Midnight in Beauchampbreau by Anna Catherine Green. It was the last house in Beauchampbreau,
and it stood several rods away from its nearest neighbor. It was a
pretty house in the daytime, but owing to its deep sloping roof and small
be diamond windows, it had a lonesome nook at night, nonwithstanding the crimson
hall light which shone through the leaves of its vine covered doorway. Ned Chivers
lived in it with his six months married bride, and as he was both
a busy fellow and a gay one, there were many evenings when pretty Lady
Shiver sat alone until near midnight. She was of an uncomplaining spirit, however,
and said little, though there were times when both the day and evening
seemed very long, and married life not altogether the paradise she had expected.
On this evening a memorable evening for her, the twenty fourth of December eighteen
ninety four, she had expected her husband to remain with her, for it
was not only Christmas Eve, but the night when, as manager of a
large manufacturing concern, he brought up from New York the money with which to
pay off the men. On the next working day, and he never left
her when there was any unusual amount of money in the house. But from
the first glimpse she had of him coming up the road, she knew she
was to be disappointed in this hope and indignant. Alarmed almost at the prospect
of a lonesome evening under these circumstances, She ran hastily down to the gate
to meet him, crying, oh Nette, you look so troubled. I
know you have only come home for hurried supper, but you cannot leave me
to night. Kenny, their only maid has gone for a holiday, and
I never can stay in this house alone with all that. She pointed to
the small bag he carried, which, as she knew, was filled to
bursting with banknotes. He certainly looked troubled. It is hard to resist the
entreaty in a young bright's uplifted face. But this time he could not help
himself, and he said, I am dreadful sorry, but I must ride
over to Fairbanks to night. Mister Pearson has given me an imperative order to
conclude a matter of business there, and it is very important that it should
be done. I should lose my position if I neglect this matter, and
no one but housebroken soft for knows that we keep the money in the house.
I have always given hour that I entrusted to Hale's safe overnight. But
I cannot stand it, she persisted, you have never left me on these
nights. That is why I let Tenny go. I will spend the evening
at the larches, or Petter still call in. Mister and missus talkin to
keep me company. But her husband did not approve of her going out or
of her having company. The largest was too far away, and as for
mister and Missus Talcott, they were meddlesome people whom he had never liked.
Besides, Missus Talcott was delicate, and the night threatened storm. It seemed
hard to subject her to this ordeal, and he showed that he thought so
by his manner. But as circumstances were, she would have to stay alone,
and he only hoped she would be brave and go to bed like a
good girl and think nothing about the money, which she would take care to
put away in a very safe place, or said he kissing her downcast face.
Perhaps you would rather hide it yourself. Women always have curious ideas about
such things. Yes, let me hide it she murmured, the money,
I mean, not the bag. Everyone knows the bag. I should never
dare to leave it in that, and begging him to unlock it, she
began to empty it with a feverish haste that rather alarmed him, for he
surveyed her anxiously and shook his head as if he dreaded the effects of dis
excitement upon her. But as he saw no way of averting it, he
confined himself to using such soothing words as were at his command, and then,
humoring her weakness, helped her to arrange the bills in the place she
had chosen, and restuffing the bag with old receipts till it acquired its former
dimensions, he put a few bills on top to make the whole look natural,
and, laughing at her white face, relocked the bag and put the
key back in his pocket. There dear a notable scheme, and one nutured.
Relieve your mind entirely, he cried. If anyone should attend burglary in
my absence and should succeed in getting into a as safely locked as this will
be when I leave it, then trust to their being satisfied when they see
this booty which I shall hide. Weear always hide it in the cupboard above
my desk. And when will you be back, she murmured, trembling in
spite of herself at these preparations. By one o'clock, if possible, certainly
by two, and our neighbors go to bitter tend, she murmured. But
the words were low, and she was glad he did not hear them,
for if it was his duty to obey the orders he had received, then
it was her duty to meet the position in which it left her as bravely
as she could. At supper, she was so natural that his face rapidly
brightened, and it was with quite an air of cheerfulness that he rose at
last to lock up the house and make such preparations as were necessary for his
dismal ride over the mountains to Fairbanks. She had the supper dishes to wash
up in Tinny's absence, and as she was a busy little housewife, she
found herself singing a snatch of a song as she passed back and forth from
dining room to kitchen. He heard it, too, and smiled to himself
as he bolted the windows on the ground floor and examined the locks of the
three lower doors, and when he finally came into the kitchen with his great
coat on to give her his final kiss, he had but one parting injunction
to urge, and that was that she should lock the front door after him,
and then forget the whole matter till she heard his double knock at midnight.
She smiled and held up her ingenious face. Be careful of yourself,
she murmured, I hate this dark right for you, and on such a
night too, and she ran with him to the door to look out.
It is certainly very dark, he responded, but I am to have one
of Brown's safest horses. Do not worry about me. I shall do well
enough, and so will you too, Or you are not the plucky little
woman I have always thought you. She laughed, but there was a choking
sound in her voice that made him look at her again. But at sight
of his anxiety, she recovered herself, and, pointing to the clouds,
said earnestly, it's going to snow. Be careful as you ride by the
gorge. Ned it's very deceptive there in a snow storm. But he vowed
that it would not snow before morning, and given her one final embrace,
he dashed down the path towards Brown's livery stable. Oh what is the matter
with me? She murmured to herself, as his steps died out in the
distance. I never knew I was such a coward, And she paused for
a moment, looking up and down the road, as if in spite of
her husband's command. She had the desperate idea of running away to some neighbor,
but she was too loyal for that, and smothering as sight, she
retreated into the house. As she did so, the first flakes fell off
the storm that was not to have come till morning. It took her an
hour to get to her kitchen in order, and nine o'clock struck before she
was ready to sit down. She had been so busy she had not noticed
how the wind had increased, or how rapidly the snow was falling. But
when she went to the front door for another glance up and down the road,
she started back, appalled at the fierceness of the gale and at the
great pile of snow that had already accumulated on the doorstep. Too delicate to
breast such a wind, She saw herself robbed of her last hope of any
companionship, and sighing heavily, she she locked and bolted the door for the
night and went back into her little sitting room, where a great fire was
burning. Here she sat down and determined now that she must pass the evening
alone, to do it as cheerfully as possible, and so began to sew.
Oh what a Christmas Eve, she thought, and a picture of other
homes rose before her eyes, homes in which husband sat by wives, and
brothers by sisters, And a great wave of regret poured over her, and
a longing for something she hardly dared say it, what lest her unhappiness should
acquire a sting that would leave traces beyond the passing moment. The room in
which she sat was the only one on the ground floor except the dining room
and kitchen. It was therefore used both as parlor and sitting room, and
held not only her peace but her husband's desk. Communicating with it was the
tiny dining room. Between the two, however, was an entry leading to
a side entrance. A lamp was in this entry, and she had left
it burning, as well as the one in the kitchen, that the house
might look cheerful and as if all the family were at home. She was
looking toward this entry and wondering whether it was the mist made by her tears
that made it look so dismally dark to her, when there came a faint
sound from the door at its furthest end. But no further sound came from
that direction, and after a few minutes of silent terror, she was allowing
herself to believe that she had been deceived by her fears, when she suddenly
heard the same sound at the kitchen door, followed by a muffled knock.
Frightened, now in good earnest by still alive to the fact that the intruder
was as likely to be a friend as a foe, she stepped to the
door, and, with her hand on the lock, stooped and asked boldly
enough who was there. But she received no answer, and, more affected
by this unexpected silence than by the knock she had heard, she recoiled father
and father till not only the width of the kitchen but the dining room also
lay between her and the scene of her alarm, When, to her utter
confusion, the noise shifted again to the side of the house, and the
door, she thought so securely fastened, flung violently open, as if blown
in by a fierce gust, and she saw precipitated into the entry the burly
figure of a man, covered with snow and shaking with the violence of the
storm that seemed at once to fill the house. Her first thought was that
it was her husband, come back. But before she could clear her eyes
from the cloud of snow which had entered with him, he had thrown off
his outer covering, and she found herself face to face with a man in
whose powerful frame and cynical visage she saw little to comfort her, and much
to surprise and alarm. Boog was his coarse and rather familiar greeting, A
hard night, missus enough to drive any man indoors. Pardon the liberty,
but I couldn't wait for you to lift the latch. The wind drove me
right in. Was was not the door locked, she feebly asked, thinking
he must have staved it in with his foot that looked only too well fitted
for such a task. Not much, he chuckled. I suppose you to
hospital for that, and his eyes passed from her face to the comfortable fire
light shining through the sea is it refuge you want, she demanded, suppressing
as much as possible all signs of fear. Sure, missus, what else?
A man can't live in a gale like that, specially after a tramp
of twenty miles or more? Shall I shut the door for you? He
asked, with a mixture of pravado and good nature that frightened her more and
more. I will shudder, she replied, with half a notion of escaping
the sinister stranger by a flight through the night, But one glance into the
swirling snowstorm deterred her, and, making the best of the alarming situation,
she closed the door, but did not lock it, being more afraid now
of what was inside the house than of anything left to threaten her from without.
The man, whose clothes were dripping with water, watched her with a
cynical smile, and then, without any invitation, entered the dining room,
crossed it, and moved toward the kitchen fire. Uugh, uugh, but
it's warm here, he cried, his nostrils dilating with an animal like enjoyment
that in itself was repugnant to her womanly delicacies. Do you know, missus,
I shall have to stay here all night. Can't go out in that
gale again. Not such a fool. Then, with a sly look at
her trembling form and white face, he insinulatingly added, all alone, missus.
The sudden ness with which this was put together, with the lead that
accompanied it, made her start alone. Yes, but should she acknowledge it?
Would it not be better to say that her husband was upstairs? The
man, evidently thought a struggle going on in her mind for each other,
buckle to himself and called out, quite boldly, never mind, missus,
it's all right. Just give me a bit of cold meat and a cup
of tea or something, and we'll be very comfortable together. You're a slender
slip of a woman to be minding a house like this. I'll keep you
company if you don't mind less twise than til the storm lets up a bit,
which ain't likely for some hours to come. Rough night, missus,
Rough night, I expect my husband at home any time, she hastened to
say, and, thinking she saw a change in the man's countenance at this,
she put on quite an air of sudden satisfaction and bounded towards the front
of the house. There, I think I hear him now, she cried.
Her motive was to gain time and, if possible, to obtain the
opportunity of shifting the money from the place where she had first put it into
another and safer one. I want to be able, she thought of,
swearing, that I have no money with me in this house. If I
can only get it into my apron, I will drop it outside the door
into the snow bank. It will be as safe there as in the bank
it came from. And dashing into the sitting room, she made a feign
of dragging down a shawl from a screen while she secretly filled her skirt with
the bills, which had been put between some old pamphlets on the bookshelves.
She could hear the man grumbling in the kitchen, but he did not follow
her front, and taken advantage of the moment's respite from his non to encouraging
presence, she unbarred the door and cheerfully called out her husband's name. The
ruse was successful. She was able to fling the notes where the falling flakes
would soon cover them from sight, and, feeling more courageous now that the
money was out of the house, she went slowly back saying she had made
a mistake and that it was the wind she had heard. The man gave
a gruff but knowing guff all, and then resumed his watch over her,
following her steps as she proceeded to set him out a meal with a persistency
that reminded her of a tiger just on the point of springing. But the
inviting looks of deviance with which she was rapidly setting the table soon distracted his
attention, and, allowing himself one grunt of satisfaction, he drew up a
chair and set himself down to what to him was evidently a most savory repast.
No beer, no ale, not not a soliday. Don't keep a
bar, he growled, as his teeth closed on a huge hunk of bread.
She shook her head, wishing she had a little cold poison bottled up
in a tight looking jog. Nothing but tea, she smiled, astonished at
her own ease of manner in the presence of this alarming guest. Then let's
have that, he grumbled, taking the bow she handed him with an odd
look that made her glad to retreat to the other side of the room.
Just listen to the howling wind, he went on between the huge mouthfuls of
bread and cheese with which he was gorging himself. But we are very comfortable,
we two. We don't mind the storm doom. We shocked by his
familiarity, and still more moved by the look of mingled inquiry and curiosity with
which his eyes now began to wander over the walls and cupboards. She took
an anxious step towards the side of the house, looking toward her neighbors,
and lifting one of the shades, which had all been religiously pulled down,
She looked out a swirl of snowflakes alone confronted her. She could neither see
her neighbors, nor could she be seen by them. A shout from her
to them would not be heard. She was as completely isolated as if the
house stood in the center of a desolated western plain. I have no trust
but in God, she murmured as she came from the window, and nerved
to meet her fate. She crossed through the kitchen. It was now half
past ten, two hours and a half must elapse before her husband could possibly
arrive. She set her teeth at the thought and walked resolutely into the room.
Are you done, she asked, I am, ma'am he do you
want me to wash the dishes? I can, and I will, And
he actually carried his plate and cup to the sink, where he turned the
water upon them with another loud guffaw. If only his fancy would take him
into the pantry, she thought, I could shut and lock the door upon
him and hold him prisoner till ned gets back. But his fancy ended its
flight at the sink, and before her hopes had fully subsided, he was
standing on the threshold of the sitting room door. It's pretty here, he
exclaimed, allowing his eye to rove again over every hiding place within sight.
I wonder now, he stopped. His glance had fallen on the cupboard over
her husband's desk. Well, she asked, anxious to break the thread of
his thought, which was only too plainly mirrored in his eager countenance. He
started, dropped his eyes and turning, looked at her with a momentary fierceness.
But as she did not let her own glance well, but continued to
look at him with what she meant for a smile on her pale lips,
he subdued this outward manifestation of passion, and chuckling to hide his embarrassment,
began backing into the entry, leering an evident enjoyment of the fears he caused
with what she felt was a most horrible smile. Once in the hall,
he hesitated, however, for a long time. Then he slowly went toward
the garment he had dropped on entering, and stooping, drew from underneath its
fold a wicked looking stick, giving a kick to the coat, which sent
it into a remote corner. He bestowed upon her another smile, and still
carrying the stick, went slowly and reluctantly away into the kitchen. Oh God,
Almighty help me, was her prayer. There was nothing for her to
do now but endure, so, throwing herself into a chair, she tried
to calm the beating of her heart and summon up courage for the struggle which
she felt was before her. That he had come to rob and only waited
to take her off her guard. She now felt, certain and rapidly running
over in her mind all the expedients of self defense possible to one in her
situation. She suddenly remembered the pistol which Ned kept in his desk. Oh,
Why had she not thought of it before? Why had she let herself
grow mad with terror, when here within reach of her hand lay such a
means of self defense? With a feeling of joy. She had always hated
pistols before, and scolded Ned when he bought this one. She started to
her feet and slid her hand into the drawer, but it came back empty.
Ned had taken the weapon away with him for a moment, as search
of the bitterest feeling she had ever experienced passed over her. Then she called
reason to her aid, and was obliged to acknowledge that the act was but
natural, and that from his standpoint, he was much more likely to need
it than herself. But the disappointment coming so soon after hope unnerved her,
and she sank back in her chair, giving herself up for lust. How
long she sat there with her eyes on the door, through which she momentarily
expected her assailant to reappear, she never knew. She was conscious only of
a sort of apathy that made movement difficult, and even breathing a task.
In vain, she tried to change her thoughts. In vain, she tried
to follow her husband in fancy over the snow covered roads and into the gorge
of the mountains. Imagination felt her, at this point do what she would.
All was misty in her mind's eye, and she could not see that
wandering image. There was blankness between his form and her, and no life
or movement anywhere but here in the scene of her terror. Her eyes were
on a strip of rug that covered the entry floor, and so strange was
the condition of her mind that she found herself mechanically counting the tassels that finished
its edge, growing wroth over one that was worn till she hated that sixth
tassel, and mentally determined that if she ever outlived this night, she would
strip them all off and be done with them. The wind had lessened,
but the air had grow cooler, and the snow made a sharp sound where
it struck the panes. She felt it falling, though she had cut off
all view of it. It seemed to her that a paul was setting over
the world, and that she would soon be smothered under its folds. Meanwhile,
no sound came from the kitchen, only the dreadful sense of a doom
creeping upon her, a sense that grew in intensity till she found herself watching
for the shadow of that lifted stick on the wall of the entry, and
almost imagined she saw the tip of it appearing, when without any premonition,
that fatal side door again blew in and admitted another man of so threatening an
aspect that she scumped instantly before him and forgot all her former fears in this
new terror. The second intruder was a Negro of powerful frame and glowering aspect,
and as he came forward and stood in the doorway, there was observable
in his fears and deustpered countenance now attempt at the insinuation of the other,
only a fearful resolution that made her feel like a puppet before him, and
drove her almost without violition to her niece. Money is it money you want?
Was a desperate greeting. If so, here's my purse, and here
are my rings, and watch take them and go. But the stolid wretch
did not even stretch out his hands. His eyes went behind her, and
the mingled anxiety and resolve which he displayed would have cowed a stouter heart and
that of this poor woman. Keep the trash, he growled, I want
the company's money. You've got it two thousand dollars. Show me where it
is, that's all, and I want trouble you long after I close on
it. But it's not in the house, she cried, I swear it
is not in the house. Do you think mister Shivers would leave me here
alone with two thousand dollars to guard? But the negro, swearing that she
light, leaped into the room, and, tearing open the cupboard above her
husband's desk, seized the bag from the corner where they had put it.
He brought it in this he muttered, and tried to force the bag open,
but finding this impossible, he took out a heavy knife and cut a
big hole in its side. Instantly, they fell out the pile of old
receipts with which they had stuffed it, And seeing these he stamped with rage
and flinging them in one great handful at her rush to the drawers below,
empty at them, and finding nothing, attacked the bookcase. The money somewhere
here. Fool me, he yelled. I saw the spot your eyes lit
on when I first came into the room. Is it behind these books?
He growled, pulling them out and throwing them helter skelter over the floor.
Women is smart in the hiding business? Is it behind these books? I
say they had been, or rather had been placed between the books, But
she had taken them away, as we know, And he soon began to
realize that his search was bringing him nothing. For leaving the bookcase, he
gave the books one kick, and, seizing her by the arm, shook
her with a murderous glare on his strange and distorted features. Where's the money,
he hissed, Tell me, or you're a goner. He raised his
heavy fist. She crouched, and all seemed over. Then with a rush
and a cry, a figure dashed between them, and he fell, struck
down by the very stick she had so long been expecting to see fall upon
her own head. The man who had been her terror for hours had,
at the moment of need, acted as her protector. She must have fainted,
but if so, her unconscious was but momentary, for when she again
recognized her surroundings, she found the tramp still standing over her adversary. I
hope you don't mind, ma'am, he said, with an air of umbleness.
She certainly had not seen in him before. But I think the man's
dead, and he stirred with his foot the heavy figure before him. Oh
no, no, no, she cried, that would be too fearful.
He's shocked, stunned. You cannot have killed him. But the tramp was
persistent. I'm fraid I have, he said. I'd done it before,
and it's been the same every time. But I couldn't see a man of
that color frightening a lady like you. My supper was too warm in me,
ma'am. Shall I throw him outside the house, yes, she said,
and then no, let us first be sure there is no life in
him. And, hardly knowing what she did, she stooped down and peered
into the glassy eyes of the prostrate man. Suddenly she turned pale, No,
not pale, but ghastly, and cowering back, shook so that the
tramp, into whose feature a certain refinement had passed since he had acted as
her protector, sought she had discovered life in those set orbs, and was
stooping down to make sure that this was so when he saw her suddenly lean
forward and impetuously plunging her hand into the negro's throat, tear open the shirt
and give one look at his bare breast. It was white. Oh God,
oh God, she moaned, and lifting the head in her two hands,
she gave the motionless features a long and searching look. Water. She
cried, bring water, But before the now obedient tramp could respond, she
had torn off the wooly wig, disfiguring the dead man's head, and seeing
the blonde curls beneath, had uttered such a shriek that it rose above the
gale and was heard by her distant neighbors. It was the head and hair
of her husband. They found out afterwards that he had contemplated this stuff for
months, that each at every precaution possibly to a successful issue, to this
most daring undertaking had been made use of, and that but for the unexpected
presence in the house of the tramp, he would doubtless have not only extorted
the money from his wife, but have so covered up the deed by a
plausible alibi as to have retained her confidence and that of his employers. Whether
the tramp killed him out of sympathy for the defenseless woman or enrage at being
disappointed in his own plans has never been determined. Missus Shivers herself thinks he
was actuated by a rude sort of gratitude, end of midnight in Beauchampbreaux