The Darrow Enigma - Melvin L. Severy (books for 7th graders .txt) 📗

class="calibre1">Q. Why, then?

 

A. He under oath to tell what was told him only to one person. He

has keep his secret out of every year for more as twenty year, and

can no be expect to tell to you, Sahib.

 

Q. Can you bring this man to me? You will both be well paid for your

time, of course.

 

A. I bring him, Sahib, but I not make him speak.

 

Q. Let me see you both, then, tonight at eight, at Herr Blaschek’s

villa on Malabar Hill. Ask for Mr. Maitland.

 

A. We be there. Anything more, Sahib?

 

Q. Yes. When is Ragobah expected to return?

 

A. He write that he think he return on the Dalmatia. She due next

day after to-morrow.

 

Q. Has Ragobah any physical peculiarities?

 

A. His hands and feet they very small for man so big and strong.

 

Q. Anything else?

 

A. His left leg been hurt. The foot very bad shape, and the whole

leg some bad, and, - what you call - halt when he walk.

 

Q. Has he the habit of biting his finger nails?

 

A. I not know he has, Sahib.

 

This completed the list of questions which I had desired to ask him,

so, after once more receiving his assurance that he would meet me in

the evening with his friend Scindia, I left him. As you know, I am

not wont to draw conclusions until all the evidence is in, but I must

confess that, looking at the whole matter from start to finish, there

seems to have fallen upon Ragobah a net of circumstantial evidence

so strong, and with a mesh of detail so minute, that it does not seem

possible a mosquito could escape from it. Look at it a moment from

this standpoint. Ragobah alone, so far as we know, has a motive for

the murder. His victim has related the feud existing between them

and foretold, with an air of the utmost assurance, just such an

outcome thereof. Add to this that this man leaves India on a mission

which those about him do not hesitate to pronounce one of vengeance,

at just such a time as would enable him to reach Boston just a little

before the commission of the murder; that this mission is the

culmination of twenty years of unremitting search for revenge; that

this malignity is supposed to be directed against some rival in his

wife’s affections, and the chain of circumstantial evidence

possesses, so far as it extends, no weak link. Then, too, Ragobah

has very small hands, a deformed left foot, and a limping gait, -=20

everything almost which we had already predicted of the assassin.

So sure am I that Ragobah is the guilty man that I shall ask for his

arrest upon his arrival day after to-morrow should he return then,

a thing which, I regret to say, does not impress me as altogether

likely. Should he not come I shall cable you to institute a search

for your end of the line. The next thing in order which I have to

relate is my interview with Moro Scindia. I had engaged an

interpreter, but was able to dismiss him as my guest spoke English

with more ease and fluency than he, being an intelligent and

well-to-do member of the Vaisya caste. I thought it wise to see the

venerable Scindia alone, and accordingly sent Parinama out of the

room with the interpreter. As before; I give you what passed between

us as I jotted it down in my notebook.

 

Q. You are a friend of Rama Ragobah, are you not?

 

A. No, Sahib; he has no friends.

 

Q. You speak as if you disliked him.

 

A. It is not Mono Scindia’s habit to play the hypocrite. I have good

reason to hate him.

 

Q. You would not, then, had he committed a crime, assist him to escape

justice?

 

A. I would track him like a bloodhound to the ends of the earth.

 

Q. You knew Ragobah’s wife?

 

A. She was my cousin, Sahib.

 

Q. Were your relations friendly?

 

A. They were more than friendly. I loved her dearly, and would have

tried to win her had I not been so much her senior.

 

Q. Did she live happily with Ragobah?

 

A. No, Sahib.

 

Q. Why?

 

A. I cannot answer. I have sworn to reveal the last experiences of

my cousin to but one person.

 

Q. And that person is.?

 

A. I must decline to answer that also, Sahib.

 

Q. If I succeed in naming him will you acknowledge it?

 

A. You will not succeed, Sahib.

 

Q. But if I should?

 

A. I will acknowledge it.

 

Q. The person is John Hinton Darrow.

 

The old man started as if he had been stabbed, and looked at me in

amazement. He seemed at first to think I had read his thoughts and

riveted his dark eyes upon me as if, by way of return, he would read

my very soul. I think he did so, for his scrutiny seemed to satisfy

him. He replied, somewhat reassured: “I can speak only to John

Hinton Darrow.”

 

“John Darrow is dead,” I said.

 

“Dead!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet; “Darrow Sahib dead!” and

he fell back into his chair, covering his face with his hands. “Ah,

my poor Lona!” he muttered feebly; “I have failed to keep my promise.

Do not reproach me, for I have done my best. For twenty years have I

searched in vain for this man that I might fulfil your last request,

and the very first information I receive is the news of his death. I

have been no less vigilant than Ragobah, yet I have failed, even as

he has failed.”

 

I took this opportunity to again question him.

 

Q. Are you sure Ragobah failed?

 

A. Yes; had he found Darrow Sahib he would have killed him. His

mission was one of revenge; mine one of love and justice; both have

failed utterly since their object is dead. My pledge is broken!

 

Q. In its letter, yes; but the chance is still left you to keep the

spirit of your covenant.

 

A. I do not understand you, Sahib.

 

Q. I will explain. Lona Ragobah confided to you certain facts in

explanation of her conduct toward John Darrow. She loved him

passionately, and it was her desire to stand acquitted in his sight.

Were she alive now, any wish he had expressed during his life

would be fulfilled by her as a sacred and pleasurable duty. This,

then, as one who lovingly performs her will, should be your attitude

also. John Darrow was the only man she ever loved, and, were she

living, every drop of her loyal blood would rise against anyone who

had done him injury. Do I not speak the truth?

 

A. Yes; she was loyal unto death and so shall I be. My hand has ever

been against all who have done her harm; Ragobah knows that full well.

 

Q. Were she alive, you certainly would aid her in bringing to justice

one who has done her the most cruel of wrongs and, at the same time,

fulfilling the dying request of the man who to her was more than

life.

 

A. I should do her bidding, Sahib.

 

Q. How much more need, then, now that the poor woman is dead, that

you should act for her as she would, were she here.

 

A. You have not told me all; speak your mind freely, Sahib. You may

depend upon my doing whatever I believe Lona would do were she here.

 

Q. I ask nothing more, and am now prepared to fully confide in you.

As you doubtless know, Rama Ragobah left Bombay for New York about

eleven weeks ago. He went, I have been told, on an errand of revenge.

Six weeks ago John Darrow was murdered. He left behind him a written

statement describing his wooing of Lona Scindia and his experiences

with Rama Ragobah. He asserted, furthermore, his belief that he

would die by Ragobah’s hand, - the hand which twice before had

attempted his life. Even as he loved your cousin, so he hated her

husband, and, confident that he would ultimately be killed by him,

he was haunted by the fear that he would escape the just penalty for

his crime. He bound his heir by the most solemn of promises to use,

in the event of his murder, every possible means to bring the

assassin to justice. There can, of course, be little doubt that the

assassin and Rama Ragobah are one and the same person. The last

request John Darrow ever made - it was after he had been attacked

by the assassin - had for its object the punishment of his murderer.

Were your cousin living, do you think she would be deaf to that

entreaty?

 

A. No. She would make its fulfilment the one object of her life, and,

acting in her stead, I shall do all in my power to see justice done.

If I can render you any aid in that direction you may command me,

Sahib.

 

Q. You can assist me by telling me all you know of your cousin’s

married life, and, more especially, the message she confided to you.

 

A. In doing this I shall break the letter of my oath, but, were I not

to do it, I should break the spirit thereof, therefore listen:

 

You have, I suppose, already learned from the statement of Darrow

Sahib what occurred at his last meeting with my cousin on Malabar

Hill. Her act, in throwing a venomous serpent in his face, was one

which doubtless led him to believe she wished to kill him, although

it must have puzzled him to assign any reason for such a desire.

Not long after this incident my cousin married Ragobah, a man for

whom she had always cherished an ill-concealed hatred. I saw but

little of her at this time, yet, for all that, I could not but

observe that she was greatly changed. But one solution suggested

itself to me, and that was that she had discovered her lover false

to her and had, out of spite as it is called, hastily married

Ragobah. I confess that when this conclusion forced itself home

upon me, I felt much dissatisfied with Lona, for I thought such a

course unworthy of her. As I saw more of her I noted still greater

changes in her character. As I had known her from childhood, she

had been most uniform in her temper and her conduct; now all this

was changed. To-day, perhaps, she would be like her old self, -=20

only weaker and more fragile, - to-morrow a new being entirely,

stronger and more restless, with a demoniac light in her eyes, and

a sort of feverish malignancy dominating her whole personality.

When I noticed this I studied to avoid her. If the Lona I had

known were merely an ideal of which no actual prototype existed, I

wished to be allowed to cherish that ideal rather than to have it

cruelly shattered to make room for the real Lona. I had not seen

her for many weeks when one day, to my surprise, I received a note

from her. It was short, and so impressed me that I can remember

every word of it.

 

“My DEAR COUSIN:

 

“I send this note to you by Kandia that you may get it before it is

too late for you to do what I wish. I am a caged bird in my

husband’s house. My every movement is watched,