“My superior is here!” said the man pointing to Mr. Sylvester; “an unconscious one I own, but still my superior; and as for my being a member of the force, that was true five years ago, but not today.” And brushing off his whiskers with one hand and taking off his goggles with the other, Hopgood, the janitor, stood before them!
It was a radiant figure that met Cicely, when she came downstairs with Paula, and a joyous group that soon surrounded the now blushing and embarrassed janitor, with questions and remarks concerning this great and unexpected development of affairs. But the fervor with which Mr. Stuyvesant clasped Bertram’s hand, and the look with which Cicely turned from her young lover to bestow a final kiss upon the departing bride, was worth all the pains and self-denial of the last few weeks—or so the janitor thought, who with a quicker comprehension than usual, had divined the situation and rejoiced in the result. But the most curious thing of all was to observe how, with the taking off of his goggles, Hopgood had relapsed into his old shrinking, easily embarrassed self. The man who but a few minutes before had related in their hearing a clear and succinct narrative, now shrank if a question was put him, and stammered in quite his ancient fashion, when he answered Mr. Sylvester’s shake of the hand, by a hurried:
“I am going to see my wife now, sir. She’s a good woman, if a little flighty, and will be the last one in the future to beg me to put more confidence in her. Will you tell me where she is, sir?”
Mr. Sylvester informed him; then added, “But look here, Hopgood, answer me one thing before you go. Why is it that with such talents as you possess, you didn’t stay in the police force? You are a regular genius in your way, and ought not to drone away your existence as a janitor.”
“Ah, sir,” replied the other, shaking his head, “a man who is only capable of assuming one disguise, isn’t good for much as a professional detective. Goggles and red whiskers will deceive one rogue, but not fifty. My eyes were my bane, sir, and ultimately cost me my place. While I could cover them up I was all right. It not only made a man of me, leaving me free to talk and freer to think, but disguised me so, my best friends couldn’t recognize me; but after awhile my goggles were too well known for me to be considered of much further use to the department, and I was obliged to send in my resignation. It is too bad, but I have no versatility, sir. I’m either the clumsy, stammering creature you have always known, or else I am the man Cummins you saw here a few minutes ago.”
“In either case an honest fellow,” answered Mr. Sylvester, and allowed the janitor to depart.
One more scene, and this in the house which Paula is henceforth to make a home for herself and its once melancholy owner. They have come back from their wedding-journey, and are standing in their old fashion, he at the foot, and she halfway up the stairs. Suddenly she turns and descends to his side.
“No, I will not wait,” said she. “Here, on this spot we both love so well, and in this the first hour of our return, I will unburden my mind of what I have to say. Edward, is there nothing of all the past that still rests upon you like a shadow? Not one little regret you could wish taken away?”
“No,” said he, enfolding her in his arms with a solemn smile. “The great gift which I hold is the fruit of that past, perhaps; I cannot wish it changed.”
“But the sense of obligation never fulfilled, would you not be happier if that were removed?”
“Perhaps,” he said, “but it cannot be now. I shall have to live without being perfectly happy.”
She lifted her face and her smile shone like a star. “Oh God is good,” she cried, “you shall not lack being perfectly happy;” and taking a little paper out of her pocket she put it in his hand. “We found that hidden in Jacqueline Japha’s breast, when we went to lay her out for burial.”
It was only a line; but it made Mr. Sylvester’s brow flush and his voice tremble.
“Whatever I own, and I have been told that I am far from penniless, I desire to have given to the dear and disinterested girl that first told me of Margery Hamlin’s vigil.”
“Paula, Paula, Paula, thou art indeed my good gift! May God make me worthy of your love and of this His last and most unexpected mercy!”
And the look which crossed her face, was that sweet and unearthly radiance which speaks of perfect peace.
Endnotes
-
A fact. ↩
Colophon
The Sword of Damocles
was published in by
Anna Katharine Green.
This ebook was produced for
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Cecil New,
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for
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and on digital scans from the
Internet Archive.
The cover page is adapted from
St. Mary-le-Strand,
a painting completed in by
Frederic M. Bell-Smith.
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League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
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May you find forgiveness for yourself and forgive others.
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