At Harper's Ferry by Paul Westwood
Chapter 24
The next morning, after leaving Mulholland’s apartment, Jack rode his horse to the Hanson house. The butler answered the door and led him to the same sitting room as before. In the foyer there were several traveling trunks stacked together. He cast a curious glance at these. Arriving at the sitting room, he sat down with his jaw clenched, waiting for Faith to appear.
Within a few moments, she walked in with a faint smile, looking expectantly at Jack to start speaking. He stood as she came in, gave a stiff bow and waited for her to sit. She was still wearing black, apparently in memory of her brother. But strikingly out of place, her hair was pulled back with pair of red ribbons.
Jack cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I had some business to wrap up before I could complete the case.”
“That’s quite understandable, Jack, but it has been hard for me to wait so long.” Her voice still held some sweetness as she said this, and her eyes seemed to reproach him.
“I saw those trunks in the hallway. Are you planning on going somewhere?”
She quickly looked away before answering. “I have an aunt who lives in Baltimore. I was planning on leaving this afternoon to visit her for a few weeks. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen her, and I know how lonely she can get by herself.” She spoke rapidly as if telling a well-rehearsed story.
“Your father must have taken Lawrence’s death hard,” Jack said. “A man in his health must be careful not to have any sudden shocks.”
“Father took it surprisingly well, considering everything that happened the past week,” she replied. “In his mind, I think he wrote Lawrence off a long time ago. He was always getting into some type of trouble, and my father had to bail him out. Now my father can relax and enjoy his last remaining years.”
He replied flatly, “Yes, I suppose so.”
Suddenly she had a flurry of questions. “What happened at Harper’s Ferry? Did you get the papers back? Has the Hanson family name been cleared?”
His answer was sharp and short. “It was a difficult trip, but the papers were never delivered to the Secessionists. Davis never had a chance against me.”
Faith’s hand quickly came to her mouth, and then slowly returned to her lap. “Davis? What happened to him?”
Jack felt sick to his stomach, but he continued. “Let’s just say that things worked out so that I was able to stop him from escaping.”
“What did you do?” she asked, clutching her hands together.
“I shot him as he tried to make his way over to the safety of the Virginia Militia. He fell over the side of a bridge and left the papers in his saddlebags. I got them back.”
“I never would have guessed that Davis could do something so evil. So the papers have been returned? There is no more reason for Mister Forsythe to bother us?”
“I didn’t exactly say that; not all of the papers have been returned,” Jack replied, putting emphasis on each word. “Someone else, I imagine here in Washington, is still holding the rest of them.” His mouth became a grim line.
“Who could that be?” she asked. She leaned forward, looking worried.
“It means that Davis gave the rest of the papers to someone else before he made his escape to Harper’s Ferry. He did not want to be captured holding something that could very well have hanged him. So he fled Washington with Stevenson, hoping to get over to the Secessionists to sell them the plans. After they came to an agreed price he was going to send for the rest of the papers to be delivered at a different time by a different courier.” Jack cleared his throat. He was getting tired of hearing his own voice, and he was even more tired of seeing Faith’s false gestures. It would be better to leave, but he had to finish. He felt he owed it to himself and his remaining sense of honor to do it this way.
He sighed before he continued. “Last night, Ezra and I returned to Washington. We then went to visit Abbott. Problem was that he wasn’t ready to receive guests. Somebody murdered him. This same somebody wanted to keep their involvement with him secret.”
“Who would murder him?”
“We know it wasn’t Davis or Stevenson who killed him since they are both dead. And the Secessionist spy wasn’t available to murder either.”
“How do you know that?” Faith asked; her face was pale, and Jack could see she was breathing harder than normal.
“Miss Edmonds is currently being kept in jail for a few days and can't hurt anyone right now. But I do know who ever killed Abbott was a woman. They wanted to protect themselves from anyone ever finding out their true involvement with the murder of Lawrence.”
Faith’s face was even paler, and her hands clutched the side of the chair. “Who would do that?” she asked in a whisper.
Jack stood up and took a step closer to her. His voice was rough with emotions he didn’t want to think about. “It was the same person who was willing to hold the papers for Davis. It was the same person who was still in love with Davis and was willing to kill Abbott so she wouldn’t have anyone left in Washington who could reveal her true motives. Abbott was wise enough to know how Davis operated. He still wanted his cut of the loot even though he compromised Davis. The person that Ethan Davis gave the papers to was you.”
Her eyes opened wide in shock, and she half stood up from the chair. She looked at the open door as if ready to flee.
“Now I want you to sit still and listen to me,” Jack said. He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her back in to the chair. “You aren’t going anywhere until you hear me out.”
Faith slowly nodded her head and then stared at the floor.
“You knew your brother was seeing a married woman,” he continued. “In the course of our investigation, I spoke to Elizabeth Mulholland. She was having an affair with Davis until he decided he had had enough of her. But he wasn’t quite finished with her and wanted to use her to get a hold over Lawrence. It was you who introduced Lawrence to her. You did that on Davis’s suggestion.”
“I did nothing of the kind! Who told you these lies?” she said, her voice rising.
“Elizabeth Mulholland told me of your love for Davis.” Jack’s voice dripped with anger. “She told me all about Davis and you. There’s no point in lying to me anymore.”
“That’s not true,” Faith countered, a faint sob choking her voice. “I met Davis through my brother, but I was never his lover. He was just a family friend after he gave up the idea of marrying me.”
He ignored her and continued. “Lawrence was at first just another blackmail job for Davis and Abbott. But when Lawrence got his job at the War Department through your father, he became something more. Once the war broke out, it was a golden opportunity for Davis. Your brother had access to vital information that could be traded for money. Part of it may have been out of loyalty for the South, but it was mostly his own greed that led him to use your brother. At the same time, Davis dropped you from his life. He no longer wanted to spend his time with you, but you still wanted him.”
“I’ll tell you again, I didn’t have anything to do with this,” she protested feebly. She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.
“You were afraid to lose Davis and more importantly, your cut of the money. After your brother disappeared, you knew all along that he was taken by Stevenson and Abbott at Davis’s order. You knew all along that it was Davis was the one who held the plans. That’s when you hired me. You wanted revenge, but most of all you wanted to put a scare into the man who once spurned you. The only thing you didn’t count on was Davis’ experience. He was an old hand at this kind of game. He didn’t scare easily and was still willing to take a gamble with you staying quiet about your dealings in this matter. If he could buy enough time, then he could get rid of the papers before Lawrence’s dead body was discovered.”
Faith was quiet for a while. Her face had become peaceful and her sobs less frequent. The words came slowly. “Davis could be q
uite ruthless,” she admitted, her voice low. “The death of my brother is proof enough of that. But you must be crazy to think I would have let him take Lawrence from me.”
“But that’s exactly what you did do. You were willing to do anything to get Davis back.”
“No!” she shouted. Her face red with anger, she stood up and pulled a derringer from her sleeve. Although her hands were shaking, her movements were quick and determined.
Jack grabbed her wrists and pushed her roughly back down into the chair. He pulled the gun out of her hand and held it in his own. She sobbed and hugged herself as she rocked back and forth.
He looked over the diminutive gun and sniffed the barrel. It had been fired recently and still smelled of blackpowder. He slipped it in his coat pocket. Jack then continued as if nothing had happened. “When Davis left Washington, he gave you the papers, knowing he could bend you to his will. Later you met up with Abbott at his place, and you wouldn’t agree to his demands. I'm sure he just wanted a cut of the action, thinking that Davis had left him in the lurch. You killed him. You shot him with the derringer given to you by Davis - the very same one you just tried to shoot me with now. You see, Davis had an identical one in the saddlebag I retrieved.”
“Abbott didn’t want to listen to me,” she whispered. “He threatened to turn me in if I didn’t give him the papers. He actually laughed at me and called me a traitor to my own brother. Then he tried to take me by force. I tried to warn him, but my gun went off accidentally and he was killed. I didn’t mean to do it.” She started to gently sob.
Jack looked at her sadly. He had no reason to love her anymore, but it still hurt to be in the same room with her.
“What are you going to do with me?” Faith asked. Her voice was low, and cracked with emotion.
“Nothing,” he replied. “There’s very little real evidence against you. Just give me the papers back and I will let you go. If you try to hide them from me, I’ll have Henry Garrett come and get them.”
She shuffled out to the hallway. Jack followed her to the trunks stacked in the foyer. She opened the case on top and pulled out a bundle of papers tied up with string. She handed them over, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
He untied the string and looked quickly through the papers. They were real. He tied them up again and prepared to leave.
Faith licked her lips, and looked up into his eyes. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you letting me go?”
Jack turned to go, unable to look at her any longer. “I’m not sure and I don’t think I ever will be.”
The next morning, after leaving Mulholland’s apartment, Jack rode his horse to the Hanson house. The butler answered the door and led him to the same sitting room as before. In the foyer there were several traveling trunks stacked together. He cast a curious glance at these. Arriving at the sitting room, he sat down with his jaw clenched, waiting for Faith to appear.
Within a few moments, she walked in with a faint smile, looking expectantly at Jack to start speaking. He stood as she came in, gave a stiff bow and waited for her to sit. She was still wearing black, apparently in memory of her brother. But strikingly out of place, her hair was pulled back with pair of red ribbons.
Jack cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I had some business to wrap up before I could complete the case.”
“That’s quite understandable, Jack, but it has been hard for me to wait so long.” Her voice still held some sweetness as she said this, and her eyes seemed to reproach him.
“I saw those trunks in the hallway. Are you planning on going somewhere?”
She quickly looked away before answering. “I have an aunt who lives in Baltimore. I was planning on leaving this afternoon to visit her for a few weeks. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen her, and I know how lonely she can get by herself.” She spoke rapidly as if telling a well-rehearsed story.
“Your father must have taken Lawrence’s death hard,” Jack said. “A man in his health must be careful not to have any sudden shocks.”
“Father took it surprisingly well, considering everything that happened the past week,” she replied. “In his mind, I think he wrote Lawrence off a long time ago. He was always getting into some type of trouble, and my father had to bail him out. Now my father can relax and enjoy his last remaining years.”
He replied flatly, “Yes, I suppose so.”
Suddenly she had a flurry of questions. “What happened at Harper’s Ferry? Did you get the papers back? Has the Hanson family name been cleared?”
His answer was sharp and short. “It was a difficult trip, but the papers were never delivered to the Secessionists. Davis never had a chance against me.”
Faith’s hand quickly came to her mouth, and then slowly returned to her lap. “Davis? What happened to him?”
Jack felt sick to his stomach, but he continued. “Let’s just say that things worked out so that I was able to stop him from escaping.”
“What did you do?” she asked, clutching her hands together.
“I shot him as he tried to make his way over to the safety of the Virginia Militia. He fell over the side of a bridge and left the papers in his saddlebags. I got them back.”
“I never would have guessed that Davis could do something so evil. So the papers have been returned? There is no more reason for Mister Forsythe to bother us?”
“I didn’t exactly say that; not all of the papers have been returned,” Jack replied, putting emphasis on each word. “Someone else, I imagine here in Washington, is still holding the rest of them.” His mouth became a grim line.
“Who could that be?” she asked. She leaned forward, looking worried.
“It means that Davis gave the rest of the papers to someone else before he made his escape to Harper’s Ferry. He did not want to be captured holding something that could very well have hanged him. So he fled Washington with Stevenson, hoping to get over to the Secessionists to sell them the plans. After they came to an agreed price he was going to send for the rest of the papers to be delivered at a different time by a different courier.” Jack cleared his throat. He was getting tired of hearing his own voice, and he was even more tired of seeing Faith’s false gestures. It would be better to leave, but he had to finish. He felt he owed it to himself and his remaining sense of honor to do it this way.
He sighed before he continued. “Last night, Ezra and I returned to Washington. We then went to visit Abbott. Problem was that he wasn’t ready to receive guests. Somebody murdered him. This same somebody wanted to keep their involvement with him secret.”
“Who would murder him?”
“We know it wasn’t Davis or Stevenson who killed him since they are both dead. And the Secessionist spy wasn’t available to murder either.”
“How do you know that?” Faith asked; her face was pale, and Jack could see she was breathing harder than normal.
“Miss Edmonds is currently being kept in jail for a few days and can't hurt anyone right now. But I do know who ever killed Abbott was a woman. They wanted to protect themselves from anyone ever finding out their true involvement with the murder of Lawrence.”
Faith’s face was even paler, and her hands clutched the side of the chair. “Who would do that?” she asked in a whisper.
Jack stood up and took a step closer to her. His voice was rough with emotions he didn’t want to think about. “It was the same person who was willing to hold the papers for Davis. It was the same person who was still in love with Davis and was willing to kill Abbott so she wouldn’t have anyone left in Washington who could reveal her true motives. Abbott was wise enough to know how Davis operated. He still wanted his cut of the loot even though he compromised Davis. The person that Ethan Davis gave the papers to was you.”
Her eyes opened wide in shock, and she half stood up from the chair. She looked at the open door as if ready to flee.
“Now I want you to sit still and listen to me,” Jack said. He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her back in to the chair. “You aren’t going anywhere until you hear me out.”
Faith slowly nodded her head and then stared at the floor.
“You knew your brother was seeing a married woman,” he continued. “In the course of our investigation, I spoke to Elizabeth Mulholland. She was having an affair with Davis until he decided he had had enough of her. But he wasn’t quite finished with her and wanted to use her to get a hold over Lawrence. It was you who introduced Lawrence to her. You did that on Davis’s suggestion.”
“I did nothing of the kind! Who told you these lies?” she said, her voice rising.
“Elizabeth Mulholland told me of your love for Davis.” Jack’s voice dripped with anger. “She told me all about Davis and you. There’s no point in lying to me anymore.”
“That’s not true,” Faith countered, a faint sob choking her voice. “I met Davis through my brother, but I was never his lover. He was just a family friend after he gave up the idea of marrying me.”
He ignored her and continued. “Lawrence was at first just another blackmail job for Davis and Abbott. But when Lawrence got his job at the War Department through your father, he became something more. Once the war broke out, it was a golden opportunity for Davis. Your brother had access to vital information that could be traded for money. Part of it may have been out of loyalty for the South, but it was mostly his own greed that led him to use your brother. At the same time, Davis dropped you from his life. He no longer wanted to spend his time with you, but you still wanted him.”
“I’ll tell you again, I didn’t have anything to do with this,” she protested feebly. She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.
“You were afraid to lose Davis and more importantly, your cut of the money. After your brother disappeared, you knew all along that he was taken by Stevenson and Abbott at Davis’s order. You knew all along that it was Davis was the one who held the plans. That’s when you hired me. You wanted revenge, but most of all you wanted to put a scare into the man who once spurned you. The only thing you didn’t count on was Davis’ experience. He was an old hand at this kind of game. He didn’t scare easily and was still willing to take a gamble with you staying quiet about your dealings in this matter. If he could buy enough time, then he could get rid of the papers before Lawrence’s dead body was discovered.”
Faith was quiet for a while. Her face had become peaceful and her sobs less frequent. The words came slowly. “Davis could be q
“But that’s exactly what you did do. You were willing to do anything to get Davis back.”
“No!” she shouted. Her face red with anger, she stood up and pulled a derringer from her sleeve. Although her hands were shaking, her movements were quick and determined.
Jack grabbed her wrists and pushed her roughly back down into the chair. He pulled the gun out of her hand and held it in his own. She sobbed and hugged herself as she rocked back and forth.
He looked over the diminutive gun and sniffed the barrel. It had been fired recently and still smelled of blackpowder. He slipped it in his coat pocket. Jack then continued as if nothing had happened. “When Davis left Washington, he gave you the papers, knowing he could bend you to his will. Later you met up with Abbott at his place, and you wouldn’t agree to his demands. I'm sure he just wanted a cut of the action, thinking that Davis had left him in the lurch. You killed him. You shot him with the derringer given to you by Davis - the very same one you just tried to shoot me with now. You see, Davis had an identical one in the saddlebag I retrieved.”
“Abbott didn’t want to listen to me,” she whispered. “He threatened to turn me in if I didn’t give him the papers. He actually laughed at me and called me a traitor to my own brother. Then he tried to take me by force. I tried to warn him, but my gun went off accidentally and he was killed. I didn’t mean to do it.” She started to gently sob.
Jack looked at her sadly. He had no reason to love her anymore, but it still hurt to be in the same room with her.
“What are you going to do with me?” Faith asked. Her voice was low, and cracked with emotion.
“Nothing,” he replied. “There’s very little real evidence against you. Just give me the papers back and I will let you go. If you try to hide them from me, I’ll have Henry Garrett come and get them.”
She shuffled out to the hallway. Jack followed her to the trunks stacked in the foyer. She opened the case on top and pulled out a bundle of papers tied up with string. She handed them over, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
He untied the string and looked quickly through the papers. They were real. He tied them up again and prepared to leave.
Faith licked her lips, and looked up into his eyes. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you letting me go?”
Jack turned to go, unable to look at her any longer. “I’m not sure and I don’t think I ever will be.”