Chapter XXII: Kitty Bell’s Story

If we retrace our steps and enter William Dow’s study when he admitted Mrs. Gobson, we shall witness a scene which explains how the events came about which we have just described.

Ada, absorbed in her love, had just crossed the threshold of this room, when the man, from whom she expected only smiles, suddenly looked stern, and drawing back, looked and pointed at the body of a woman lying on a lounge.

“Miss Ada, Miss Ada!” cried Mrs. Gobson.

“You confess, then, Kitty Bell?” said William Dow.

It was then that the unhappy woman uttered the cry of terror and despair of which we have spoken, and who, not being able to endure such emotion, had fallen almost lifeless to the floor.

At the sound, Young and Saunders rushed from the sleeping-room into the library.

Words could not picture the amazement of the cracker-merchant. He at first sprang toward Mrs. Gobson, as if to help her; but the detective stopped him, pointing to the lounge where lay the woman of wax, and the poor man, his face looking wild and discomposed, stood motionless, wondering which of these two women was his own Ada.

Fearing that such a shock might be too violent for the ill-balanced brain of Saunders, William Dow hastened to say:

“Calm yourself, my friend; the woman you loved is really dead; this body is only the cast I had made in the secret hope that it would serve me some day. As for this woman, her strange resemblance to Miss Ada made her the accomplice of James Gobson; but it is she who will become our instrument of justice and vengeance.”

And that the too impressionable Yankee might not longer have under his eyes the image which fascinated him, he carried it from his sight.

At this unexpected spectacle, Young manifested no sensibility, but divining, in spite of his moderate intelligence, that his friend Dow was going to take his revenge, he gave him a look of admiration. Then he leaned down to Mrs. Gobson and bore her to a lounge, where, in a few moments, she began to recover consciousness.

“Kitty Bell,” said William to her, when he saw that she was in a condition to understand him, “rouse yourself; your fate is in your own hands.”

“Kitty Bell! Why do you call me that name, Mr. Murray?” stammered the young woman.

“Because it is your name. My name is William Dow. And look at those gentlemen--you will recognize them, perhaps.”

Mrs. Gobson looked alternately at Young and Saunders, and her face, which had began to resume its rosy coloring, became livid. She knew that she was lost.

“Hear these few lines,” resumed the detective, who had drawn from his pocket-book a sheet of paper covered with printed characters and manuscript:

To-day, the twentieth of February, 184--, by us, Armand Rebours,
vicar of the parish of St. Joseph, have been baptized according to
the rites of the Holy Church, Catholic, Apostolic and Roman, Kitty
and Anna Bell, born the thirteenth of this month, twin sisters, and
daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Bell, in presence of these the witnesses:
Jack Howey, Bernard Lowe, godfathers, and Mary Fellen and Lucy
Molden, godmothers.

(Signed)

ARMAND REBOURS, Priest.

EDWARD BERNEY,
Rector of the parish of St. Joseph.

ROBERT HALL,
Coroner of the said parish.

New Orleans, June 14, 186--.

Mrs. Gobson was so overcome she could not speak, but her eyes spoke for her, and so entreatingly that William Dow continued:

“You are Kitty Bell, and this wax statue is all that remains of your sister Anna, whom Gobson murdered, and whose name and place you took owing to your wonderful resemblance to her.”

“My sister!” she cried, at this horrible revelation, “my sister. Oh! gentlemen, you did not think me an accomplice in this frightful crime.” She had thrown herself on her knees, holding out her hands imploringly to her judges, and she repeated between her sobs: “No, no; do not believe it, I entreat you.”

There was the ring of truth in her prayer, and William himself was moved by it. He leaned over toward her, raised her and forced her to seat herself in the arm-chair she had just left, and knowing that tears are the best sedative, he let her weep a few minutes, then said:

“I believe you, but you must confess the whole truth, conceal nothing from us, and afterwards you must obey me.”

“Do with me as you will, gentlemen,” groaned the weeping woman. “My poor Anna, I have not heard from her for more than ten years. I thought she resided in New Orleans with our family, where she met this wretch who has destroyed my life. Our mother was dead, and our father did not trouble himself about us. I did not know of Gobson’s marriage. And it was that infamous man Gobson who married her, and I--I was in his power, and then I became his wife. Oh! it is horrible. Let me----”

Saying thus, Kitty Bell struggled in the arms of William Dow and Young, who stopped her as she was going to jump out of the window. They carried her into the sleeping-room and laid her on an easy-chair.

Saunders, who witnessed this scene with an air of amazement impossible to describe, followed them. A few moments later Mrs. Gobson became a little calmer, and William Dow having urged her to acquaint him with the slightest details of her relations with James Gobson, she said, weeping:

“I became acquainted with James Gobson hardly six months ago at San Francisco. I was employed in an establishment where this man was an habitue. He paid court to me; I was tolerably happy, in spite of the scenes when he was intoxicated. One day I wished to break off with him because in an angry fit he wounded me in pulling out one of my ear-rings, but he apologized so humbly for his rudeness, and took such good care of me, that I forgave him. Why was I so weak?”

“Go on, Kitty, don’t forget anything,” said the detective.

“About a fortnight after this occurrence, he gave me a cup of tea, and I fell into a strange sleep. It lasted about three or four hours at least. When I awoke he was near me, looking at me anxiously. ‘You fainted,’ he said, ‘and in falling you came near killing yourself. Happily, you are all right now.’ I felt a sharp pain in my mouth. I put my hand to it and drew it away covered with blood. I sprang to a looking-glass. A tooth was gone, on the right side. I uttered a cry of despair and the wretch tried to console me. I had broken a tooth he declared in slipping against a piece of furniture. This accident caused me alarm, for I was not subject to fainting turns. But from that moment Gobson became so gentle, and anxious, and generous, that I did not express a wish that was not gratified, and I soon forgot the event.”

“You now understand what his object was.”

“Oh! yes, the wretch; my poor Anna. We were so alike when we lived together that father, in order to distinguish us himself, made us wear velvet bands of different colors around our throats.”

“Now, as Gobson had torn his wife’s ear and broken out a tooth, the one who was to replace her must lose a tooth and have a cut on her ear. Go on; tell about your departure from San Francisco.”

“We left San Francisco toward the month of November, of last year, and went to Washington, where I lived in a little country house in complete retirement. Gobson I did not see for weeks, but after being absent he showed me much affection, and said, after returning from his journeys, that he was working for my happiness, and as he wished soon to marry me, I obeyed. However, I instinctively feared him. I would have liked to end with him. Such was the state of things when one day in January, James came to me in a state of exaltation which frightened me. What he said to me then, oh! I do not believe I could reveal.”

“You must; your testimony is indispensable,” said William Dow, sternly; “for your fate depends on your frankness in telling what else you can make known. Besides, do you not wish to avenge your sister?”

“Yes, yes; I must,” answered Kitty, raising her head, that she had concealed in her hands, and, speaking hurriedly, she continued:

“He told me about a woman whom I resembled in so extraordinary a manner that every one took me for her. Her name was Ada Ricard. A Colonel Forster was in love with her. With audacity and coolness I could pass for her. He himself would take me to this colonel, who had promised him quite a large sum.

“‘Mr. Forster,’ he added, ‘hardly knows Miss Ada; his error will be complete; he will adore you, and as he is rich and generous, you will have all you wish.’ It was horrible, but it was a chance to get away from Gobson, who alarmed me, and I consented. He gave me even the slightest details about Ada Ricard’s life, for he learned them from some one who lived in her house; finally he taught me to play the part. I held myself in readiness and one morning we set out for New York, where we arrived during the night. He procured lodgings for me in a house which I should not recognize again, for although we went on foot, it was in a dense fog. I think it was in a horrible neighborhood and that the streets were narrow and muddy. The river was about two hundred steps beyond. After locking the door of my room and providing me with the necessary provisions, he left me alone in this house all the next day. It was Tuesday, I remember, and he came back at about two o’clock in the morning and brought a bundle, which he opened before me. It contained the costume of an Indian woman in the time of the Incas. He bade me put it on. I then had a gloomy presentiment, for Gobson was pale and much more moved than he wished to appear. But he said to me in so threatening a tone, ‘Let us have done quickly; it was in this disguise that Miss Ada was carried off, and you must go to Colonel Forster dressed as she was.’ I was afraid, and did not dare ask what had become of the woman whose place I was to take. I dressed as Gobson ordered me and according to his directions. He had foreseen everything at each of the colonel’s stopping-places. I was to send him word, with the initials ‘A. Z.,’ to Baltimore immediately, and announce my return in the same manner. If anything happened to him I must, on returning to New York, boldly present myself at No. 17 East Twenty-third Street, where I should find a woman, Mary, who would recognize me as Miss Ada.”

Kitty Bell spoke the name of her sister with so much emotion that sobs choked her voice.

After leaving her a moment to recover, William Dow ordered her to continue her story.

“This servant,” continued the young woman, weeping, “was the accomplice of that wretch. All passed as Gobson had arranged. As soon as I was ready he made me cross the river and meet Colonel Forster, who had not the least suspicion of my identity. When I reached Baltimore I learned the mysterious crime through the papers. I understood it thus, but I was afraid to confess the truth, and I acknowledge that, maddened at being duped and in the power of James Gobson, I wished to play my part to the end to avenge myself on him. If it had not been for the accident to the hangman, Meyer, I should have been late enough not to have seen him. I knew what day had been fixed for the execution, and that is why I did not return to New York until the hour when I thought all over. But fate decided it should be otherwise, and that I must save the wretch from the gallows. You know the rest; but I swear to you, on my eternal salvation--oh! however low I may have fallen, I should not dare to be false in swearing this--I swear to you that when I was forced to escape from Gobson by means of Colonel Forster, I did not know that Miss Ada had been murdered, and only here in this room have I learned that Gobson’s victim was his wife and that she was my sister, my unhappy Anna. Now, do with me as you will; deliver me up to justice; kill me or let me die.”

“No, Kitty Bell, you shall not die, and the law will be indulgent toward you; why, you must help us to punish the guilty.”

“I obey your commands.”

“The costume of an Indian woman in which you deceived a lover of Ada Ricard, you must once more wear, in order that we may attack the guilty man.”

Saying this, the detective drew from a chest a dress absolutely like that worn by Ada Ricard the night she was carried away, and while Kitty Bell was dressing, with the aid of Young he transported the wax statue to Mrs. Gobson’s bed.

The reader is familiar with the subsequent movements, and let us now return to the room where we left James Gobson in the hands of Young and William Dow.