A Duel of Hearts

1-3

He was lying crumpled up on the ground, one leg pinned under him, his arms outstretched, his hands wide-open as if in utter defencelessness, and his head thrown back so that from where Caroline stood she could only see the sharp line of his jaw. Horror stricken she stood there, seeing as if in a nightmare the moonlight shining on the buckles of his shoes, on the buttons of his black coat, and on a burnished knife-hilt where it stood out from the front of his neck. Below it a dark stream stained the purity of his frilled shirt.

For a moment Caroline’s wits seemed to leave her, and she could only stand and stare, not asking herself whether she should go forward or go back, but paralysed with the horror of those white empty hands motionless on the rough grass. And then, as she looked and kept on looking, she heard someone coming.

The movement had come from the other side of the wood firmly, purposefully, someone was approaching. There was a crackling of dry-sticks, the rustle as if a man thrust his way impatiently through the branches of the trees.

At last, just as the footsteps seemed to reach the clearing itself, Caroline moved. She was for turning and running away, following the path down which she had come even though it led her back to the inn but her knees felt too weak to carry her, and a sudden overwhelming faintness made her go no further than the trunk of a great oak tree against which she leant.

‘I must get away,’ she told herself, and yet she could not move.

It was a frailty for which she despised herself but in all her sheltered life she had never seen a dead man before, and his death cry was still echoing in her ears.

She leant against the oak and saw a man step into the clearing. He was tall and wearing a high beaver hat, his blue coat and buckskin breeches were exquisitely cut, and even in that bemused moment Caroline guessed that he was a gentleman of importance by the way he held his head and the commanding way with which he pushed his way through the bushes and into the clearing.

He walked on and saw the man lying on the ground.

“By God! What is this?”

He spoke aloud and his voice seemed to echo sharply amongst the trees.

It was that sound, the sound of a human voice which made Caroline take hold of her failing consciousness.

“I must away,” she whispered through, dry lips, and turned once again towards the path down which she had come.

The gentleman in the clearing must have seen her movement, for even as she took two steps from the shelter of the oak he looked towards her, and whipped a pistol from his pocket.

“Stop!” he called. ‘Who are you? Come here this instant!”

Caroline stopped. There was something in the stranger’s voice which demanded obedience. Very slowly she came forward into the moonlight.

“A woman!” the gentleman exclaimed and put the pistol back in his pocket

He swept off his hat.

“Your pardon, Madam. I was not expecting to find a lady lurking here and in such circumstances.”

His voice was steady and quite unperturbed and Caroline found it stiffened her pride, so although she was still frightened and her hands were trembling, she was able to drop him a curtsey.

The moonlight was full on his face. She found herself looking at the most handsome man she had ever, seen in her life. The moonlight turned his hair to bronze, but his eyes, set wide apart beneath a broad forehead, were grey as steel and seemed strangely penetrating.

“Might I ask what you are doing here, Ma’am?” he enquired, as Caroline did not, speak, “and also if you have any knowledge of this?”

He indicated with his hat the body on the ground. His voice was quiet and yet so authoritative that Caroline felt compelled to offer him some explanation of her presence.

“I was – walking through the wood, sir, when I heard voices , – then suddenly there came a cry – a cry of terror or of pain – afterwards. I heard someone moving quickly in that direction.”

She made a little gesture with her hand, and was conscious as she did so of the dirt on it.

The gentleman replaced his hat on his head and kneeling down, felt for the fallen man’s heart.

“Is he – quite dead?” Caroline asked, and try as she would she could not prevent a tremble in her voice.

“Without any doubt, whoever struck the blow struck to kill.”

He got up and stood looking down at the man’s face. ‘Strange,” he said, as if speaking to himself. “Strange, very strange indeed, for I was to meet him here.”

“You know – the man, sir?”

“Yes, I know him. He is a lawyer called Isaac Rosenberg. A rascal it is true, but I would not have even rascals meet their death in such an unpleasant fashion.”

“And you came here to meet him, sir?” Caroline asked.

She did not know why she was so curious, but something made her want to know more about this stranger.

“Yes, at his invitation,” he said quietly, “and that reminds me...”

He looked down at the dead man, dropped once again, on one knee and put his hand into the lawyer’s pocket.

“Ah, they are here!” he exclaimed, and there was satisfaction in his tone.

He drew out a packet of letters. Caroline could see there were perhaps half a dozen of them tied together with tape and sealed with a red seal. The gentleman slipped them into his own pocket, then he hesitated a moment and murmured as if under his breath,

“I wonder if they are all here?”

He felt in the dead man’s other coat pocket which was empty, and then inserted his hand in. the inside breast pocket. There was something there - a sheet of writing paper. He glanced at it and. stood upright suddenly tense.

Caroline, looking up at him, thought once again that he was, without exception, the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life and yet there was something strange in his face. It was an expression she could not fathom for the moment and then, as she watched, he crumpled the piece of writing paper in his hand and threw back his head with a sudden sharp laugh which had no humour in it.

“The devil takes it, but someone has paid a wonderful attention to detail.”

“What is it sir?” Caroline asked

He looked at her as if he had almost forgotten her presence.

“It is a jest, Madam,” he replied, and his voice was sarcastic. “A monstrous jest, I grant you, but one which will doubtless give pleasure though not to me personally.”

“I do not understand,” Caroline said.

“Why should you?” he asked. “But I will explain. This poor rogue here has been murdered for the express purpose of putting a rope round my neck. He was invited here to meet me. I was lured to this very spot. Here he is dead at my feet, and here am I all ready for justice to overtake me?”

“But, sir,’ Caroline exclaimed. “You did not kill him, I can swear to that.”

“Why, so you can! That indeed makes the joke even more enjoyable. Who knows you are in these woods?”

“No one, sir! No one at all. I did not intend to be in them myself until but a short while back.”

The gentleman, threw back his head and laughed again.

“The jest grows vastly more amusing,” he said, “and what is more, the plot becomes further entangled. How angry the perpetrator of this elegant murder will be when he finds that you can swear to my innocence!”

“Oh, but, sir,’’ Caroline cried, suddenly alarmed, “I don’t wish to swear – I mean, if it is a question of saving you from the gallows, but – but, sir, t’was my intention that no one should know that I had been here – it will be terrible for me, I assure you, should it be revealed, especially in a Court of Justice, that I was here at this hour of night.”

The gentleman smiled,

“In which case, Madam, may I beg of you to disappear as quickly as possible for if I am not mistaken very shortly someone will come and discover the corpse and, if they are fortunate the murderer lurking by it. So run away, Madam, as fast as your little feet can carry you, otherwise you will be embroiled in this most unpleasant and very unsavoury crime.”

“But sir, I cannot do that,” Caroline exclaimed. “Of course I cannot leave you when I know you to be innocent, but - ”

“There is no but, Madam, you must go.”

“And you?”

“I shall await justice.”

“But why?” Caroline asked. “Why must you be so stupid? If you are not here, they cannot prove that you murdered the man. It has got to be proved, you know. ”

The gentleman shrugged his shoulders.

“I do not cling to life so earnestly as all that Madam in fact, to put it briefly, life is of no particular interest to me at the moment. I would as soon die this way as any other.”

“Then you are either demented or foxed,” Caroline cried angrily. “There are plenty of decent ways of dying, sir, but to die through treachery, to give in meekly to what you have declared yourself to be nothing but a plot must be surely the action of a coward or a craven. Come away, sir, while there is yet time, and if they have to find the murderer, let them hunt for him.”

Caroline spoke passionately. The man listened to her with a smile on his lips. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Madam, you have convinced me. I will do your bidding. May I at least escort you out of the wood, if it is your desire to leave it?”

He would have offered Caroline his arm, but at that moment she put up her hand warningly.

“Listen!”

They both stood very still. From the far side of the wood in the distance, in the direction in which Caroline had come, there were voices and the sound of people moving through the trees

Caroline gave a little gasp.

“Quickly,” she whispered. “They may be searching for you or -for me.”

The gentleman turned swiftly.

“This way then,” he said. “My horse is not far away”

He led the way across the clearing and entered the wood. Caroline followed him. It was not easy going, for the trees were thicker here and more than once the branches, swung back to smack her across the face, while her skirt and the laces at her neck got caught in the brambles, but impatiently she dragged herself free, following the stranger as he forged ahead of her, conscious all the time of the raised voices and noisy movements behind them.

At last, after what seemed to Caroline an eternity of discomfort, the trees cleared and she saw standing tethered to one of them a horse.

“Here we are,” the gentleman said. “Can you ride pillion?”

“Yes,” Caroline replied briefly.

He lifted her in his arms, swung her up on the horse’s back, and sprang into the saddle. She put her arms round his waist. There was a sudden babble of noise, the sound of voices raised high.

“Do you hear that? They have found the body,” the gentleman said. He spurred his horse, and they started off at a quick canter across the open field which lay beyond the wood.