The Clue (24 page)

“This threw me into a frenzy, and with one thrust I drove the dagger home to her heart. She died without a sound, and I pulled out the dagger to turn it upon myself. But the sight of Madeleine's blood brought me to my senses. I dropped the dagger and new thoughts came rushing to my mind thick and fast. Madeleine was dead. I could not bring her again to life. The fortune was now mine! Would I not be a fool then to kill myself? I'm not excusing these thoughts; I'm simply telling the thing as it occurred. I turned and softly re-crossed the hall, let myself down through the drawing-room fireplace, and was back in my room at the hotel without having met any one going or coming. At two o'clock I was summoned over here by telephone, and I came. Miss Morton met me in the parlor, and as there was a bright light there then, I chanced to see one of those miserable cachous on the carpet. I picked it up and concealed it, but it warned me; and when Mr. Fessenden asked me the next day if I had any, I said no. Now I have told you all. Wait—do not speak! I know you would say that I was a coward not to take my own life when I intended to. I admit it; I was a coward, but it is not yet too late for the deed!”

Before any one could move to prevent it Tom had grasped the dagger from the drawer where it was hidden and plunged it into his own breast. He sank down into the chair—the very chair where Madeleine had died, and, dreadful as the occasion was, those who saw him could not but feel that it was just retribution.

It was Schuyler Carleton who again started forward, and put his arm around the wounded man.

“Tom,” he cried, “oh, Tom, why did you do that?” Carleton then involuntarily started to pull the dagger away, but Tom stopped him.

“Don't,” he said thickly. “To pull that out will finish me. Leave it, and I have a few moments more!”

“That is true,” said Fleming Stone. “Some one telephone for a doctor, but do not disturb the weapon. Mr. Willard, if you have anything to say, say it quickly.”

“I will,” said Tom, quickly; “Fessenden, you are a lawyer, will you draw up my will?”

Without a word, Rob caught up paper and pen, and prepared to take the last words of the dying man.

Though not entirely in legal phrasing, the will was completed, and after a general bequest to Fessenden himself, and directing that all bills should be paid, and other minor matters of the sort, Tom Willard left the bulk of his fortune to Schuyler Carleton.

“That,” he said, with almost his last breath, “is only a deed of justice, in the name of Madeleine and myself.”

Before the arrival of Doctor Hills, Tom Willard was dead. Self-confessed, self-convicted, self-punished; but his crime was discovered by Fleming Stone, and proved by means of a tiny clue.

Originally published in 1909

Cover design by Andy Ross

978-1-5040-0150-2

This 2014 edition published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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