoodles. Read it!”
I tore it open. Pages and pages in Emma’s neat handwriting fell out.
“Why, it’s dated Friday night,” I said.
Asey nodded. “I guessed as much.”
I read the letter aloud.
“My dear Prudence:
“By the time you will have read this,—I believe that is the classic way to begin such letters,—I will probably not be around. But you might as well know, in case that Bill or any one else is incriminated badly, the truth of the whole matter.
“I killed Dale Sanborn. That sounds horrible, possibly, but I am not so sure that it is. You didn’t know when you gave me that book what it really contained. I didn’t know myself till I was well into it. Reverence. You ask yourself what a book named Reverence has to do with me? It is all so simple. Reverence was taken from the life of my husband Henry Edward Manton.
“You know that Henry Edward was famous for his eccentricities. He did many things which people could not understand, many things which most clergymen would not think of doing, many things which his confreres held up their hands in holy horror at.
“In 1918, shortly after the war, Henry Edward was coming back from a meeting in Boston one night and found wandering around in the streets a young girl whom he brought home with him. I don’t know who she was or where she came from. We called her Rose. It was the usual sordid story of the war, some soldier who had led her astray and then gone off and forgotten all about her. Of course Henry Edward wanted to help her. I don’t know whether you knew about her, for few did, but she stayed at the house with us until she died with her baby. That in itself is a simple enough story, isn’t it? But in Reverence you will find Dale Sanborn’s interpretation and that is not so simple. The girl Rose in his book is Henry Edward’s mistress, I am the wife who allows her to stay in the house with me. You can read the rest of it yourself.
“How did Sanborn know? Simply because Henry Edward found him when he was a student at college, working his way through, and helped him along. I knew him the minute I set eyes on him down on the beach to-day though he pretended not to recognize me. Prudence, my husband and I had nursed that boy through typhoid. We had paid his bills, given him clothes and kept him alive. He knew about Rose, had been there while she was at the house. Henry Edward and I have long since ceased to expect any gratitude from the people whom we tried to help. I did not expect gratitude from David Schonbrun, but neither did I expect Reverence. I read it through, then skipped through it again, trying to assure myself that it was not my husband or myself who were pictured in its pages. But I couldn’t do it. We were the characters, but so colored with red pencil as to achieve Marlovian proportions.
“It was possibly four-thirty when I finished that book the second time. I decided to go and see Schonbrun, to see if it really was the truth, for I didn’t want to believe it. There were too many people who would know, and I didn’t want the story public in that version.
“I went downstairs as I always do, clumping a little, and intending to make some explanation to you. But you weren’t there; I heard you moving about in the kitchen, banging pans. Then as I came out on the porch, I saw Dot hot-footing it over to the cabin. I followed closely behind her, waiting outside the cabin and heard her conversation with Schonbrun. It strengthened my conviction that he was a knave, even a greater one than I could have imagined. After she left I went in, still gripping the book.
“He greeted me cheerfully and asked if all the indignant females in the world were paying him visits that afternoon.
“For answer I held out the book. ‘Did you take this from the story of Rose and my husband?’ I asked.
“He laughed. ‘Why not? It’s a part of my debunking humanity series. The ministry hasn’t had a jolt for a long time.’
“I controlled myself as well as I could. ‘Do you mean to tell me that this is the way you reward us for all we did for you?’
“He waved his hand airily and said it was a minor matter. ‘Manton’s dead and who cares? Who’ll ever know?’
“I tried to explain that that was just the point. It was because Henry Edward was dead that I cared about it. If he were alive and could fight back, that would be a different matter. The truth could be told. But even if I could give my version publicly now, no one would believe me and I would only be ridiculed.
“He looked at me scornfully and said that there was nothing he could do about it. That after all, he had to live. ‘Is there any reason in the world why your husband should not prove a source of income to me after he is dead as well as when he was alive?’
“Suddenly he stopped and looked under the table. He saw that sardine tin which the sheriff ascribes to Bill Porter. Paying no attention to me and to my questions, he bent over and looked at it more closely. I have never seen a man in such an infuriated mood. ‘Who left this here?’ He demanded. ‘Who brought it?’
“To have my pleas thus disregarded while he fumed about an empty sardine tin was more than I could stand. As he leaned over I brought his own book down on his head with all the force I could muster. He dropped like a log.
“I knelt beside him and I knew he was dead. I had heard Henry Edward tell of that blow on the base of the skull even though I had no intention of using it. I did not mean to kill Sanborn, but if I had, I was not afraid nor was I sorry. He needed to be killed. His conversation with Dot alone bore that out.
“I did not stop to think particularly. I left him lying there and hastened back to the house. I expected instant discovery and I was prepared to face the music. But when you chose to think I was coming downstairs when I was actually coming up the porch steps, it seemed to me that I might as well take a chance and await discovery before coming forward and giving myself up. I stuck the book in my knitting bag and went out into the kitchen as you called me.
Possibly I should have told you everything then, or to-night when the sheriff was here. But it is hard to relinquish your freedom when you have killed some one who deserved it. I do not think from what I have seen of your sheriff that he will succeed in convincing people that Bill Porter was the murderer. That there would be others involved did not occur to me at the time.
I will wait and see what happens and then when the time is ripe, I shall see what I can do in the way of cheating the gallows. Once I went through a jail and I did not like it; I am sure that I could not endure that. And besides, dear Prudence, life without Henry Edward is not the life I care to lead. I have nothing now to live for and life has lost its zest as far as I am concerned. This world hangs on a very fine thread. Some day something is bound to make it snap, and a little sooner or later makes no difference. So if anything should happen and there should be an accident, please try to think as kindly of me as you can.
“You will remember, too, that I have told, or will tell, no lies about this. I may slide over the truth,—that is only human,—but the whole thing is in black and white for whoever wants to find it out.
“I have enjoyed my visit, strange though it may seem. And if you will send my other letter to Norton and West they will arrange all the details that have to be arranged.
“I have written this Friday night while everything is still in confusion but these are the true facts and this is the whole truth.”
“Then she meant to kill herself,” I said, “meant it from the very first. And to think of how she acted, as cheerful and as unmoved as though nothing were going to happen.”
“I know,” said Asey. “I don’t think I ever felt much worse in my life than I did this mornin’. You see, I went to the bath house an’ got that book an’ spent most of last night readin’ it. I knew then. I guess she knew I did, too.”
“But how did you know it was Emma and Henry Edward?”
“I called up Boston long distance last night when I got half-way through an’ got hold of a preacher I used to know an’ he told me. He was one of them who knew about the girl.”
“There’s a post-script you haven’t looked at,” Betsey said, passing me another page.
“This is dated last night,” I said.
“I don’t like to add post-scripts, but it is increasingly apparent that that lean Asey Mayo knows about the book and about my hiding it in the bath house. After Maida and John and their story, it’s plain as the nose on your face who did it anyway. And Asey has wit enough to bring out the truth before they take Bill away. So, as these moderns say, that is that. In case I should have forgotten, there is some catnip for Ginger in my bureau drawer which in the press of excitement I have neglected to present you with.”
I think it was the last sentence which made me break down and cry. Even the imperturbable Asey blinked self-consciously.
“I know it’s terrible, Miss Prue, but maybe she’s happier an’ surely it’s better than what would have happened if she hadn’t done it. By gum!” He struck his thigh. “If I haven’t forgotten all about Bill!”
He dashed for the car and in a few minutes Bill was back at the cottage, apparently none the worse for his sojourn.
“Asey’s told me everything,” he announced, “and I know one thing that the Porter money will be good for. I just telegraphed and that part of it is going to come out all right if Jimmy has to sell the darned old business.”
“And that is?”
“I telegraphed the publishers, Snoodles, and if one copy of that beastly book ever gets given to the public, it’ll be because the Porter family has gone broke. After all that’s happened, it seems to me that we can have the decency to keep that book away from scandalmongers. I’m going to buy up everything connected with it if it’s the last thing I ever do. I’m going to burn every leaf and destroy every linotype or whatever they are myself. You can tell the police the truth but I’m going to keep it away from the newspapers and everything else. No one is going to know about the last victim of Mr. Dale Sanborn if I have anything to do with it.”
Schonbrun spoke up. “Far’s I can see, Mr. Porter, I guess I got the right to make the publishers do what I want ’em to do about Dave’s things, an’ Jeese, I’ll go with you an’ see you do what you say. That brother of mine has done enough damage without doin’ any more to that lady. But I didn’t tell on her, did I, even if Asey called me names?”
Asey turned on him. “Do you mean to tell me she was that flash of white you saw?”
“Yeah.”
“Can the leopard change his spots?” Asey said sorrowfully. “An’ you didn’t tell?”
“Naw. She knew I knew, too. But she done something I never had the courage to do an’ I wasn’t goin’ to tell on her. I didn’t think you’d spot her. I didn’t know you suspected her till you told that story. But I wouldn’t of told on her unless my life depended on it. She,” he added feelingly, “she was a lady, she was. I ain’t never seen no one like her. Yes, sir, Mr. Porter, you burn the books an’ I’ll help you while you do it, I will.”
“I will too,” Dot announced. She had suddenly regained her old manner. “I mean, I shall positively revel while I do it. Actually I never heard of a brighter thought.”
“We’ll be there too,” Kurth announced. “I only wish we could have done the same with the other book.”
“And I am going to be first assistant,” Betsey announced.
“Just this once,” Bill wanted to know, “or does that stand?”
Betsey blushed, to my surprise and joy. “Well,” she said defensively, “if you’re going to go around and get yourself all tangled up with murders, some one’s got to look after you, haven’t they? And as Asey sings, why not me?”
Asey sighed. “It’s almost worth all this to get them two settled for keeps. Look at the fools in their movie clinch. It’s disgraceful, that’s what it is. But I sure am glad to get that boy off my hands. He’s been a ter’ble worry for years.” He stretched his arms high as though invoking a spirit, then let them fall. Abruptly he yawned and started for the door.
“Hey!” Bill disentangled himself. “HeyI Where are you bound?”
Asey pulled out a large old-fashioned silver watch, held it carefully to his ear, then wound it with great deliberation. “Where’m I goin’? I’m goin’ home to get a little sleep, ’n then I’m goin’ to take m’ rowboat an’ go out ’n’ get some flounders ’n’ rock cod ’n’ bait m’ lobster pots. That’s where I’m bound. D’you realize them pots ain’t been baited since Friday, young feller, with all your goin’s-on to look after? Well, they ain’t.”
“But, wait up a moment, Asey! Hey! Wait up! I haven’t told you yet what a swell you were to ferret all this out—”
Asey looked at him sternly, then turned and grinned at the rest of us.
“Mere baggy-tell,” he announced. He waved his hand nonchalantly and stepped out on the porch. We heard him murmur as he went down the steps. “Mere baggy-tell, mere baggy-tell!”