The Loudwater TragedySpeight, T. W. (Thomas Wilkinson)
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The Loudwater Tragedy
Speight, T. W. (Thomas Wilkinson)
Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 19th century; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
"Such was the state of affairs on Friday, the 18th of September.
Richard had gone for his annual holiday about ten days before.
Sometimes I felt sad and lonely without him, missing his bright,
vivacious talk and those half-veiled glances the meaning of which
could be read by me alone; at other times I wished most devoutly that
I might never set eyes on him again.
"At eight o'clock that evening I saw my husband off on his way to Mr.
Arbour's for his usual rubber of whist. After that I sat down with the
intention of writing a long letter to my friend, Mrs. Simpson. I was
alone in the little sitting-room at the back of the drawing-room. The
servants were all below stairs. Your mother had gone to her own room
at the further end of the long corridor, and Miss Armishaw with her. I
had got about half-way through my letter when a slight noise caused me
to turn my head, and there in the open doorway I beheld Richard
Dyson! Next instant he came forward and fell on his knees at my feet.
His dress was disordered, his face was as white as that of corpse,
while his eyes were charged with horror and fear, the like of which I
have never seen in those of anyone else. 'Save me! Save me!' were the
first words he gave utterance to.
"I have no wish to weary you, and will relate, as succinctly as
possible, the story told me by Richard on that memorable night.
"Lack of funds had brought him back from his holidays two or three
days before he was due at business. He had been compelled to leave his
luggage in pawn at the seaside hotel where he had been staying. Not
wishing it to be known, for private reasons of his own, that he had
come back before his time, he had alighted from the train at a station
a couple of miles away, and was making his way through some of the
back streets to his lodgings, when he came face to face with Mr.
Melray. The recognition was mutual. It would seem that Richard had
been guilty of something at which my husband had just cause to be
offended, but of what nature the something in question was even now I
have no knowledge. In any case, Mr. Melray insisted on Richard there
and then accompanying him back to his office. Once there, they appear
to have got to high words, one thing leading to another, till at
length Mr. Melray threatened Richard with some kind of public
exposure. There was a struggle for the possession of some papers, and
in the result my husband unhappily came by his death. On his knees
Richard swore to me by everything he held sacred that it was purely an
accident. Well, I believed him. Some people might say that, instead of
putting credence in what he told me, I ought there and then to have
denounced him as a murderer; but to me it seemed too terrible a thing
to credit that he could wilfully have been guilty of such a crime.
But, be that as it may, when he appealed to me to save him I felt it
impossible to reject his appeal. From Friday night till an early hour
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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