I, Spy - 6 Espionage & Detective Books in One Edition. Frederic Arnold Kummer

arrested in connection with the murder of one Robert Ashton, which occurred at your father's house on the morning of Tuesday last. The object of this hearing is to fix the responsibility for that crime, so far as we can, pending a trial by jury. Tell the Court, if you please, where you first met the deceased."

      "In Hong Kong," replied Miss Temple, in a scarcely audible voice.

      "Speak a little louder, please. When was this?"

      "Last year—in October."

      "He addressed you at that time, did he not, upon the subject of marriage?"

      "He did, several times."

      "What was your reply?"

      "I refused his advances."

      "Why?"

      "I did not care for him, in fact, I disliked him."

      "You had a strong aversion to him?"

      "I had. He seemed to me cruel and unscrupulous."

      "Did your father know of this feeling on your part?"

      "No. I did not say anything to him about it. He evidently liked Mr. Ashton, probably because of their common interest in Oriental art. I had no wish to prejudice him."

      "When did you first learn that your father had consented to your marriage with Mr. Ashton?"

      "Shortly after our return to England. He told me that Mr. Ashton had asked for my hand in marriage, and offered to secure the emerald Buddha for him as an evidence of his love and sincerity. My father, supposing that I would have no objections, foolishly consented to the arrangement."

      "But you objected?"

      "Violently at first. Later on, when I saw how deeply my father felt about the matter, and when he told me he had given Mr. Ashton his word of honor, and that the latter had set out upon a life-and-death quest as a result of it, I gave an unwilling consent and agreed to write to Mr. Ashton at Pekin, withdrawing my objections to his suit."

      "You wrote this letter?"

      "I did."

      "When did you first learn that Mr. Ashton had succeeded in his quest?"

      "At dinner, the night of his arrival. I had not been alone with him, since he came but a short time before the dinner hour. He suddenly rolled the emerald out upon the tablecloth, and looked at me with a glance of triumph."

      "After dinner you had some conversation with Mr. Morgan. What was it?"

      "I told Mr. Morgan my story. He was a stranger to me, but I knew his name and his work, and I had no one upon whom I could rely. I told him I would never marry Mr. Ashton, that rather than do so I would leave the house, and earn my own living. I asked him to help me in any way that he could."

      "And he agreed?"

      "Yes."

      "What did you do then?"

      "I retired to my room, dismissed my maid, and threw myself fully dressed upon the bed."

      "What time was it?"

      "Close to ten o'clock. I heard the hall clock strike the hour shortly after I reached my room."

      "Did you go to sleep?"

      "No. I thought and thought about the terrible situation I was in. I did not want to leave home. I am very fond of my father—he is all I have in the world. Yet I could not make him listen to reason, in regard to this marriage. He was mad to possess this miserable jewel. At last I heard my father and Mr. Ashton come up stairs, and, shortly after, heard my father retire to his own room. I made up my mind to make a last appeal to Mr. Ashton, to tell him under no circumstances to deliver the jewel to my father under the impression that I would marry him, that I would refuse to do so. I wanted also to ask him to give me back my letter and to release me from my unwilling promise. I sprang from the bed, ran out into the hall, and, without thinking of the consequences, went at once to the door of Mr. Ashton's room and knocked. He opened it at once, and, fearing lest I might be seen or heard, by someone if I remained standing in the hall, I entered. Mr. Ashton had evidently been examining the emerald, as I saw it standing upon a table. He had a pen in his hand, and was making a copy of the curious symbol engraved on the base of the image, upon a small piece of paper. He received me with protestations of joy and evidently thought that I had come to him as his accepted wife, but I soon undeceived him, and, after stating my case in a few words, demanded the return of my letter. He was very angry, and at first refused to believe that I was in earnest. He soon saw that I was, however, and became very brutal and refused to release me. He even went so far as to attempt to embrace me, and only by threatening to rouse the house with my screams did I succeed in making him desist. I warned him that I was in absolute earnest, that under no circumstances would I marry him, and then, seeing that nothing further was to be gained, I hurriedly left the room."

      "Did you drop your handkerchief?"

      "I must have done so. The one found in the room belonged to me."

      "Did you by any chance observe whether or not any of the windows in the room were open?"

      "I did. They were all closed. I noticed it instinctively, because, when I first entered the room, I was conscious of the heavy, oppressive atmosphere of the place and, knowing that the room had been long closed, wondered that Mr. Ashton had not opened the windows. I suppose it was because his long stay in the East had rendered him sensitive to our cold English weather."

      "After you left Mr. Ashton's room, what did you do?"

      "I retired to my own room, partially undressed, and again threw myself upon the bed."

      "Did you sleep?"

      "No. I could not."

      "When did you again leave your room?"

      "About five o'clock. I had been thinking all night about leaving the house. I felt that, after the scene the night before with Mr. Ashton, I could not endure another meeting with him. I got up, put on a walking suit and boots, and, throwing a few things into a satchel, stole quietly down stairs, opened the front door and went out."

      "Where did you go?"

      "I—I left the porch, and set out across the lawns, taking a short cut to the main road to the town."

      I observed that Miss Temple was showing a greater and greater appearance of distress as the magistrate pursued inexorably the line of questioning that would lead her to the disclosures which I knew she feared to make. Her face, white and drawn, twitched pathetically under the stress of her emotions. She spoke in a low, penetrating voice, little more than a whisper, yet so silent was the court-room that what she said was audible to its furthermost corner. As I gazed at her in silent pity, I heard the Magistrate ask the next question.

      "How far did you go?"

      "I went—I—I think it must have been about thirty yards—as far as the corner of the house."

      "The corner of the west wing?"

      "Yes." Her voice was growing more and more faint.

      "Why did you not go further? What caused you to stop?"

      "I—I saw somebody upon the roof of the porch."

      "Was it light?"

      "There was a faint light in the sky, of early dawn. I walked over toward the path, and looked up at the porch roof."

      "What did you see?"

      "I saw someone get out of the window from the hall, on to the roof. I—I—They walked over to Mr. Ashton's window and seemed to be trying to open it."

      "Who was it?" The crucial question of all that had been asked her came like the snapping of a lash, and, as she comprehended it, her face became flushed, then ghastly pale.

      "I—I—must I answer that question?"

      "You must."

      "But—I—I cannot!" she burst into sobs, and buried her face in her hands. I feared that she was going