The Murder at Jex Farm | Page 5

of hearing? I asked. She
was not, she declared. Had she heard positively nothing? Nothing but
the roaring of the wind in the chimney and every now and then the
rattling of the windows. Was she absorbed in reading or talk? No, she
was knitting by the fireside. Miss Lewsome had been writing at the
table all the evening. From time to time she had talked with Miss
Lewsome who had remained with her in the room from before sundown
till supper time.
I then examined Miss Lewsome by herself as I had already examined
Mrs. Jex. She corroborated what that lady had said. The wind was loud

that night, said Miss Lewsome. It rattled the windows and made a great
noise in the chimney. She was writing all the evening, she said.
"Forgive my curiosity," I said, "was it something that took up your
attention and would have prevented your hearing a noise outside?" She
hesitated. "I was writing up my diary," she answered. "You keep a
diary?" "Yes." "May I see it?" "Oh no!" she said. "That would be quite
impossible. I could not show it to anyone. You must really not ask to
see it." "I am very sorry," I said, "but I am afraid you must let me read
it." "Why?" "Because I am a police officer, and am here to enquire into
the death by violence of Miss Mary Judson, and because your diary
may throw some light upon the circumstances of the crime." "How can
it help you? It is all--personal; it is all about myself." "I am not in a
position to say how the diary can help me till I have seen it; but see it I
must." She still hesitated; after a pause she asked, "Do you really
insist?" "I must." "She walked to her desk, opened it, and gave me red
leather-covered book with a lock and put it with the key into my hands.
That night I read the diary. The entries were, as Miss Lewsome had told
me, scanty, that is at first referring to such trivial events as her arrival at
the farm, for the diary began with the beginning of her visit. As it went
on, however, the entries became fuller, and the occurrences of the six or
seven days previous to the murder were narrated with considerable
fulness; and before I had ended my perusal of the book certain vague
suspicions that I had already formed in my mind began to gather in
strength and to acquire full corroboration.

EXTRACTS FROM MISS LEWSOME'S DIARY.
October 3.--The more I see of what is going on between Charles and
Mary the more I blame myself for my fatal weakness. Had I only known
of their engagement!... why, oh why, did they keep it a secret from me?
He never should have earned my passion for him--never should have...
oh fool, fool that I have been! Poor Charles, I hardly blame him. In
honour he is bound to poor Mary, and yet I see day by day that he is
getting colder and colder to her and more and more devoted to me. In
honour he can't break off his engagement. Poor fellow too, he needs his

cousin's money. Without it I know ruin stares him in the face. Were it
not for that, as he says, he would break with Mary to-morrow. I believe
him.
October 5.--What am I to do? The situation becomes more and more
difficult every day. I see that I must leave Jex Farm, but it will break
my heart, and I fear it will break Charles's too.
October 6.--Mary suspects nothing, though Charles grows daily colder
to her.
October 11.--Charles and I have had an explanation. I have told him
that I can bear it no longer. He said he could not break off the
engagement; if he could he would. He spoke almost brutally. I must
have Mary's money, he said. Without it my mother, I, my sisters and
brothers and the farm must all go to the devil. I hate the woman, he
cried out. "Don't, don't say that, Charles; it is so dreadfully cruel and
wicked. What has poor Mary done to you?" "She has come between me
and the only woman I ever loved. Is not that enough?" "But you have
told me that your cousin's money must come to you some day or
other?" "Yes, but only on her death." "Don't, Charles it is too
dreadful." "Yes, isn't it? Just awful!" "Well, but..." He laughed. "Oh,
women never understand business, but I see what you are driving at,
my dear, a post obit or a sale of the reversion of Mary's estate, eh?" I
nodded, just wishing to see what his meaning was, but of course never
dreaming