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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19069-8.txt b/19069-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55fae83 --- /dev/null +++ b/19069-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9432 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Silent House, by Fergus Hume + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Silent House + +Author: Fergus Hume + +Release Date: August 17, 2006 [EBook #19069] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SILENT HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Geetu Melwani, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE +SILENT HOUSE + +BY +FERGUS HUME + + +New York +C. H. DOSCHER + +Copyright, 1907, by +C. H. DOSCHER + + + + +[Illustration: I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be +too happy to place it and myself at your service] + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I--The Tenant of the Silent House 1 + + II--Shadows on the Blind 10 + + III--An Unsatisfactory Explanation 20 + + IV--Mrs. Kebby's Discovery 29 + + V--The Talk of the Town 38 + + VI--Mrs. Vrain's Story 47 + + VII--The Assurance Money 56 + + VIII--Diana Vrain 65 + + IX--A Marriage That Was a Failure 74 + + X--The Parti-Coloured Ribbon 83 + + XI--Further Discoveries 93 + + XII--The Veil and Its Owner 101 + + XIII--Gossip 111 + + XIV--The House in Jersey Street 121 + + XV--Rhoda and the Cloak 131 + + XVI--Mrs. Vrain at Bay 141 + + XVII--A Denial 151 + + XVIII--Who Bought the Cloak? 160 + + XIX--The Defence of Count Ferruci 169 + + XX--A New Development 179 + + XXI--Two Months Pass 187 + + XXII--At Berwin Manor 196 + + XXIII--A Startling Theory 206 + + XXIV--Lucian Is Surprised 215 + + XXV--A Dark Plot 224 + + XXVI--The Other Man's Wife 233 + + XXVII--A Confession 241 + +XXVIII--The Name of the Assassin 252 + + XXIX--Link Sets a Trap 262 + + XXX--Who Fell into the Trap 272 + + XXXI--A Strange Confession 282 + + XXXII--The Confession (_continued_) 291 + +XXXIII--What Rhoda Had to Say 301 + + XXXIV--The End of It All 310 + + + + +THE SILENT HOUSE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE TENANT OF THE SILENT HOUSE + + +Lucian Denzil was a briefless barrister, who so far departed from the +traditions of his brethren of the long robe as not to dwell within the +purlieus of the Temple. For certain private reasons, not unconnected +with economy, he occupied rooms in Geneva Square, Pimlico; and, for the +purposes of his profession, repaired daily, from ten to four, to +Serjeant's Inn, where he shared an office with a friend equally +briefless and poor. + +This state of things sounds hardly enviable, but Lucian, being young and +independent to the extent of £300 a year, was not dissatisfied with his +position. As his age was only twenty-five, there was ample time, he +thought, to succeed in his profession; and, pending that desirable +consummation, he cultivated the muses on a little oatmeal, after the +fashion of his kind. There have been lives less happily circumstanced. + +Geneva Square was a kind of backwater of the great river of town life +which swept past its entrance with speed and clamour without disturbing +the peace within. One long, narrow street led from a roaring +thoroughfare into a silent quadrangle of tall grey houses, occupied by +lodging-house keepers, city clerks and two or three artists, who +represented the Bohemian element of the place. In the centre there was +an oasis of green lawn, surrounded by rusty iron railings the height of +a man, dotted with elms of considerable age, and streaked with narrow +paths of yellow gravel. + +The surrounding houses represented an eminently respectable appearance, +with their immaculately clean steps, white-curtained windows, and neat +boxes of flowers. The windows glittered like diamonds, the door-knobs +and plates shone with a yellow lustre, and there were no sticks, or +straws, or waste paper lying about to mar the tidy look of the square. + +With one exception, Geneva Square was a pattern of all that was +desirable in the way of cleanliness and order. One might hope to find +such a haven in some somnolent cathedral town, but scarcely in the +grimy, smoky, restless metropolis of London. + +The exception to the notable spotlessness of the neighborhood was No. +13, a house in the centre of the side opposite to the entrance. Its +windows were dusty, and without blinds or curtains, there were no +flower-boxes on the ledges, the steps lacked whitewash, and the iron +railings looked rusty for want of paint. Stray straws and scraps of +paper found their way down the area, where the cracked pavement was damp +with green slime. Such beggars as occasionally wandered into the square, +to the scandal of its inhabitants, camped on the doorstep; and the very +door itself presented a battered, dissolute appearance. + +Yet, for all its ill looks and disreputable suggestions, those who dwelt +in Geneva Square would not have seen it furbished up and occupied for +any money. They spoke about it in whispers, with ostentatious +tremblings, and daunted looks, for No. 13 was supposed to be haunted, +and had been empty for over twenty years. By reason of its legend, its +loneliness and grim appearance, it was known as the Silent House, and +formed quite a feature of the place. Murder had been done long ago in +one of its empty, dusty rooms, and it was since then that the victim +walked. Lights, said the ghost-seers, had been seen flitting from window +to window, groans were sometimes heard, and the apparition of a little +old woman in brocaded silk and high-heeled shoes appeared on occasions. +Hence the Silent House bore an uncanny reputation. + +How much truth there was in these stories it is impossible to say; but +sure enough, in spite of a low rental, no tenant would take No. 13 and +face its ghostly terrors. House and apparition and legend had become +quite a tradition, when the whole fantasy was ended in the summer of '95 +by the unexpected occupation of the mansion. Mr. Mark Berwin, a +gentleman of mature age, who came from nobody knew where, rented No. 13, +and established himself therein to lead a strange and lonely life. + +At first, the gossips, strong in ghostly tradition, declared that the +new tenant would not remain a week in the house; but as the week +extended into six months, and Mr. Berwin showed no signs of leaving, +they left off speaking of the ghost and took to discussing the man +himself. In a short space of time quite a collection of stories were +told about the newcomer and his strange ways. + +Lucian heard many of these tales from his landlady. How Mr. Berwin lived +all alone in the Silent House without servant or companion; how he spoke +to none, and admitted no one into the mansion; how he appeared to have +plenty of money, and was frequently seen coming home more or less +intoxicated; and how Mrs. Kebby, the deaf charwoman who cleaned out Mr. +Berwin's rooms, declined to sleep in the house because she considered +that there was something wrong about her employer. + +To such gossip Denzil paid little attention, until his skein of life +became unexpectedly entangled with that of the strange gentleman. The +manner of their meeting was unforeseen and peculiar. + +One foggy November night, Lucian, returning from the theatre, shortly +after eleven o'clock, dismissed his hansom at the entrance to the square +and walked thereinto through the thick mist, trusting to find his way +home by reason of two years' familiarity with the precincts. As it was +impossible to see even the glare of the near gas lamp in the murky air, +Lucian felt his way cautiously along the railings. The square was filled +with fog, dense to the eye and cold to the feel, so that Lucian shivered +with the chill, in spite of the fur coat over his evening clothes. + +As he edged gingerly along, and thought longingly of the fire and supper +awaiting him in his comfortable rooms, he was startled by hearing a +deep, rich voice boom out almost at his feet. To make the phenomenon +still more remarkable, the voice shaped itself into certain well-known +words of Shakespeare: + +"Oh!" boomed this _vox et pręterea nihil_ in rather husky tones, "Oh! +that a man should put an enemy in his mouth to steal away his brains!" +And then through the mist and darkness came the unmistakable sound of +sobs. + +"God bless me!" cried Lucian, leaping back, with shaken nerves. "Who is +this? Who are you?" + +"A lost soul!" wailed the deep voice, "which God will not bless!" And +then came the sobbing again. + +It made Denzil's blood run cold to hear this unseen creature weeping in +the gloom. Moving cautiously in the direction of the sound, he stumbled +against a man with his folded arms resting on the railings, and his face +bent down on his arms. He made no attempt to turn when Lucian touched +him, but with downcast head continued to weep and moan in a very frenzy +of self-pity. + +"Here!" said the young barrister, shaking the stranger by the shoulder, +"what is the matter with you?" + +"Drink!" stuttered the man, suddenly turning with a dramatic gesture. "I +am an object lesson to teetotalers; a warning to topers; a modern helot +made shameful to disgust youth with vice." + +"You had better go home, sir," said Lucian sharply. + +"I can't find home. It is somewhere hereabout, but where, I don't know." + +"You are in Geneva Square," said Denzil, trying to sharpen the dulled +wits of the man. + +"I wish I was in No. 13 of it," sighed the stranger. "Where the deuce is +No. 13? Not in this Cloudcuckooland, anyhow." + +"Oh!" cried Lucian, taking the man's arm. "Come with me. I'll lead you +home, Mr. Berwin." + +Scarcely had the name passed his lips than the stranger drew back +suddenly, with a hasty exclamation. Some suspicion seemed to engender a +mixture of terror and defiance which placed him on his guard against +undue intimacy, even when some undefined fear was knocking at his heart. +"Who are you?" he demanded in a steadier tone. "How do you know my +name?" + +"My name is Denzil, Mr. Berwin, and I live in one of the houses of this +square. As you mention No. 13, I know you can be none other than Mr. +Mark Berwin, the tenant of the Silent House." + +"The dweller in the haunted house," sneered Berwin, evidently relieved, +"who stays there with ghosts, and worse than ghosts." + +"Worse than ghosts?" + +"The phantoms of my own sins, young man. I have sowed folly, and now I +am reaping the crop. I am----" Here his further speech was interrupted +by a fit of coughing, which shook his lean figure severely. At its +conclusion he was so exhausted that he was forced to support himself +against the railings. "A portion of the crop," he murmured. + +Lucian was sorry for the man, who seemed scarcely capable of looking +after himself, and he thought it unwise to leave him in such a plight. +At the same time, he was impatient of lingering in the heart of the +clammy fog at such a late hour; so, as his companion seemed indisposed +to move, he caught him again by the arm without ceremony. The abrupt +action seemed to waken again the fears of Berwin. + +"Where would you take me?" he asked, resisting the gentle force used by +Lucian. + +"To your own house. You will be ill if you stay here." + +"You are not one of them?" asked the man suddenly. + +"One of whom?" + +"One of those who wish to harm me?" + +Denzil began to think he had to do with a madman, and to gain his ends +he spoke to him in a soothing manner, as he would to a child: "I wish to +do you good, Mr. Berwin," said he gently. "Come to your home." + +"Home! home! Ah, God, I have no home!" + +Nevertheless, he gathered himself together, and with his arm in that of +his guide, stumbled along in the thick, chill mist. Lucian knew the +position of No. 13 well, as it almost faced the lodgings occupied by +himself, and by skirting the railings with due caution, he managed to +half lead, half drag his companion to the house. When they stood before +the door, and Berwin had assured himself that he was actually home by +the use of his latch-key, Denzil wished him a curt good-night. "And I +should advise you to go to bed at once," he concluded, turning to +descend the steps. + +"Don't go! Don't go!" cried Berwin, seizing the young man by the arm. "I +am afraid to go in by myself--all is so dark and cold! Wait until I get +a light!" + +As the creature's nerves seemed to be unhinged by over-indulgence in +alcohol, and he stood gasping and shivering on the threshold like some +beaten animal, Lucian took compassion on him. + +"I'll see you indoors," said he, and striking a match, stepped into the +darkness after the man. The hall of No. 13 seemed to be almost as cold +as the world without, and the trifling glimmer of the lucifer served +rather to reveal than dispel the surrounding darkness. The light, as it +were, hollowed a gulf out of the tremendous gloom and made the house +tenfold more ghostly than before. The footsteps of Denzil and Berwin +sounding on the bare boards--for the hall was uncarpeted--waked hollow +echoes, and when they paused the silence which ensued seemed almost +menacing. The grim reputation of the mansion, its gloom and silence, +appealed powerfully to the latent superstition of Lucian. How much more +nearly, then, would it touch the shaken and excited nerves of the tragic +drunkard who dwelt continually amid its terrors! + +Berwin opened a door on the right-hand side of the hall and turned up +the light of a handsome oil-lamp which had been screwed down pending his +arrival. This lamp was placed on a small square table covered with a +white cloth and a dainty cold supper. The young barrister noted that the +napery, cutlery, and crystal were all of the finest; that the viands +were choice; that champagne and claret were the beverages. Evidently +Berwin was a luxurious gentleman and indulgent to his appetites. + +Lucian tried to gain a long look at him in the mellow light, but Berwin +kept his face turned away, and seemed as anxious now for his visitor to +go as he had been for him to enter. Denzil, quick in comprehension, took +the hint at once. + +"I'll go now, as you have the light burning," said he. "Good-night." + +"Good-night," replied Berwin shortly, and added to his discourtesy by +letting Lucian find his way out alone. + +And so ended the barrister's first meeting with the strange tenant of +the Silent House. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SHADOWS ON THE BLIND + + +The landlady of Denzil was a rather uncommon specimen of the class. She +inclined to plumpness, was lively in the extreme, wore very fashionable +garments of the brightest colours, and--although somewhat elderly--still +cherished a hope that some young man would elevate her to the rank of a +matron. + +At present, Miss Julia Greeb was an unwedded damsel of forty summers, +who, with the aid of art, was making desperate but ineffectual efforts +to detain the youth which was slipping from her. She pinched her waist, +dyed her hair, powdered her face, and affected juvenile dress of the +white frock and blue sash kind. In the distance she looked a girlish +twenty; close at hand various artifices aided her to pass for thirty; +and it was only in the solitude of her own room that her real age was +apparent. Never did woman wage a more resolute fight with Time than did +Miss Greeb. + +But this was the worst and most frivolous side of her character, for she +was really a good-hearted, cheery little woman, with a brisk manner, and +a flow of talk unequalled in Geneva Square. She had been born in the +house she occupied, after the death of her father, and had grown up to +assist her mother in ministering to the exactions of a continuous +procession of lodgers. These came and went, married and died; but not +one of the desirable young men had borne Miss Greeb to the altar, so +that when her mother died the fair Julia almost despaired of attaining +to the dignity of wifehood. Nevertheless, she continued to keep +boarders, and to make attempts to captivate the hearts of such bachelors +as she judged weak in character. + +Hitherto all her efforts had been more or less of a mercantile +character, with an eye to money; but when Lucian Denzil appeared on the +scene, the poor little woman really fell in love with his handsome face. +But, in strange contrast to her other efforts, Miss Greeb never for a +moment deemed that Lucian would marry her. He was her god, her ideal of +manhood, and to him she offered worship, and burnt incense after the +manner of her kind. + +Denzil occupied a bedroom and sitting-room, both pleasant, airy +apartments, looking out on to the square. Miss Greeb attended to his +needs herself, and brought up his breakfast with her own fair hands, +happy for the day if her admired lodger conversed with her for a few +moments before reading the morning paper. Then Miss Greeb would retire +to her own sitting-room and indulge in day dreams which she well knew +would never be realised. The romances she wove herself were even more +marvellous than those she read in her favourite penny novelettes; but, +unlike the printed tales, her romance never culminated in marriage. Poor +brainless, silly, pitiful Miss Greeb; she would have made a good wife +and a fond mother, but by some irony of fate she was destined to be +neither; and the comedy of her husband-hunting youth was now changing +into the lonely tragedy of disappointed spinsterhood. She was one of the +world's unknown martyrs, and her fate merits tears rather than laughter. + +On the morning after his meeting with Berwin, the young barrister sat at +breakfast, with Miss Greeb in anxious attendance. Having poured out his +tea, and handed him his paper, and ascertained that his breakfast was to +his liking, Miss Greeb lingered about the room, putting this straight +and that crooked, in the hope that Lucian would converse with her. In +this she was gratified, as Denzil wished to learn details about the +strange man he had assisted on the previous night, and he knew that no +one could afford him more precise information than his brisk landlady, +to whom was known all the gossip of the neighbourhood. His first word +made Miss Greeb flutter back to the table like a dove to its nest. + +"Do you know anything about No. 13?" asked Lucian, stirring his tea. + +"Do I know anything about No. 13?" repeated Miss Greeb in shrill +amazement. "Of course I do, Mr. Denzil. There ain't a thing I don't +know about that house. Ghosts and vampires and crawling spectres live in +it--that they do." + +"Do you call Mr. Berwin a ghost?" + +"No; nor nothing half so respectable. He is a mystery, sir, that's what +Mr. Berwin is, and I don't care if he hears me commit myself so far." + +"In what way is he a mystery?" demanded Denzil, approaching the matter +with more particularity. + +"Why," said Miss Greeb, evidently puzzled how to answer this leading +question, "no one can find out anything about him. He's full of secrets +and underhand goings on. It ain't respectable not to be fair and above +board--that it ain't." + +"I see no reason why a quiet-living old gentleman should tell his +private affairs to the whole square," remarked Lucian drily. + +"Those who have nothing bad to conceal needn't be afraid of speaking +out," retorted Miss Greeb tartly. "And the way in which Mr. Berwin lives +is enough to make one think him a coiner, or a thief, or even a +murderer--that it is!" + +"But what grounds have you to believe him any one of the three?" + +This question also puzzled the landlady, as she had no reasonable +grounds for her wild statements. Nevertheless, she made a determined +attempt to substantiate them by hearsay evidence. "Mr. Berwin," said she +in significant tones, "lives all alone in that haunted house." + +"Why not? Every man has the right to be a misanthrope if he chooses." + +"He has no right to behave so, in a respectable square," replied Miss +Greeb, shaking her head. "There's only two rooms of that large house +furnished, and all the rest is given up to dust and ghosts. Mr. Berwin +won't have a servant to live under his roof, and Mrs. Kebby, who does +his charing, says he drinks awful. Then he has his meals sent in from +the Nelson Hotel round the corner, and eats them all alone. He don't +receive no letters, he don't read no newspapers, and stays in all day, +only coming out at night, like an owl. If he ain't a criminal, Mr. +Denzil, why does he carry on so?" + +"He may dislike his fellow-men, and desire to live a secluded life." + +Miss Greeb still shook her head. "He may dislike his fellow-men," she +said with emphasis, "but that don't keep him from seeing them--ah! that +it don't." + +"Is there anything wrong in that?" said Lucian, contemptuous of these +cobweb objections. + +"Perhaps not, Mr. Denzil; but where do those he sees come from?" + +"How do you mean, Miss Greeb?" + +"They don't go in by the front door, that's certain," continued the +little woman darkly. "There's only one entrance to this square, sir, +and Blinders, the policeman, is frequently on duty there. Two or three +nights he's met Mr. Berwin coming in after dark and exchanged friendly +greetings with him, and each time Mr. Berwin has been alone!" + +"Well! well! What of that?" said Denzil impatiently. + +"This much, Mr. Denzil, that Blinders has gone round the square, after +seeing Mr. Berwin, and has seen shadows--two or three of them--on the +sitting-room blind. Now, sir," cried Miss Greeb, clinching her argument, +"if Mr. Berwin came into the square alone, how did his visitors get in?" + +"Perhaps by the back," conjectured Lucian. + +Again Miss Greeb shook her head. "I know the back of No. 13 as well as I +know my own face," she declared. "There's a yard and a fence, but no +entrance. To get in there you have to go in by the front door or down +the aiery steps; and you can't do neither without coming past Blinders +at the square's entrance, and that," finished Miss Greeb triumphantly, +"these visitors don't do." + +"They may have come into the square during the day, when Blinders was +not on duty." + +"No, sir," said Miss Greeb, ready for this objection. "I thought of that +myself, and as my duty to the square I have inquired--that I have. On +two occasions I've asked the day policeman, and he says no one passed." + +"Then," said Lucian, rather puzzled, "Mr. Berwin cannot live alone in +the house." + +"Begging your pardon, I'm sure," cried the pertinacious woman, "but he +does. Mrs. Kebby has been all over the house, and there isn't another +soul in it. No, Mr. Denzil, take it what way you will, there's +something that ain't right about Mr. Berwin--if that's his real name, +which I don't believe it is." + +"Why, Miss Greeb?" + +"Just because I don't," replied the landlady, with feminine logic. "And +if you think of having anything to do with this mystery, Mr. Denzil, I +beg of you not to, else you may come to something as is too terrible to +consider--that you may." + +"Such as--" + +"Oh, I don't know," cried Miss Greeb, tossing her head and gliding +towards the door. "It ain't for me to say what I think. I am the last +person in the world to meddle with what don't concern me--that I am." +And thus ending the conversation, Miss Greeb vanished, with significant +look and pursed-up lips. + +The reason of this last speech and rapid retreat lay in the fact that +Miss Greeb could bring no tangible charge against her opposite +neighbour; and therefore hinted at his complicity in all kinds of +horrors, which she was quite unable to define save in terms more or less +vague. + +Lucian dismissed such hints of criminality from his mind as the outcome +of Miss Greeb's very lively imagination; yet, even though he reduced her +communications to bare facts, he could not but acknowledge that there +was something queer about Mr. Berwin and his mode of life. The man's +self-pity and self-condemnation; his hints that certain people wished +to do him harm; the curious episode of the shadows on the blind--these +things engaged the curiosity of Denzil in no ordinary degree; and he +could not but admit to himself that it would greatly ease his mind to +arrive at some reasonable explanation of Berwin's eccentricities. + +Nevertheless, he held that he had no right to pry into the secrets of +the stranger, and honourably strove to dismiss the tenant of No. 13 and +his tantalising environments from his mind. But such dismissal of +unworthy curiosity was more difficult to effect than he expected. + +For the next week Lucian resolutely banished the subject from his +thoughts, and declined to discuss the matter further with Miss Greeb. +That little woman, all on fire with curiosity, made various inquiries of +her gossips regarding the doings of Mr. Berwin, and in default of +reporting the same to her lodger, occupied herself in discussing them +with her neighbours. The consequence of this incessant gossip was that +the eyes of the whole square fixed themselves on No. 13 in expectation +of some catastrophe, although no one knew exactly what was going to +happen. + +This undefinable feeling of impending disaster communicating itself to +Lucian, stimulated his curiosity to such a pitch that, with some feeling +of shame for his weakness, he walked round the square on two several +evenings in the hope of meeting Berwin. But on both occasions he was +unsuccessful. + +On the third evening he was more fortunate, for having worked at his +law books until late at night, he went out for a brisk walk before +retiring to rest. The night was cold, and there had been a slight fall +of snow, so Lucian wrapped himself up well, lighted his pipe, and +proceeded to take the air by tramping twice or thrice round the square. +Overhead the sky was clear and frosty, with chill glittering stars and a +wintry moon. A thin covering of snow lay on the pavement, and there was +a white rime on the bare branches of the central trees. + +On coming to the house of Berwin, the barrister saw that the +sitting-room was lighted up and the curtains undrawn, so that the window +presented a square of illuminated blind. Even as he looked, two shadows +darkened the white surface--the shadows of a man and a woman. Evidently +they had come between the lamp and the window, and so, quite +unknowingly, revealed their actions to the watcher. Curious to see the +end of this shadow pantomime, Lucian stood still and looked intently at +the window. + +The two figures seemed to be arguing, for their heads nodded violently +and their arms waved constantly. They retreated out of the sphere of +light, and again came into it, still continuing their furious gestures. +Unexpectedly the male shadow seized the female by the throat and swung +her like a feather to and fro. The struggling figures reeled out of the +radiance and Lucian heard a faint cry. + +Thinking that something was wrong, he rushed up the steps and rang the +bell violently. Almost before the sound died away the light in the room +was extinguished, and he could see nothing more. Again and again he +rang, but without attracting attention; so Lucian finally left the house +and went in search of Blinders, the policeman, to narrate his +experience. At the entrance of Geneva Square he ran against a man whom +he recognised in the clear moonlight. + +To his surprise he beheld Mark Berwin. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION + + +"Mr. Berwin!" cried Lucian, recognising the man. "Is it you?" + +"Who else should it be?" replied Berwin, bending forward to see who had +jostled him. "Who else should it be, Mr. Denzil?" + +"But I thought--I thought," said the barrister, unable to conceal his +surprise, "that is, I fancied you were indoors." + +"Your fancy was wrong, you see. I am not indoors." + +"Then who is in your house?" + +Berwin shrugged his shoulders. "No one, so far as I know." + +"You are mistaken, sir. There was a light in your room, and I saw the +shadows of a man and a woman struggling together thrown on the blind." + +"People in my house!" said Berwin, laying a shaking hand on the arm of +Lucian. "Impossible!" + +"I tell you it is so!" + +"Come, then, and we will look for them," said Berwin in a tremulous +voice. + +"But they have gone by this time!" + +"Gone!" + +"Yes," said Denzil rapidly. "I rang the bell, as I fancied there was +some fatal quarrel going on within. At once the light was put out, and +as I could attract no one to the door, I suppose the man and woman must +have fled." + +For a moment or so Berwin said nothing, but his grip on Lucian's arm +relaxed, and he moved forward a few steps. "You must be mistaken, Mr. +Denzil," said he in altered tones, "there can be no person in my house. +I locked the door before I went out, and I have been absent at least two +hours." + +"Then I must be mad, or dreaming!" retorted Lucian, with heat. + +"We can soon prove if you are either of the two, sir. Come with me and +examine the house for yourself." + +"Pardon me," said Denzil, drawing back, "it is none of my business. But +I warn you, Mr. Berwin, that others are more curious than I am. Several +times people have been known to be in your house while you were absent, +and your mode of life, secretive and strange, does not commend itself to +the householders in this neighbourhood. If you persist in giving rise to +gossip and scandal, some busybody may bring the police on the scene." + +"The police!" echoed the old man, now greatly alarmed, as would appear +from his shaking voice. "No! no! That will never do! My house is my +castle! The police dare not break into it! I am a peaceful and very +unfortunate gentleman, who wishes to live quietly. All this talk of +people being in my house is nonsense!" + +"Yet you seemed afraid when I told you of the shadows," said Lucian +pointedly. + +"Afraid! I am afraid of nothing!" + +"Not even of those who are after you?" hinted Denzil, recalling the +conversation of the previous occasion. + +Berwin gave a kind of eldritch shriek and stepped back a pace, as though +to place himself on his guard. "What--what do you know about such--such +things?" he panted. + +"Only so much as you hinted at when I last saw you." + +"Yes, yes! I was not myself on that night. The wine was in and the wit +was out." + +"The truth also, it would seem," said Lucian drily, "judging by your +agitation then and now." + +"I am an unfortunate gentleman," whimpered Berwin tremulously. + +"If you will excuse me, sir, I shall leave you," said Lucian +ceremoniously. "It seems to be my fate to hold midnight conversations +with you in the cold, but I think this one had better be cut short." + +"One moment," Mr. Berwin exclaimed. "You have been good enough to place +me on my guard as to the talk my quiet course of life is causing. Pray +add to your kindness by coming with me to my house and exploring it from +attic to basement. You will then see that there are no grounds for +scandal, and that the shadows you fancy you saw on the blind are not +those of real people." + +"They can't be those of ghosts, at all events," replied Lucian, "as I +never heard, to my knowledge, that spirits could cast shadows." + +"Well, come and see for yourself that the house is empty." + +Warmly as this invitation was given, Lucian had some scruples about +accepting it. To explore an almost unfurnished mansion with a complete +stranger--and one with an ill reputation--at the midnight hour, is not +an enterprise to be coveted by any man, however bold he may be. Still, +Lucian had ample courage, and more curiosity, for the adventure, as the +chance of it stirred up that desire for romance which belongs peculiarly +to youth. Also he was anxious to satisfy himself concerning the blind +shadows, and curious to learn why Berwin inhabited so dismal and +mysterious a mansion. Add to these reasons a keen pleasure in profiting +by the occurrence of the unexpected, and you will guess that Denzil +ended by accepting the strange invitation of Berwin. + +Being now fully committed to the adventure, he went forward with cool +courage and an observant eye, to spy out, if possible, the secret upon +which hinged these mysteries. + +As on the former occasion, Berwin inducted his guest into the +sitting-room, and here, as previously, a dainty supper was spread. +Berwin turned up the lamp light and waved his hand round the +luxuriously furnished room, pointing particularly to the space between +table and window. + +"The figures whose shadows you saw," said he, "must have struggled +together in this space, so as to be between the lamp and the blind for +the performance of their pantomime. But I would have you observe, Mr. +Denzil, that there is no disturbance of the furniture to show that such +a struggle as you describe took place; also that the curtains are drawn +across the window, and no light could have been thrown on the blind." + +"The curtains were, no doubt, drawn after I rang the bell," said Lucian, +glancing towards the heavy folds of crimson velvet which veiled the +window. + +"The curtains," retorted Berwin, stripping off his coat, "were drawn by +me before I went out." + +Lucian said nothing, but shook his head doubtfully. Evidently Berwin was +trying, for his own ends, to talk him into a belief that his eyes had +deceived him; but Denzil was too clear-headed a young man to be so +gulled. Berwin's explanations and excuses only confirmed the idea that +there was something in the man's life which cut him off from humanity, +and which would not bear the light of day. Hitherto, Lucian had heard +rather than seen Berwin; but now, in the clear light of the lamp, he had +an excellent opportunity of observing both the man and his quarters. + +Berwin was of medium height, and lean, with a clean-shaven face, hollow +cheeks, and black, sunken eyes. His hair was grey and thin, his looks +wild and wandering, and the hectic colouring of his face and narrow +chest showed that he was far gone in consumption. Even as Lucian looked +at him he was shaken by a hollow cough, and when he withdrew his +handkerchief from his lips the white linen was spotted with blood. + +He was in evening dress, and looked eminently refined, although worn and +haggard in appearance. Denzil noted two peculiar marks about him; the +first, a serpentine cicatrice extending on the right cheek from lip +almost to ear; the second, the loss of the little finger of the left +hand, which was cut off at the first joint. As he examined the man a +second and more violent fit of coughing shook him. + +"You seem to be very ill," said Lucian, pitying the feebleness of the +poor creature. + +"Dying of consumption--one lung gone!" gasped Berwin. "It will soon be +over--the sooner the better." + +"With your health, Mr. Berwin, it is sheer madness to dwell in this +rigorous English climate." + +"No doubt," replied the man, pouring himself out a tumbler of claret, +"but I can't leave England--I can't leave this house, even; but on the +whole," he added, with a satisfied glance around, "I am not badly +lodged." + +Lucian agreed with this speech. The room was furnished in the most +luxurious manner. The prevailing hue was a deep, warm red--carpet, +walls, hangings, and furniture were all of this cheerful tint. The +chairs were deep, and softly cushioned; on the walls were several oil +paintings by celebrated modern artists; there were dwarf bookcases +filled with well-chosen books, and on a small bamboo table near the fire +lay magazines and papers. + +The mantelpiece, reaching nearly to the ceiling, was of oak, framing +mirrors of bevelled glass; and on the numerous shelves, cups, saucers, +and vases of old and valuable china were placed. There was also a gilt +clock, a handsome sideboard, and a neat smoking-table, on which stood a +cut-glass spirit-stand and a box of cigars. The whole apartment was +furnished with taste and refinement, and Lucian saw that the man who +owned such luxurious quarters must be possessed of money, as well as the +capability of using it in the most civilised way. + +"You have certainly all that the heart of man can desire in the way of +material comforts," said he, looking at the supper table, which, with +its silver and crystal and spotless covering, glittered like a jewel +under the brilliant lamplight. "My only wonder is that you should +furnish one room so finely and leave the others bare." + +"My bedroom and bathroom are yonder," replied Berwin, pointing towards +large folding doors draped with velvet curtains, and placed opposite to +the window. "They are as well furnished as this. But how do you know the +rest of this house is bare?" + +"I can hardly help knowing it, Mr. Berwin. Your contrast of poverty and +riches is an open secret in this neighbourhood." + +"No one has been in my house save yourself, Mr. Denzil." + +"Oh, I have said nothing. You turned me out so quickly the other night +that I had no time for observation. Besides, I am not in the habit of +remarking on matters which do not concern me." + +"I beg your pardon," said Berwin weakly. "I had no intention of +offending you. I suppose Mrs. Kebby has been talking?" + +"I should think it probable." + +"The skirling Jezebel!" cried Berwin. "I'll pack her off right away!" + +"Are you a Scotchman?" asked Denzil suddenly. + +"Why do you ask?" demanded Berwin, without replying. + +"You used an essentially Scotch word--'skirling.'" + +"And I used an essentially American phrase--'right away,'" retorted the +man. "I may be a Scot, I may be a Yankee, but I would remind you that my +nationality is my own secret." + +"I have no wish to pry into your secrets," said Denzil, rising from the +chair in which he had seated himself, "and in my turn I would remind you +that I am here at your invitation." + +"Don't take offense at a hasty word," said Berwin nervously. "I am glad +of your company, although I seem rather brusque. You must go over the +house with me." + +"I see no necessity to do so." + +"It will set your mind at rest regarding the shadows on the blind." + +"I can trust my eyes," said Lucian, drily, "and I am certain that before +I met you a man and a woman were in this room." + +"Well," said Berwin, lighting a small lamp, "come with me and I'll prove +that you are mistaken." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY + + +The pertinacity which Berwin displayed in insisting that Lucian should +explore the Silent House was truly remarkable. He appeared to be bent +upon banishing the idea which Denzil entertained that strangers were +hiding in the mansion. + +From attic to basement, from front to back premises, he led the way, and +made Lucian examine every corner of the empty rooms. He showed him even +the unused kitchen, and bade him remark that the door leading into the +yard was locked and bolted, and, from the rusty condition of the +ironwork, could not have been opened for years. Also, he made him look +out of the window into the yard itself, with its tall black fence +dividing it from the other properties. + +This exploration finished, and Lucian being convinced that himself and +his host were the only two living beings in the house, Berwin conducted +his half-frozen guest back to the warm sitting-room and poured out a +glass of wine. + +"Here, Mr. Denzil," said he in good-natured tones, "drink this and draw +near the fire; you must be chilled to the bone after our Arctic +expedition." + +Lucian willingly accepted both these attentions, and sipped his +wine--it was particularly fine claret--before the fire, while Berwin +coughed and shivered, and muttered to himself about the cold of the +season. When Lucian stood up to take his departure, he addressed him +directly: + +"Well, sir," said he, with a sardonic smile, "are you convinced that the +struggling shadows on yonder blind were children of your heated fancy?" + +"No," said Denzil stoutly, "I am not!" + +"Yet you have seen that there is no one in the house!" + +"Mr. Berwin," said Lucian, after a moment's thought, "you propose a +riddle which I cannot answer, and which I do not wish to answer. I +cannot explain what I saw to-night, but as surely as you were out of +this house, some people were in it. How this affects you, or what reason +you have for denying it, I do not ask. Keep your own secrets, and go +your own way. I wish you good-night, sir," and Lucian moved towards the +door. + +Berwin, who was holding a full tumbler of rich, strong port, drank the +whole of it in one gulp. The strong liquor reddened his pallid face and +brightened his sunken eyes; it even strengthened his already sonorous +voice. + +"At least you can inform my good neighbours that I am a peaceful man, +desirous of being left to lead my own life," he said urgently. + +"No, sir! I will have nothing to do with your business. You are a +stranger to me, and our acquaintance is too slight to warrant my +discussing your affairs. Besides," added Lucian, with a shrug, "they do +not interest me." + +"Yet they may interest the three kingdoms one day," said Berwin softly. + +"Oh, if they deal with danger to society," said Denzil, thinking his +strange neighbour spoke of anarchistic schemes, "I would----" + +"They deal with danger to myself," interrupted Berwin. "I am a hunted +man, and I hide here from those who wish me ill. I am dying, as you +see," he cried, striking his hollow chest, "but I may not die quickly +enough for those who desire my death." + +"Who are they?" cried Lucian, rather startled by this outburst. + +"People with whom you have no concern," replied the man sullenly. + +"That is true enough, Mr. Berwin, so I'll say good-night!" + +"Berwin! Berwin! Ha! ha! A very good name, Berwin, but not for me. Oh, +was there ever so unhappy a creature as I? False name, false friend, in +disgrace, in hiding! Curse everybody! Go! go! Mr. Denzil, and leave me +to die here like a rat in its hole!" + +"You are ill!" said Lucian, amazed by the man's fury. "Shall I send a +doctor to see you?" + +"Send no one," cried Berwin, commanding himself by a visible effort. +"Only go away and leave me to myself. 'Thou can'st not minister to a +mind diseased.' Go! go!" + +"Good-night, then," said Denzil, seeing that nothing could be done. "I +hope you will be better in the morning." + +Berwin shook his head, and with a silent tongue, which contrasted +strangely with his late outcry, ushered Denzil out of the house. + +As the heavy door closed behind him Lucian descended the steps and +looked thoughtfully at the grim mansion, which was tenanted by so +mysterious a person. He could make nothing of Berwin--as he chose to +call himself--he could see no meaning in his wild words and mad +behaviour; but as he walked briskly back to his lodgings he came to the +conclusion that the man was nothing worse than a tragic drunkard, +haunted by terrors engendered by over-indulgence in stimulants. The +episode of the shadows on the blind he did not attempt to explain, for +the simple reason that he was unable to find any plausible explanation +to account therefor. + +"And why should I trouble my head to do so?" mused Lucian as he went to +bed. "The man and his mysteries are nothing to me. Bah! I have been +infected by the vulgar curiosity of the Square. Henceforth I'll neither +see nor think of this drunken lunatic," and with such resolve he +dismissed all thoughts of his strange acquaintance from his mind, which, +under the circumstances, was perhaps the wisest thing he could do. + +But later on certain events took place which forced him to alter his +determination. Fate, with her own ends to bring about is not to be +denied by her puppets; and of these Lucian was one, designed for an +important part in the drama which was to be played. + +Mrs. Margery Kebby, who attended to the domestic economy of Berwin's +house, was a deaf old crone with a constant thirst, only to be assuaged +by strong drink; and a filching hand which was usually in every pocket +save her own. She had neither kith nor kin, nor friends, nor even +acquaintances; but, being something of a miser, scraped and screwed to +amass money she had no need for, and dwelt in a wretched little +apartment in a back slum, whence she daily issued to work little and +pilfer much. + +Usually at nine o'clock she brought in her employer's breakfast from the +Nelson Hotel, which was outside the Square, and while he was enjoying it +in bed, after his fashion, she cleaned out and made tidy the +sitting-room. Berwin then dressed and went out for a walk, despite Miss +Greeb's contention that he took the air only at night, like an owl, and +during his absence Mrs. Kebby attended to the bedroom. She then went +about her own business, which was connected with the cleaning of various +other apartments, and only returned at midday and at night to lay the +table for Berwin's luncheon and dinner, or rather dinner and supper, +which were also sent in from the hotel. + +For these services Berwin paid her well, and only enjoined her to keep a +quiet tongue about his private affairs, which Mrs. Kebby usually did +until excited by too copious drams of gin, when she talked freely and +unwisely to all the servants in the Square. It was to her observation +and invention that Berwin owed his bad reputation. + +Well-known in every kitchen, Mrs. Kebby hobbled from one to the other, +gossiping about the various affairs of her various employers; and when +absolute knowledge failed she took to inventing details which did no +small credit to her imagination. Also, she could tell fortunes by +reading tea-leaves and shuffling cards, and was not above aiding the +maid servants in their small love affairs. + +In short, Mrs. Kebby was a dangerous old witch, who, a century back, +would have been burnt at the stake; and the worst possible person for +Berwin to have in his house. Had he known of her lying and prating she +would not have remained an hour under his roof; but Mrs. Kebby was +cunning enough to steer clear of such a danger in the most dexterous +manner. She had a firm idea that Berwin had, in her own emphatic phrase, +"done something" for which he was wanted by the police, and was always +on the look out to learn the secret of his isolated life, in order to +betray him, or blackmail him, or get him in some way under her thumb. As +yet she had been unsuccessful. + +Deeming her a weak, quiet old creature, Berwin, in spite of his +suspicious nature, entrusted Mrs. Kebby with the key of the front door, +so that she could enter for her morning's work without disturbing him. +The sitting-room door itself was not always locked, but Berwin usually +bolted the portal of his bedroom, and had invariably to rise and admit +Mrs. Kebby with his breakfast. + +The same routine was observed each morning, and everything went +smoothly. Mrs. Kebby had heard of the blind shadows from several people, +and had poked and pryed about all over the house in the hope of arriving +at some knowledge of the substantial flesh and blood figures which cast +them. But in this quest, which was intended to put money into her own +pocket, she failed entirely; and during the whole six months of Berwin's +tenancy she never saw a living soul in No. 13 save her employer; nor +could she ever find any evidence to show that Berwin had received +visitors during her absence. The man was as great a mystery to Mrs. +Kebby as he was to the square, in spite of her superior opportunities of +learning the truth. + +On Christmas Eve the old woman brought in a cold supper for Berwin, as +usual, making several journeys to and fro between hotel and house for +that purpose. She laid the table, made up the fire, and before taking +her leave asked Mr. Berwin if he wanted anything else. + +"No, I think not," replied the man, who looked wretchedly ill. "You can +bring my breakfast to-morrow." + +"At nine, sir?" + +"At the usual time," answered Berwin impatiently. "Go away!" + +Mrs. Kebby gave a final glance round to see that all was in order, and +shuffled out of the room as fast as her rheumatism would let her. As she +left the house eight o'clock chimed from the steeple of a near church, +and Mrs. Kebby, clinking her newly-received wages in her pocket, hurried +out of the square to do her Christmas marketing. As she went down the +street which led to it, Blinders, a burly, ruddy-faced policeman, who +knew her well, stopped to make an observation. + +"Is that good gentleman of yours home, Mrs. Kebby?" he asked, in the +loud tones used to deaf people. + +"Oh, he's home," grumbled Mrs. Kebby ungraciously, "sittin' afore the +fire like Solomon in all his glory. What d'ye want to know for?" + +"I saw him an hour ago," explained Blinders, "and I thought he looked +ill." + +"So he do, like a corpse. What of that? We've all got to come to it some +day. 'Ow d'ye know but what he won't be dead afore morning? Well, I +don't care. He's paid me up till to-night. I'm going to enj'y myself, I +am." + +"Don't you get drunk, Mrs. Kebby, or I'll lock you up." + +"Garn!" grunted the old beldame. "Wot's Christmas Eve for, if it ain't +for folk to enj'y theirselves? Y'are on duty early." + +"I'm taking the place of a sick comrade, and I'll be on duty all night. +That's my Christmas." + +"Well! well! Let every one enj'y hisself as he likes," muttered Mrs. +Kebby, and shuffled off to the nearest public house. + +Here she began to celebrate the season, and afterwards went shopping; +then she celebrated the season again, and later carried home her +purchases to the miserable garret she occupied. In this den Mrs. Kebby, +with the aid of gin and water, celebrated the season until she drank +herself to sleep. + +Next morning she woke in anything but an amiable mood, and had to +fortify herself with an early drink before she was fit to go about her +business. + +It was almost nine when she reached the Nelson Hotel, and found the +covered tray with Mr. Berwin's breakfast waiting for her; so she hurried +with it to Geneva Square as speedily as possible, fearful of a scolding. +Having admitted herself into the house, Mrs. Kebby took up the tray with +both hands, and pushed open the sitting-room door with her foot. Here, +at the sight which met her eyes, she dropped the tray with a crash, and +let off a shrill yell. + +The room was in disorder, the table was overturned, and amid the +wreckage of glass and china lay Mark Berwin, with outspread hands--stone +dead--stabbed to the heart. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TALK OF THE TOWN + + +Nowadays, events, political, social, and criminal, crowd so closely on +one another's heels that what was formerly a nine days' wonder is +scarcely marvelled at the same number of minutes. Yet in certain cases +episodes of a mysterious or unexpected nature engage the attention of a +careless world for a somewhat longer period, and provoke an immense +amount of discussion and surmise. In this category may be placed the +crime committed in Geneva Square; for when the extraordinary +circumstances of the case became known, much curiosity was manifested +regarding the possible criminal and his motive for committing so +apparently useless a crime. + +To add to the wonderment of the public, it came out in the evidence of +Lucian Denzil at the inquest that Berwin was not the real name of the +victim; so here the authorities were confronted with a three-fold +problem. They had first to discover the name of the dead man; second, to +learn who it was had so foully murdered him; and third, to find out the +reason why the unknown assassin should have slain an apparently harmless +man. + +But these hidden things were not easily brought to light; and the +meagre evidence collected by the police failed to do away with any one +of the three obstacles--at all events, until after the inquest. When the +jury brought in a verdict that the deceased had been violently done to +death by some person or persons unknown, the twelve good men and true +stated the full extent of knowledge gained by Justice in her futile +scramble after clues. Berwin--so called--was dead, his assassin had +melted into thin air, and the Silent House had added a second legend to +its already uncanny reputation. Formerly it had been simply haunted, now +it was also blood-stained, and its last condition was worse than its +first. + +The dead man had been found stabbed to the heart by some long, thin, +sharp-pointed instrument which the murderer had taken away with him--or +perhaps her, as the sex of the assassin, for obvious reasons, could not +be decided. Mrs. Kebby swore that she had left the deceased sitting over +the fire at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, and that he had then been +fairly well, though far from enjoying the best of health. When she +returned, shortly after nine, on Christmas morning, the man was dead and +cold. Medical aid was called in at the same time as the police were +summoned; and the evidence of the doctor who examined the body went to +prove that Berwin had been dead at least ten hours; therefore, he must +have been assassinated between the hours of eleven and twelve of the +previous night. + +Search was immediately made for the murderer, but no trace could be +found of him, nor could it be ascertained how he had entered the house. +The doors were all locked, the windows were all barred, and neither at +the back nor in the front was there any outlet left open whereby the +man--if it was a man who had done the deed--could have escaped. + +Blinders, the policeman on duty at the entrance of the square, gave +evidence that he had been on duty there all night, and that although +many servants and owners of houses belonging to the square had passed in +from their Christmas marketings, yet no stranger had entered. The +policeman knew every one, even to the errand-boys of the neighbourhood, +who brought parcels of Christmas goods, and in many cases had exchanged +greetings with the passers-by; but he was prepared to swear, and, in +fact, did swear at the inquest, that no stranger either came into or +went out of Geneva Square. + +Also he deposed that when the traffic died away after midnight he had +walked round the square, and had looked at every window, including that +of No. 13, and had tried every door, also including that of No. 13, only +to find that all was safe. Blinders declared on oath that he had not on +Christmas Eve the slightest suspicion of the horrid tragedy which had +taken place in the Silent House during the time he was on duty. + +When the police took possession of the body and mansion, search was made +in bedroom and sitting-room for papers likely to throw light on the +identity of the victim, but in vain. No letters or telegrams, or even +writing of any kind, could be discovered; there was no name in the dead +man's books, no mark on his clothes, no initials on his linen. + +The landlord of the house declared that the deceased had hired the +mansion six months before, but had given no references, and as the +landlord was glad to let the haunted No. 13 on any terms, he had not +insisted upon having them. The deceased, said the landlord, had paid a +month's rent in advance in ready money, and at the end of every month he +had discharged his liability in the same way. He gave neither cheque nor +notes, but paid always in gold; and beyond the fact that he called +himself Mark Berwin, the landlord knew nothing about him. + +The firm who had furnished the rooms made almost the same report, quite +as meagre and unsatisfactory. Mr. Berwin--so the deceased had given his +name--had ordered the furniture, and had paid for it in gold. +Altogether, in spite of every effort, the police were obliged to declare +themselves beaten. They could not find out the name of the victim, and +therefore were unable to learn his past life, or trace thereby if he had +an enemy likely to harm him. + +Beyond the report given by Lucian of his conversation with the man, +which showed that Berwin certainly had some enemy whom he dreaded, there +was nothing discovered to show reason for the committal of the crime. + +Berwin--so called--was dead; he was buried under his assumed name, and +there, so far as the obtainable evidence went, was an end to the strange +tenant of the Silent House. Gordon Link, the detective charged with the +conduct of the case, confessed as much to Denzil. + +"I do not see the slightest chance of tracing Berwin's past," said he to +the barrister. "We are as ignorant about him as we are of the name of +the assassin." + +"Are you sure there is no clue, Mr. Link?" + +"Absolutely none; even the weapon with which the crime was committed +cannot be found." + +"You have searched the house?" + +"Every inch of it, and with the result that I have found nothing. The +surroundings of the case are most mysterious. If we do not identify the +dead we cannot hope to trace the murderer. How the wretch got into the +house is more than I can discover." + +"It is strange," admitted Lucian thoughtfully, "yet in some secret way +people were in the habit of entering the house, and Berwin knew as much; +not only that, but he protected them from curiosity by denying that they +even existed." + +"I don't quite follow you, Mr. Denzil." + +"I allude to the shadows on the blind, which I saw myself a week before +the murder took place. They were those of a man and a woman, and must +have been cast by bodies of flesh and blood. Therefore, two people must +have been in Berwin's sitting-room on that night; yet when I met Berwin +who was absent at the time--he denied that anyone could have entered his +house without his knowledge. More, he actually insisted that I should +satisfy myself as to the truth of this by examining the house." + +"Which you did?" + +"Yes, but found nothing; yet," said Lucian, with an air of conviction, +"however the man and woman entered, they were in the house." + +"Then the assassin must have come in by the same way; but where that way +can be, or how it can be found, is more than I can say." + +"Does the landlord know of any secret passages?" + +"No; I asked him," replied the detective, "but he stated that houses +nowadays were not built with secret passages. When Berwin denied that +anyone was in the house, was he afraid, Mr. Denzil?" + +"Yes, he seemed to be nervous." + +"And he told you he had enemies?" + +"He hinted that there were people who wished to see him dead. From the +way he spoke and the language he used I am satisfied that he was hiding +from the vengeance of some one." + +"Vengeance!" repeated Link, raising his eyebrows. "Is not that word a +trifle melodramatic?" + +"Perhaps; but to my mind there is more melodrama in actual life than +people fancy. However, Mr. Link," added Lucian, "I have come to certain +conclusions. Firstly, that Berwin was in hiding; secondly, that he saw +people secretly who entered in some way we cannot discover; and +thirdly, that to solve the problem it will be necessary to look into the +past life of the dead man." + +"Your third conclusion brings us round to the point whence we started," +retorted Link. "How am I to discover the man's past?" + +"By learning who he is, and what is his real name." + +"An easy task," said the detective sarcastically, "considering the +meagre material upon which we have to work. And how is the business to +be accomplished?" + +"By advertisement." + +"Advertisement!" + +"Yes. I wonder the idea did not strike you before, seeing how often it +is used in similar cases. Advertise a full description of the man who +called himself Berwin, note his physical peculiarities and looks, and +circulate such description by means of handbills and newspapers." + +Link looked angry, and laughed rather contemptuously, as his +professional pride was touched by the fact of being advised by an +individual not of his calling. + +"I am not so ignorant of my business as you think," he said sharply. +"What you suggest has already been done. There are handbills describing +the appearance of Berwin in every police office in the kingdom." + +"In the newspapers, also?" asked Lucian, nettled by the detective's +tone. + +"No; it is not necessary." + +"I don't agree with you. Many people in private life are not likely to +see your handbills. I don't pretend to advise, Mr. Link," he added in +soothing tones, "but would it not be wise to use the medium of the daily +papers?" + +"I'll think of it," said Link, too jealous of his dignity to give way at +once. + +"Oh, I quite rely on your discretion," said Denzil hastily. "You know +your own business best. But if you succeed in identifying Berwin, will +you let me know?" + +Link looked keenly at the young man. + +"Why do you wish to know about the matter?" he asked. + +"Out of simple curiosity. The case is so mysterious that I should like +to watch you unravel it." + +"Well," said Link, rather gratified by this tribute to his power, "I +shall indulge your fancy." + +The result of this conversation was that Lucian observed in the +newspapers next day an advertisement describing the looks and name, and +physical peculiarities of the deceased, with special mention of the loss +of the left hand's little finger, and the strange cicatrice on the right +cheek. Satisfied that the only way to learn the truth had been adopted +by the authorities, Lucian impatiently waited for the development of the +scheme. + +Within the week he received a visit from the detective. + +"You were right and I was wrong, Mr. Denzil," admitted Link generously. +"The newspapers were of more use than the handbills. Yesterday I +received a letter from a lady who is coming to see me to-morrow at my +office. So if you care to be present at the interview you have only to +say so." + +"I should like it above all things," said Lucian eagerly. "Who is the +lady?" + +"A Mrs. Vrain, who writes from Bath." + +"Can she identify the dead man?" + +"She thinks she can, but, of course, she cannot be certain until she +sees the body. Going by the description, however," added Link, "she is +inclined to believe that Berwin was her husband." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MRS. VRAIN'S STORY + + +Denzil was much pleased with the courtesy of the detective Link in +permitting him to gain, at first hand, further details of this +mysterious case. With a natural curiosity, engendered by his short +acquaintance with the unfortunate Berwin, he was most anxious to learn +why the man had secluded himself from the world in Geneva Square; who +were the enemies he hinted at as desirous of his death; and in what +manner and for what reason he had met with so barbarous a fate at their +hands. It seemed likely that Mrs. Vrain, who asserted herself to be the +wife of the deceased, would be able to answer these questions in full; +therefore, he was punctual in keeping the appointment at the office of +Link. + +He was rather astonished to find that Mrs. Vrain had arrived, and was +deep in conversation with the detective, while a third person, who had +evidently accompanied her, sat near at hand, silent, but attentive to +what was being discussed. As the dead man had been close on sixty years +of age, and Mrs. Vrain claimed to be his wife, Denzil had quite +expected to meet with an elderly woman. Instead of doing so, however, +he beheld a pretty young lady of not more than twenty-five, whose +raiment of widow's weeds set off her beauty to the greatest advantage. +She was a charming blonde, with golden hair and blue eyes, and a +complexion of rose-leaf hue. In spite of her grief her demeanour was +lively and engaging, and her smile particularly attractive, lighting up +her whole face in the most fascinating manner. Her hands and feet were +small, her stature was that of a fairy, and her figure was perfect in +every way. + +Altogether, Mrs. Vrain looked like a sylph or a dainty shepherdess of +Dresden china, and should have been arrayed in gossamer robes, rather +than in the deep mourning she affected. Indeed, Lucian considered that +such weeds were rather premature, as Mrs. Vrain could not yet be certain +that the murdered man was her husband; but she looked so charming and +childlike a creature that he forgave her being too eager to consider +herself a widow. Perhaps with such an elderly husband her eagerness was +natural. + +From this charming vision Lucian's eyes wandered to the attentive third +person, a rosy-cheeked, plump little man, of between fifty and sixty. +From his resemblance to Mrs. Vrain--for he had the same blue eyes and +pink-and-white complexion--Lucian guessed that he was her father, and +such, indeed, proved to be the case. Link, on Lucian's entrance, +introduced him to the sylph in black, who in her turn presented him to +the silvery-haired, benevolent old man, whom she called Mr. Jabez Clyne. + +At the first sound of their voices Lucian detected so pronounced a +twang, and so curious a way of collocating words, as to conclude that +Mrs. Vrain and her amiable parent hailed from the States. The little +lady seemed to pride herself on this, and indicated her republican +origin in her speech more than was necessary--at least, Denzil thought +so. But then, on occasions, he was disposed to be hyper-critical. + +"Say, now," said Mrs. Vrain, casting an approving glance on Lucian's +face, "I'm right down glad to see you. Mr. Link here was just saying you +knew my husband, Mr. Vrain." + +"I knew him as Mr. Berwin--Mark Berwin," replied Denzil, taking a seat. + +"Just think of that now!" cried Mrs. Vrain, with a liveliness rather +subdued in compliment to her apparel; "and his real name was Mark Vrain. +Well, I guess he won't need no name now, poor man," and the widow +touched her bright eyes carefully with a doll's pocket-handkerchief, +which Lucian noted, somewhat cynically, was perfectly dry. + +"Maybe he's an angel by this time, Lyddy," said Mr. Clyne, in a +cheerful, chirping voice, "so it ain't no use wishing him back, as I can +see. We've all got to negotiate kingdom-come some time or another." + +"Not in the same way, I hope," said Lucian dryly. "But I beg your +pardon, Link, I interrupt your conversation." + +"By no means," replied the detective readily. "We had just begun when +you entered, Mr. Denzil." + +"And it wasn't much of a talk, anyhow," said Mrs. Vrain. "I was only +replying to some stupid questions." + +"Stupid, if you will, but necessary," observed Link, with gravity. "Let +us continue. Are you certain that this dead man is--or rather was--your +husband?" + +"I'm as sure as sure can be, sir. Berwin Manor is the name of our place +near Bath, and it looks as though my husband called himself after it +when he changed his colours. And isn't his first name Mark?" pursued the +pretty widow. "Well, my husband was called Mark, too, so there you +are--Mark Berwin." + +"Is this all your proof?" asked Link calmly. + +"I guess not, though it's enough, I should say. My husband had a mark on +his right cheek--got it fighting a duel with a German student when he +was having a high time as one of the boys at Heidelberg. Then he lost +part of his little finger--left-hand finger--in an accident out West. +What other proof do you want, Mr. Link?" + +"The proofs you have given seem sufficient, Mrs. Vrain, but may I ask +when your husband left his home?" + +"About a year ago, eh, poppa?" + +"You are overdoing it, Lyddy," corrected the father. "Size it up as ten +months, and you'll do." + +"Ten months," said Lucian suddenly, "and Mr. Berwin----" + +"Vrain!" struck in Lydia, the widow, "Mark Vrain." + +"I beg your pardon! Well, Mark Vrain took the house in Geneva Square six +months back. Where was he during the other four?" + +"Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil. I know no more than you do." + +"Did you not know where he went on leaving Berwin Manor?" + +"Sakes! how should I? Mark and I didn't pull together nohow, so he +kicked over the traces and made tracks for the back of beyond." + +"And you might square it, Lyddy, by saying as 'twasn't you who upset the +apple cart." + +"Well, I should smile to think so," said Mrs. Vrain vigorously. "I was +as good as pie to that old man." + +"You did not get on well together?" said Link sharply. + +"Got on as well as a cat hitched along with a dog. My stars! there was +no living with him. If he hadn't left me, I'd have left him--that's an +almighty truth." + +"So the gist of all this is that Mr. Vrain left you ten months ago, and +did not leave his address?" + +"That's so," said the widow calmly. "I've not seen nor heard of him for +most a year, till pop there tumbled across your paragraph in the +papers. Then I surmised from the name and the missing finger and the +scarred cheek, that I'd dropped right on to Mark. I wouldn't take all +this trouble for any one else; no, sir, not me!" + +"My Lyddy does not care about being a grass-widow, gentlemen." + +"I don't mind being a grass-widow or a real one, so long as I know how +to ticket myself," said the candid Lydia; "but seems to me there's no +question that Mark's sent in his checks." + +"I certainly think that this man who called himself Berwin was your +husband," said Denzil, for Mrs. Vrain's eyes rested on him, and she +seemed to expect an answer. + +"Well, then, that means I'm Mr. Vrain's widow?" + +"I should say so." + +"And entitled to all his pile?" + +"That depends on the will," said Lucian dryly, for the light tone of the +pretty woman jarred upon his ear. + +"Oh, that's all right," replied Mrs. Vrain, putting a gold-topped +smelling bottle to her nose. "I saw the will made, and know exactly how +I come out. The old man's daughter by his first wife gets the manor and +the rents, and I take the assurance money!" + +"Was Mr. Berwin--I beg pardon, Vrain--was he married twice?" + +"I should think so!" said Lydia. "He was a widower with a grown-up +daughter when I took him to church. Well, can I get this assurance +money?" + +"I suppose so," said Link, "provided you can prove your husband's +death." + +"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Vrain briskly. "Wasn't he murdered?" + +"The man called Berwin was murdered." + +"Well, sir," said the rosy-cheeked Clyne, with more sharpness than might +have been expected from his peaceful aspect, "and ain't Berwin Vrain?" + +"It would seem so," replied Link coolly. "All your evidence goes to +prove it, yet the assurance company may not be satisfied with the proof. +I expect the grave will have to be opened, and the remains identified." + +"Ugh!" said Mrs. Vrain with a shrug, "how disgusting! I mean," she +added, colouring as she saw that Lucian was rather shocked by her +flippancy, "that sorry as I am for the old man, he wasn't a good husband +to me, and corpses a week old ain't pleasant things to look on." + +"Lyddy," interposed Clyne, hastening to obliterate, if possible, the +impression made on the two men by this foolish speech, "how you do go +on. But you know your heart is better than your tongue." + +"It was, to put up so long with Mr. Vrain," said Lydia resentfully; "but +I'm honest, if I'm nothing else. I guess I'm sorry that Vrain got stuck +like a pig; but it wasn't my fault, and I've done my best to show +respect by wearing black. But it is no good going on in this way, +poppa, for I've no call to excuse myself to strangers. What I want to +know is how I'm going to get the dollars." + +"You'll have to see the assurance company about that," said Link coldly; +"my business with you, Mrs. Vrain, is about this murder." + +"I know nothing about it," retorted the widow. "I haven't set eyes on +Mark for most a year." + +"Have you any idea who killed him?" + +"I guess not! How should I?" + +"You might know if he had enemies." + +"He," said Mrs. Vrain, with supreme contempt, "why, he hadn't backbone +enough for folks to get riz at him! He was half baked!" + +"Crazy, that is," remarked Clyne; "always thought the world was against +him, and folks wanted to get quit of him." + +"He said he had enemies," hinted Lucian. + +"You bet! He no doubt made out that all Europe was against him," said +Clyne. "That was my son-in-law all over. Lyddy and he had a tiff, just +like other married couples, and he clears out to lie low in an +out-of-the-way shanty in Pimlico. I tell you, gentlemen, that Vrain had +a chip out of his head. He fancied things, he did; but no one wanted to +harm him that I know of." + +"Yet he died a violent death," said Denzil gravely. + +"That's a frozen fact, sir," cried Clyne, "and both Lyddy and I want to +lynch the reptile as did it; but we neither of us know who laid him +out." + +"I'm sure I don't," said Mrs. Vrain in a weeping voice. "Every one that +I knew was civil to him; he had no one who wanted to kill him when he +left Berwin Manor. Why he went away, or how he died, I can't say." + +"If you want to know how he died," explained Link, "I can tell you. He +was stabbed." + +"So the journals said; with a bowie!" + +"No, not with a bowie," corrected Lucian, "but with some long, sharp +instrument." + +"A dagger?" suggested Clyne. + +"I should be even more precise," said Denzil slowly. "I should say a +stiletto--an Italian stiletto." + +"A stiletto!" gasped Mrs. Vrain, whose delicate pink colour had faded to +a chalky white. "Oh!--oh! I--I--" and she fainted forthwith. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ASSURANCE MONEY + + +Mrs. Vrain's fainting fit was of no great duration, and she shortly +recovered her senses, but not her sprightliness. Her excuse was that the +long discussion of her husband's murder, and the too precise details +related to her by Link before Denzil's arrival, had so wrought on her +nerves as to occasion her temporary indisposition. + +This reason, which was a trifle weak, since she seemed to bear her +husband's loss with great stoicism, awakened suspicions in Lucian's mind +as to her truthfulness. However, these were too vague and confused to be +put into words, so the young man remained silent until Mrs. Vrain and +her father departed. This they did almost immediately, after the widow +had given her London and country addresses to the detective, in case he +should require her in the conduct of the case. + +This matter being attended to, she left the room, with a parting smile +and especial bow to Lucian. + +Link smiled in his turn as he observed this Parthian shaft, the shooting +of which was certainly out of keeping with Mrs. Vrain's character of a +mourning widow. + +"You seem to have made an impression on the lady, Mr. Denzil," he said, +with a slight cough to conceal his amusement. + +"Nonsense!" replied Lucian, his fair face crimsoning with vexation. "She +seems to me one of those shallow women who would sooner flirt with a +tinker than pass unnoticed by the male sex. I don't like her," he +concluded, with some abruptness. + +"On what grounds?" + +"Well, she spoke very hardly about her husband, and seemed rather more +concerned about this assurance money than his death. She is a flippant +doll, with a good deal of the adventuress about her. I don't think," +said the barrister significantly, "that she is altogether so ignorant of +this matter as she pretends to be." + +The detective raised his eyebrows. "You don't propose to accuse her of +the murder?" he asked sceptically. + +"Oh, no!" answered Denzil hastily. "I don't say she is as guilty as all +that; but she knows something, or suspects something." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"She fainted at the mention of stiletto; and I am convinced that +Vrain--as I suppose we must call him now--was killed with one. And +again, Link, this woman admitted that she had married her elderly +husband in Florence. Now, Florence, as you know, is an Italian town; a +stiletto is an Italian weapon. Putting these two things together, what +do you make of Mrs. Vrain's fainting?" + +"I make nothing of it, Mr. Denzil. You are too suspicious. The woman +had no reason to rid herself of her husband as you hint." + +"What about the assurance money?" + +"There is a motive there, certainly--a motive of gain. Still, I think +you are making a mountain out of a molehill, for I am satisfied that she +knows no more who committed the crime than does the Pope himself." + +"It is as well to look in every direction," said Lucian obstinately. + +"Meaning that I should follow this clue you suggest, which has no +existence save in your own fancy. Well, I'll keep my eye on Mrs. Vrain, +you may be sure of that. It won't be difficult, as she will certainly +stay in town until she identifies the body of her dead husband and gets +the money. If she is guilty, I'll track her down; but I am certain she +has nothing to do with the crime. If she had, it is not likely that she +would enter the lion's den by coming to see me. No, no, Mr. Denzil; you +have found a mare's nest." + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and took up his hat to go. + +"You may be right," said he reluctantly, "but I have my doubts of Mrs. +Vrain, and shall continue to have them until she supplies a more +feasible explanation of her fainting. In the meantime, I'll leave you to +follow out the case in the manner you judge best. We shall see who is +right in the long run," and Denzil, still holding to his opinion, took +his departure, leaving Link confident that the young man did not know +what he was talking about. + +As the detective sat thinking over the late conversation, and wondering +if he could shape any definite course out of it, Denzil put his head in +at the door. + +"I say, Link," he called out, "you'd better find out if Mrs. Vrain is +really the wife of this dead man before you are guided by her story!" +After which speech he hurriedly withdrew, leaving Link to digest it at +his leisure. + +At first, Link was indignant that Denzil should deem him so easily +hoodwinked as the speech implied. Afterwards he began to laugh. + +"Wife!" said he to himself. "Of course she is the man's wife! She knows +too much about him to be otherwise; but even granting that Denzil is +right--which I don't for a moment admit--there is no need for me to +prove the truth of his assumption. If this pretty woman is not the true +wife of Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever this dead man's name actually may +be, the assurance company will get at the rights of the matter before +paying over the money." + +Subsequent events reflected credit on this philosophical speech and +determination of Mr. Link. Had Mrs. Vrain been an imposter, her house of +cards would have been knocked down, as soon as reared, by the searching +inquiry instituted by the Sirius Assurance Company. It appeared that the +life of the late Mark Vrain was on the books of the company for no less +a sum than twenty thousand pounds; and under the will this was to be +paid over to Lydia Vrain, _née_ Clyne. The widow, aided by her +father--who was a shrewd business man, in spite of his innocent +looks--and the family lawyer of the Vrains, went systematically to work +to establish her own identity, the death of her husband, and her +consequent right to the money. + +The first thing to be done was to prove that the dead man was really +Vrain. There was some little difficulty in obtaining an order from the +authorities for the opening of the grave and the exhumation of the body; +but finally the consent of those in power was obtained, and there was +little difficulty in the identification of the remains. The lawyer, Mr. +Clyne, Mrs. Vrain herself, and several people brought up from Bath by +the assurance company, swore that the corpse--buried under the false +name of Berwin--was that of Mark Vrain, for decomposition had not +proceeded so far but what the features could be recognised. There was +even no need to unwrap the body from its cerements, as the face itself, +and the scar thereon, were quite sufficient for the friends of the +deceased to swear to the corpse. Thereupon the assurance company, on the +fullest of evidence, was compelled to admit that their client was dead, +and expressed themselves ready to pay over the money to Mrs. Vrain as +soon as the will should be proved. + +Pending the legal process necessary to do this, the widow made a great +parade of her grief and affection for the dead man. She had the body +re-enclosed in a new and sumptuous coffin, and removed the same to +Berwin Manor, near Bath, where, after a short lapse of time, it was duly +placed in the family vault of the Vrains. + +The widow, having thus disposed of her husband, bethought herself of her +stepdaughter, who at that time was on a visit to some friends in +Australia. A long letter, giving full details, was despatched by Mrs. +Vrain, and the daughter was requested, both by the widow and the lawyer, +to come back to England at once and take up her abode in Berwin Manor, +which, with its surrounding acres, had been left to her under the will. + +Matters connected with the death and its consequences having been +disposed of thus far, Mrs. Vrain sat down, and, folding her hands, +waited till such time as she would receive the assurance money, and +begin a new life as a wealthy and fascinating widow. Every one said that +the little woman had behaved very well, and that Vrain--weak-headed as +he was supposed to be--had shown excellent judgment in dividing his +property, real and personal, so equally between the two claimants. Miss +Vrain, as became the child of the first wife, received the home and +acres of her ancestors; while the second wife obtained the assurance +money, which every one candidly admitted she quite deserved for having +sacrificed her youth and beauty to an old man like Vrain. In those days, +when all these details were being settled, the widow was the most +popular personage in Bath. + +Matters went smoothly with Mrs. Vrain in every respect. The will was +duly proved, the twenty thousand pounds was duly paid over; so, finding +herself rich, the widow came with her father to take up her abode in +London. When settled there one of her first acts was to send a note to +Lucian, telling him that she was in town. The good looks of the young +man had made a considerable impression on Mrs. Vrain, and she appeared +anxious to renew the acquaintance, although it had been so +inauspiciously begun in the purlieus of the police courts. + +On his part, Lucian lost no time in paying his respects, for after the +searching inquiry conducted by the Sirius Assurance Company, out of +which ordeal Mrs. Vrain had emerged unscathed, he began to think that he +had been too hasty in condemning the little widow. So he called upon her +almost immediately after receiving the invitation, and found her, after +the lapse of three months, as pretty as ever, and clothed in less heavy +mourning. + +"It's real sweet of you to call, Mr. Denzil," said she vivaciously. "I +haven't seen anything of you since we met in Mr. Link's office. And +sakes! have I not had a heap of trouble since then?" + +"Your trouble has done you no harm, Mrs. Vrain. So far as your looks go, +three minutes, rather than three months, might have passed." + +"Oh, that's all right. I guess it's not good enough to cry one's self +sick for what can't be helped. But I want to ask you, Mr. Denzil, how +that policeman is progressing with the case." + +"He has found out nothing," replied Lucian, shaking his head, "and, so +far as I can see, there's not much chance of learning the truth." + +"I never thought there was," said Mrs. Vrain, with a shrug. "Seems to me +you don't get round much in this old country. Well, it don't seem as I +can do much more. I've told all I know, and I've offered a reward of +£500 to discover the man who stuck Mark. If he ain't found for dollars +he won't be found at all." + +"Probably not, Mrs. Vrain. It is now over three months since the crime +was committed, and every day makes the chance of discovery less." + +"But for all that, Diana Vrain's going on the trail, Mr. Denzil." + +"Diana Vrain! Who is she?" + +"My stepdaughter--Mark's only child. She was in Australia--out in the +wild west of that country--and only lately got the news of her father's +death. I got a letter from her last week, and it seems as she's coming +back here to find out who laid her poppa out." + +"I am afraid she'll not succeed," said Denzil dubiously. + +"She'll do her best to," replied Mrs. Vrain, with a shrug. "She's as +obstinate as a battery mule; but it's no use talking, she will have her +own way," and dismissing the subject of Miss Vrain, the pretty widow, +with an air of relief, talked on more frivolous subjects until Lucian +took his departure. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DIANA VRAIN + + +Although over three months had elapsed since the murder of Mark Vrain, +and the crime had been relegated to oblivion both by press and people, +curiosity concerning it was still active in Geneva Square. The gossips +in that talkative quarter had exhausted their tongues and imaginations +in surmising who had committed the deed, and how it had been +accomplished. + +It was now known that the deceased had been of a good county family, who +had left his pretty young wife in a fit of groundless suspicion; that he +had no enemies; and had withdrawn to the Silent House to save himself +from the machinations of purely imaginary beings. The general opinion +was that Vrain had been insane; but even this did not explain the reason +of his tragic and unforeseen death. + +Since the murder the Silent House had acquired a tenfold interest in the +eyes of all. The crime, added to its reputation for being haunted, +invested it with horror; and its commonplace looks assumed to fanciful +onlookers a grim and menacing aspect, in keeping with its blood-stained +floor and ghostly rooms. + +Disheartened by the late catastrophe, which had so greatly enhanced the +already evil reputation of the house, the landlord did not attempt to +relet it, as he knew very well that no tenant would be bold enough to +take it, even at a nominal rent. Mrs. Vrain had sold off the furniture +of the two apartments which her unfortunate husband had inhabited, and +now these were as bare and lonely as the rest of the rooms. + +The landlord made no effort to furbish up or renovate the mansion, +deeming that such expense would be useless; so No. 13, deserted by man, +and cursed by God, remained vacant and avoided. People came from far and +near to look at it, but no one entered its doors lest some evil fate +should befall them. Yet, in strange contradiction to the horror it +created in every breast, the houses on either side continued to be +occupied. + +Miss Greeb frequently took a peep across the way at the empty house, +with its curtainless, dusty windows and smokeless chimneys. She had +theorised often on the murder of Vrain, and being unable to come to any +reasonable conclusion, finally decided that a ghost--the ghost which +haunted the mansion--had committed the crime. In support of this +fantastic opinion she related to Lucian at least a score of stories in +which people foolishly sleeping in haunted rooms had been found dead in +the morning. + +"With black finger-marks on their throats," said Miss Greeb +dramatically, "and looks of horror in their eyes, and everything locked +up, just like it was in No. 13, to show that nothing but a ghost could +have killed them." + +"You forget, Miss Greeb," said Lucian flippantly, "poor Vrain was +stabbed with a stiletto. Ghosts don't use material weapons." + +"How do you know the dagger was a real one?" replied Miss Greeb, sinking +her voice to a horrified whisper. "Was it ever seen? No! Was it ever +found? No! The ghost took it away. Depend upon it, Mr. Denzil, it wasn't +flesh and blood as made a spirit of that crazy Berwin." + +"In that case, the ghostly criminal can't be hanged," said Denzil, with +a laugh. "But it's all nonsense, Miss Greeb. I am astonished that a +woman of your sense should believe in such rubbish." + +"Wiser people than I have faith in ghosts," retorted the landlady +obstinately. "Haven't you heard of the haunted house in a West End +square, where a man and a dog were found dead in the morning, with a +valet as gibbered awful ever afterwards?" + +"Pooh! Pooh! That's a story of Bulwer Lytton's." + +"It is not, Mr. Denzil--it's a fact. You can see the very house in the +square for yourself, and No. 13 is just such another." + +"Nonsense! Why, I'd sleep in No. 13 to-morrow night, just to prove that +your ghostly fears are all moonshine." + +Miss Greeb uttered a screech of alarm. "Mr. Denzil!" she cried, with +great energy, "sooner than you should do that, I'd--I'd--well, I don't +know what I'd do!" + +"Accuse me of stealing your silver spoons and have me locked up," said +Lucian, laughing. "Make yourself easy, Miss Greeb. I have no intention +of tempting Providence. All the same, I don't believe for one minute +that No. 13 is haunted." + +"Lights were seen flitting from room to room." + +"No doubt. Poor Vrain showed me over the house before he died. His +candle explains the lights." + +"They have been seen since his death," said Miss Greeb solemnly. + +"Then, as a ghost, Vrain must be walking about with the old woman +phantom who wears brocade and high-heeled shoes." + +Miss Greeb, seeing that she had a sceptic to deal with, retreated with +great dignity from the argument, but nevertheless to other people +maintained her opinion, with many facts drawn from her imagination and +from books on the supernatural compiled from the imagination--or, as the +various writers called it--the experience of others. Some agreed with +her, others laughed at her; but one and all acknowledged that, however +it came about, whether by ghostly or mortal means, the murder of Vrain +was a riddle never likely to be solved; and, with other events of a +like nature and mystery, it was relegated to the list of undiscovered +crimes. + +After several interviews with Link, the barrister was also inclined to +take this view of the matter. He found the detective quite discouraged +in his efforts to find the assassin. + +"I have been to Bath," said Link dismally. "I have examined, so far as I +was able, into the past life of Vrain, but I can find nothing likely to +throw light on the subject. He did not get on well with his wife, and +left Bath ten months before the murder. I tried to trace where he went +to, but could not. He vanished from Bath quite unexpectedly, and four +months later turned up in Geneva Square, as we know, but who killed him, +or why he was killed, I can't say. I'm afraid I'll have to give it up as +a bad job, Mr. Denzil." + +"What! and lose a reward of five hundred pounds!" said Lucian. + +"If it was five thousand, I must lose it," returned the dejected Link. +"This case beats me. I don't believe the murderer will ever be run +down." + +"Upon my word, I am inclined to agree with you," said Denzil, and +barrister and detective departed, each convinced that the Vrain case was +ended, and that in the face of the insuperable obstacles presented by it +there was not the slightest chance of avenging the murder of the +unfortunate man. The reading of the mystery was beyond mortal powers to +accomplish. + + * * * * * + +About the middle of April, nearly four months after the tragedy, Lucian +received a letter containing an invitation which caused him no little +astonishment. The note was signed Diana Vrain, and, having intimated +that the writer had returned only that week from Australia, requested +that Mr. Denzil would be kind enough to call the next day at the Royal +John Hotel in Kensington. Miss Vrain ended by stating that she had a +particular desire to converse with Mr. Denzil, and hoped that he would +not fail to keep the appointment. + +Wondering greatly how the lady--who was no doubt the stepdaughter +referred to by Mrs. Vrain--had obtained his address, and why she desired +to see him so particularly, Lucian, out of sheer curiosity, obeyed the +summons. Next day, at four o'clock--the appointed hour--he presented +himself as requested, and, on giving his name, was shown immediately +into the presence of his correspondent, who occupied a small private +sitting-room. + +When Miss Vrain rose to greet him, Lucian was amazed to see how +beautiful and stately she was. With dark hair and eyes, oval face, and +firm mouth, majestic figure and imperial gait, she moved towards him an +apparent queen. A greater contrast to Mrs. Vrain than her stepdaughter +can scarcely be imagined: the one was a frivolous, volatile fairy, the +other a dignified and reserved woman. She also was arrayed in black +garments, but these were made in the plainest manner, and showed none of +the coquetry of woe such as had characterised Mrs. Vrain's elaborate +costume. The look of sorrow on the face of Diana was in keeping with her +mourning apparel, and she welcomed Lucian with a subdued courtesy which +prepossessed him greatly in her favour. + +Quick in his likes and dislikes, the young man was as drawn towards this +beautiful, sad woman as formerly he had been repulsed by the feigned +grief and ensnaring glances of silly Mrs. Vrain. + +"I am much obliged to you for calling, Mr. Denzil," said Miss Vrain in a +deep voice, rather melancholy in its tone. "No doubt you wondered how I +obtained your address." + +"It did strike me as peculiar, I confess," said Lucian, taking a chair +to which she pointed, "but on considering the matter I fancied that Mrs. +Vrain had----" + +"Mrs. Vrain!" echoed Diana in a tone of contempt. "No! I have not seen +Mrs. Vrain since I returned, a week ago, to London. I got your address +from the detective who examined into the death of my most unhappy +father." + +"You have seen Link?" + +"Yes, and I know all that Link could tell me. He mentioned your name +frequently in his narrative, and gave me to understand that on two +occasions you had spoken with my father; therefore, I asked him to give +me your address, so that I might speak with you personally on the +matter." + +"I am quite at your service, Miss Vrain. I suppose you wish to learn +all that I know of the tragedy?" + +"I wish for more than that, Mr. Denzil," said Diana quietly. "I wish you +to help me in hunting down the assassin of my father." + +"What! Do you intend to reopen the case?" + +"Certainly; but I did not know that the case--as you call it--had been +closed. I have come home from Australia especially to devote myself to +this matter. I should have been in London long ago, but that out in +Australia I was with some friends in a part of the country where it is +difficult to get letters. As soon as Mrs. Vrain's letter about the +terrible end of my father came to hand I arranged my affairs and left at +once for England. Since my arrival I have seen Mr. Saker, our family +lawyer, and Mr. Link, the detective. They have told me all they know, +and now I wish to hear what you have to say." + +"I am afraid I cannot help you, Miss Vrain," said Lucian dubiously. + +"Ah! You refuse to help me?" + +"Oh, no! no! I shall only be too glad to do what I can," protested +Lucian, shocked that she should think him so hard-hearted, "but I know +of nothing likely to solve the mystery. Both myself and Link have done +our best to discover the truth, but without success." + +"Well, Mr. Denzil," said Diana, after a pause, "they often say that a +woman's wit can do more than a man's logic, so you and I must put our +heads together and discover the guilty person. Have you no suspicion?" + +"No. I have no suspicion," replied Lucian frankly. "Have you?" + +"I have. I suspect--a lady." + +"Mrs. Vrain?" + +"Yes. How do you know I meant her?" + +"Because at one time I suspected her myself." + +"You suspected rightly," replied Diana. "I believe that Mrs. Vrain +killed her husband." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A FAILURE + + +Denzil did not reply at once to the accusation levelled by Diana at Mrs. +Vrain, as he was too astonished at her vehemence to find his voice +readily. When he did speak, it was to argue on the side of the pretty +widow. + +"I think you must be mistaken," he said at length. + +"But, Mr. Denzil, you declared that you suspected her yourself!" + +"At one time, but not now," replied Lucian decisively, "because at the +time of the murder Mrs. Vrain was keeping Christmas in Berwin Manor." + +"Like Nero fiddling when Rome was burning," retorted Diana sharply; "but +you mistake my meaning. I do not say that Mrs. Vrain committed the crime +personally, but she inspired and guided the assassin." + +"And who is the assassin, in your opinion?" + +"Count Hercule Ferruci." + +"An Italian?" + +"As you may guess from the name." + +"Now, that is strange," cried Lucian, with some excitement, "for, from +the nature of the wound, I believe that your father was stabbed by an +Italian stiletto." + +"Aha!" said Diana, with satisfaction. "That strengthens the accusation I +bring against Ferruci." + +"And, again," continued Denzil, hardly listening to what she was saying, +"when I mentioned my suspicion about the stiletto in the hearing of Mrs. +Vrain, she fainted." + +"Which showed that her guilty conscience pricked her. Oh, I am sure of +it, Mr. Denzil! My stepmother and the count are the criminals!" + +"Our evidence, as yet, is only circumstantial," said Lucian cautiously. +"We must not jump to conclusions. At present I am completely in the dark +regarding this foreigner." + +"I can enlighten you, but it is a long story." + +"The longer the better," said Denzil, thinking he could hear Diana speak +and watch her face for hours without weariness. "I wish for all details, +then I shall be in a better position to judge." + +"What you say is only reasonable, Mr. Denzil. I shall tell you my +father's history from the time he went to Italy some three years ago. It +was in Italy--to be precise, in Florence--that he met with Lydia Clyne +and her father." + +"One moment," said Denzil. "Before you begin, will you tell me what you +think of the couple?" + +"Think!" cried Diana disdainfully. "I think they are a couple of +adventurers; but she is the worst of the two. The old man, Jabez Clyne, +I think moderately well of; he is a weak fool under the thumb of his +daughter. If you only knew what I have suffered at the hands of that +golden-haired doll!" + +"I should think you could hold your own, Miss Vrain." + +"Not against treachery and lies!" retorted Diana fiercely. "It is not my +habit to employ such weapons, but my stepmother used no others. It was +she who drove me out of the house and made me exile myself to the +Antipodes to escape her falseness. And it was she," added Miss Vrain +solemnly, "who treated my father so ill as to drive him out of his own +home. Lydia Vrain is not the doll you think her to be; she is a false, +cruel, clever adventuress, and I hate her--I hate her with all my heart +and soul!" + +This feminine outburst of anger rather bewildered Denzil, who saw very +plainly that Diana was by no means the lofty angel he had taken her to +be in the first appreciation of her beauty. But her passion of the +moment suited so well with her stately looks that she seemed rather a +Margaret of Anjou defying York and his faction than an injured woman +concerned with so slight a thing as the rebuke of one of her own sex for +whom she had little love. Diana saw the surprise expressed on Lucian's +face, and her own flushed a little with annoyance that she should have +betrayed her feelings so openly. With a vexed laugh, she recovered her +temper and composed demeanour. + +"You see I am no saint, Mr. Denzil," she said, resuming her seat, for +in her anger she had risen to her feet. "But even if I were one, I could +not have restrained myself from speaking as I did. When you know my +stepmother as well as I do--but I must talk calmly about her, or you +will not understand my reasons for thinking her concerned in the +terrible fate of my poor father." + +"I am all attention, Miss Vrain." + +"I'll tell you all I know, as concisely as possible," she replied, "and +you can judge for yourself if I am right or wrong. Three years ago my +father's health was very bad. Since the death of my mother--now some ten +years--he had devoted himself to hard study, and had lived more or less +the life of a recluse in Berwin Manor. He was writing a history of the +Elizabethan dramatists, and became so engrossed with the work that he +neglected his health, and consequently there was danger that he might +suffer from brain fever. The doctors ordered him to leave his books and +to travel, in order that his attention might be distracted by new scenes +and new people. I was to go with him, to see that he did not resume his +studies, so, in an evil hour for us both, we went to Italy." + +"Your father was not mad?" said Lucian, thinking of the extraordinary +behaviour of Vrain in the square. + +"Oh, no!" cried Diana indignantly. "He was a trifle weak in the head +from overwork but quite capable of looking after himself." + +"Did he indulge in strong drink?" + +Miss Vrain looked scandalised. "My father was singularly abstemious in +eating and drinking," she said stiffly. "Why do you ask such a +question?" + +"I beg your pardon," replied Lucian, with all humility, "but it was +reported in Geneva Square that Berwin--the name by which your father was +known--drank too much; and when I met him he was certainly not--not +quite himself," finished the barrister delicately. + +"No doubt his troubles drove him to take more than was good for him," +said Diana in a low voice. "Yet I wonder at it, for his health was none +of the best. Sometimes, I admit, he took sleeping draughts +and--and--drugs." + +"He was consumptive," said Lucian, noticing Diana's hesitation to speak +plainly. + +"His chest was weak, and consumption may have developed itself, but when +I left England, almost two years back, he was certainly not suffering +from that disease. But I see how it is," said Diana, wringing her hands. +"During my short absence, and under the tyranny of his wife, his +physical health and moral principles gave way. Drink and consumption! +Ah! God! were not these ills enough but what the woman must add murder +to cap them both?" + +"We do not know yet if she is guilty," said Lucian quietly. "Will you go +on with your story, Miss Vrain? Later on we can discuss these matters, +when I am in possession of the facts. You say it was an evil hour when +you went to Italy." + +"It was indeed," said Diana sorrowfully, "for in Florence, at the +Pension Donizetti, on the Lung Arno, we met with Lydia Clyne and her +father. They had only lately arrived in Italy--from New York, I +suppose--but already she was said to be engaged to a needy Italian +nobleman named Hercule Ferruci." + +"Then I suppose the Clynes were rich," said Lucian, "for I know those +Italian nobles too well to suspect that this Count Ferruci would pay +attention to any one but an heiress." + +"She was supposed to be rich, Mr. Denzil. All Americans, for some +reason, are supposed to be millionaires; but after she married my father +I learned that Mr. Clyne had a very moderate fortune indeed, and his +daughter nothing. It was for that reason that Lydia threw over the +count, to whom she was almost engaged, and began to pay attention to my +father. She heard talk of his estates in the gossip of the Pension, and +believing him to be rich, she decided to marry him instead of throwing +herself away in a romantic fit on Ferruci." + +"Did she love this Italian?" + +"Yes, I am sure she did; and, what is more, she loves him still!" + +"What! Is Count Ferruci still acquainted with Mrs. Vrain?" + +"He is, as you shall hear. Miss Clyne, as I said, determined to make a +rich marriage by becoming the second Mrs. Vrain. I never liked her, +knowing that she was false and frivolous; but though I did my best to +stop the marriage, my father would not be controlled. You know that this +woman is pretty and fascinating." + +"She is certainly the first, but not the last," interposed Lucian. + +"At all events," resumed Diana disconsolately, "she was sufficiently +fascinating to snare my poor foolish old father. We remained four months +in Florence, and before we left it Lydia Clyne became Mrs. Vrain. I +could do nothing with my father, as he was possessed of the headstrong +passion of an old man, and, moreover, Lydia had learned to know his weak +points so well that she could twist him round her finger. But, angered +as I was at my father's folly, I loved him too well to leave him at the +time, therefore I returned to Berwin Manor with the pair. + +"There, Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Vrain, her face growing dark, "Lydia +made my life so wretched, and insulted me so openly, that I was forced, +out of self-respect, to leave the house. I had some relatives in +Australia, to whom I went out on a visit. Alas! I wish I had not done +so; yet remain with my colonial cousins I did, until recalled to England +by the terrible intelligence of my father's untimely end." + +"So the marriage was a failure?" + +"Yes; even before I left, Lydia openly neglected my father. I am bound +to say that Mr. Clyne, who is much the better of the two, tried to make +her conduct herself in a more becoming manner. But she defied him and +every one else. After my departure I received letters from a friend of +mine, who told me that Lydia had invited Count Ferruci over on a visit. +My father, finding that he could do nothing, and seeing what a mistake +he had made, returned to his books, and soon became ill again. Instead +of looking after him, Lydia--as I heard--encouraged him to study hard, +hoping, no doubt, that he would die, and that she would be free to marry +Count Ferruci. Then my father left the house." + +"Why? That is a very necessary detail." + +Diana thought for a moment, then shook her head despondingly. "That I +cannot explain," she said, with a sigh, "as I was in Australia at the +time. But I expect that his brain grew weaker with study, and perhaps +with the strong drink and drugs which this woman drove him to take. No +doubt the poor man grew jealous of Ferruci; and, unable to assert +himself, seeing how ill he was, left the house and retired to Geneva +Square to meet his death, as we know." + +"But all this is supposition," remonstrated Lucian. "We really do not +know why Mr. Vrain left the house." + +"What does Lydia say?" + +"She gives no feasible explanation." + +"Nor will she. Oh!" cried Diana, "is there no way of getting at the +truth of this matter? I feel certain that Lydia and the Count are +guilty!" + +"You have no proofs," said Denzil, shaking his head. + +"No proofs! Why, you said yourself that a stiletto----" + +"That is a supposition on my part," interrupted Lucian quickly. "I +cannot say for certain that the deed was committed with such a weapon. +Besides, if it was, how can you connect the Italian with the deed?" + +"Can we not find a proof?" + +"I fear not." + +"But if we search the house?" + +"There is little use in doing that," rejoined Lucian. "However, if it +will give you any satisfaction, Miss Vrain, I will take you over the +house to-morrow morning." + +"Do!" cried Diana, "and we may find proof of Lydia's guilt in a way she +little dreams of. Good-bye, Mr. Denzil--till to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON + + +The beauty and high spirit of Diana made so deep an impression on Lucian +that he determined to aid her by every means in his power in searching +for the assassin of her father. As yet Denzil had reached the age of +twenty-five without having been attracted in any marked degree towards +woman-kind; or, to put it more precisely, he had not yet been in love. +But now it seemed that the hour which comes to all of Adam's sons had +come to him; for on leaving Diana he thought of nothing else but her +lovely face and charming smile, and, until he met her again, her image +was never absent from his mind. + +He took but a languid interest in his daily business or social pursuits, +and, wrapped up in inwardly contemplating the beauties of Diana, he +appeared to move amongst his fellow-men like one in a dream. And dreamer +he was, for there was no substantial basis for his passion. + +Many people--particularly those without imagination--scoff at the idea +that love can be born in a moment, but such is often the case, for all +their ill-advised jibes. A man may be brought into contact with the +loveliest and most brilliant of women, yet remain heart-whole; yet +unexpectedly a face--not always the most beautiful--will fire him with +sudden fervour, even against his better judgment. Love is not an affair +of reason, to be clipped and measured by logic and calculation; but a +devouring, destroying passion, impatient of restraint, and utterly +regardless of common sense. It is born of a look, of a smile, of a sigh, +of a word; it springs up and fructifies more speedily than did Jonah's +gourd, and none can say how it begins or how it will end. It is the ever +old, ever new riddle of creation, and the more narrowly its mystery is +looked into the more impossible does it become of solution. The lover of +to-day, with centuries of examples at his back, is no wiser in knowledge +than was his father Adam. + +Although Lucian was thus stricken mad after the irrational methods of +Cupid, he had sufficient sense not to examine too minutely into the +reasons for this sudden passion. He was in love, and admitting as much +to himself, there was an end of all argument. The long lane of his +youthful and loveless life had turned in another direction at the +signpost of a woman's face, and down the new vista the lover saw +flowering meadows, silver streams, bowers of roses, and all the +landscape of Arcadia. He was a piping swain and Diana a complaisant +shepherdess; but they had not yet entered into the promised Arcadia, and +might never do so unless Diana was as kindly as he wished her to be. + +Lucian was in love with Diana, but as yet he could not flatter himself +that she was in love with him, so he resolved to win her affection--if +it was free to be bestowed--by doing her will, and her will was to +revenge the death of her father. This was hardly a pleasant task to +Lucian in his then peace-with-all-the-world frame of mind; but seeing no +other way to gain a closer intimacy with the lady of his love, he took +the bitter with the sweet, and set his shoulder to the wheel. + +The next morning, therefore, Lucian called on the landlord of No. 13 and +requested the keys of the house. But it appeared that these were not in +the landlord's keeping at the moment. + +"I gave them to Mrs. Kebby, the charwoman," said Mr. Peacock, a retired +grocer, who owned the greater part of the square. "The house is in such +a state that I thought I'd have it cleaned up a bit." + +"With a view to a possible tenant, I suppose?" + +"I don't know," replied Peacock, with a rueful shake of his bald head, +"although I'm hoping against hope. But what with the murder and the +ghost, there don't seem much chance of letting it. What might you be +wanting in No. 13, Mr. Denzil?" + +"I wish to examine every room, to find, if possible, a clue to this +crime," explained Lucian, suppressing the fact that he was to have a +companion. + +"You'll find nothing, sir. I've looked into every room myself. However, +you'll find Mrs. Kebby cleaning up, and she'll let you in if you ring +the bell. You aren't thinking of taking the house yourself, I suppose?" +added Peacock wishfully. + +"No, thank you. My nerves are in good order just now; I don't want to +upset them by inhabiting a house with so evil a reputation." + +"Ah! that's what every one says," sighed the grocer. "I wish that +Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever he called himself, had chosen some other +place to be killed in." + +"I'm afraid people who meet with unexpected deaths can't arrange these +little matters beforehand," said Lucian drily, and walked away, leaving +the unfortunate landlord still lamenting over his unlucky possession of +a haunted and blood-stained mansion. + +Before going to No. 13, Lucian walked down the street leading into +Geneva Square, in order to meet Diana, who was due at eleven o'clock. +Punctual as the barrister was, he found that Miss Vrain, in her +impatience, was before him; for he arrived to see her dismiss her cab at +the end of the street, and met her half way down. + +His heart gave a bound as he saw her graceful figure, and he felt the +hot blood rise to his cheeks as he advanced to meet her. + +Diana, quite unconscious of having, like her namesake, the moon, caused +this springtide of the heart, could not forbear a glance of surprise, +but greeted her coadjutor without embarrassment and with all +friendliness. Her thoughts were too taken up with her immediate task of +exploring the scene of the crime to waste time in conjecturing the +reason of the young man's blushes. Yet the instinct of her sex might +have told her the truth, and probably it would have but that it was +blunted, or rather not exercised, by reason of her preoccupation. + +"Have you the key, Mr. Denzil?" said she eagerly. + +"No; but I have seen the landlord, and he has given us permission to go +over the house. A charwoman who is cleaning up the place will let us +in." + +"A charwoman," repeated Miss Vrain, stopping short, "and cleaning up the +house! Is it, then, about to receive a new tenant?" + +"Oh, no; but the landlord wishes it to be aired and swept; to keep it in +some degree of order, I presume." + +"What is the name of this woman?" + +"Mrs. Kebby." + +"The same mentioned in the newspaper reports as having waited on my +unhappy father?" + +"The same," replied Lucian, with some hesitation; "but I would advise +you, Miss Vrain, not to question her too closely about your father." + +"Why not? Ah! I see; you think her answers about his drinking habits +will give me pain. No matter; I am prepared for all that. I don't blame +him so much as those who drove him to intemperance. Is this the house?" +she said, looking earnestly at the neglected building before which they +were standing. + +"Yes," replied Lucian, ringing the bell, "it was in this house that your +father came to his untimely end. And here is Mrs. Kebby." + +That amiable crone had opened the door while the young man was speaking, +and now stood eyeing her visitors with a blear-eyed look of dark +suspicion. + +"What is't ye want?" she demanded, with a raven-like croak. + +"Mr. Peacock has given this lady and myself permission to go over the +house," responded Lucian, trying to pass. + +"And how do I know if he did?" grumbled Mrs. Kebby, blocking the way. + +"Because I tell you so." + +"And because I am the daughter of Mr. Vrain," said Diana, stepping +forward. + +"Lord love ye, miss! are ye?" croaked Mrs. Kebby, stepping aside. "And +ye've come to look at your pa's blood, I'll be bound." + +Diana turned pale and shuddered, but controlling herself by an effort of +will, she swept past the old woman and entered the sitting-room. "Is +this the place?" she asked Lucian, who was holding the door open. + +"That it is, miss," cried the charwoman, who had hobbled after them, +"and yonder is the poor gentleman's blood; it soaked right through the +carpet," added Mrs. Kebby, with ghoulish relish. "Lor! 'ow it must 'ave +poured out!" + +"Hold your tongue, woman!" said Lucian roughly, seeing that Diana looked +as though about to faint. "Get on with your work!" + +"I'm going; it's upstairs I'm sweeping," growled the crone, retreating. +"You'll bring me to you if ye give a holler. I'll show ye round for a +shilling." + +"You shall have double if you leave us alone," said Lucian, pointing to +the door. + +Mrs. Kebby's blear eyes lighted up, and she leered amiably at the +couple. + +"I dessay it's worth two shillings," she said, chuckling hoarsely. "Oh, +I'm not so old but what I don't know two turtle doves. He! he! To kiss +over yer father's blood! Lawks! what a match 'twill be! He! he!" + +Still laughing hoarsely, Mrs. Kebby, in the midst of her unholy joy, was +pushed out of the door by Lucian, who immediately afterwards turned to +see if Diana had overheard her ill-chosen and ominous words. But Miss +Vrain, with a hard, white face, was leaning against the wall, and gave +no sign of such knowledge. Her eyes were fixed on a dull-looking red +stain of a dark hue, irregular in shape, and her hands the while were +pressed closely against her bosom, as though she felt a cruel pain in +her heart. With bloodless cheek and trembling lip the daughter looked +upon the evidence of her father's death. Lucian was alarmed by her +unnatural pallor. + +"Miss Vrain!" he exclaimed, starting forward, "you are ill! Let me lead +you out of this house." + +"No!" said Diana, waving him back. "Not till we examine every inch of +it; don't speak to me, please. I wish to use my eyes rather than my +tongue." + +Denzil, both as a lover and a friend, respected this emotion of the poor +young lady, so natural under the circumstances; and in silence conducted +her from room to room. All were empty and still dusty, for Mrs. Kebby's +broom swept sufficiently light, and the footfalls of the pair echoed +hollowly in the vast spaces. + +Diana looked into every corner, examined every fireplace, attempted +every window, but in no place could she find any extraneous object +likely to afford a clue to the crime. They went down into the basement +and explored the kitchen, the servant's parlour, the scullery, and the +pantry, but with the same unsatisfactory result. The kitchen door, which +led out into the back yard, showed signs of having been lately opened; +but when Diana drew Lucian's attention to this fact, as the murderer +having possibly entered thereby, he assured her that it had only lately +been opened by the detective, Link, when he was searching for clues. + +"I saw this door," added Lucian, striking it with his cane, "a week +before your father was killed. He showed it to me himself, to prove that +no one could have entered the house during his absence; and I was +satisfied then, from the rusty condition of the bolts, and the absence +of the key in the lock, that the door had not been opened--at all +events, during his tenancy." + +"Then how could those who killed him have entered?" + +"That is what I wish to learn, Miss Vrain. But why do you speak in the +plural?" + +"Because I believe that Lydia and Ferruci killed my father." + +"But I have proved to you that Mrs. Vrain remained at Bath." + +"I know it," replied Diana quickly, "but she sent Ferruci up to kill my +father, and I speak in the plural because I think--in a moral sense--she +is as guilty as the Italian." + +"That may be, Miss Vrain, but as yet we have not proved their guilt." + +Diana made no answer, but, followed by Lucian, ascended to the upper +part of the house, where they found Mrs. Kebby sweeping so vigorously +that she had raised a kind of dust storm. As soon as she saw the couple +she hobbled towards them to cajole them, if possible, into giving her +money. + +For a few moments Diana looked at her haughtily, not relishing the +familiarity of the old dame, but unexpectedly she stepped forward with a +look of excitement. + +"Where did you get that ribbon?" she asked Mrs Kebby, pointing to a +scrap of personal adornment on the neck of the rusty old creature. + +"This?" croaked Mrs. Kebby. "I picked it up in the kitchen downstairs. +It's a pretty red and yaller thing, but of no value, miss, so I don't +s'pose you'll take it orf me." + +Paying no attention to this whimpering, Diana twitched the ribbon out of +the old woman's hands and examined it. It was a broad yellow ribbon of +rich silk, spotted with red--very noticeably and evidently of foreign +manufacture. + +"It is the same!" cried Diana, greatly excited. "Mr. Denzil, I bought +this ribbon myself in Florence!" + +"Well," said Lucian, wondering at her excitement, "and what does that +prove?" + +"This: that a stiletto which my father bought in Florence, at the same +time, has been used to kill him! I tied this ribbon myself round the +handle of the stiletto!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +FURTHER DISCOVERIES + + +The silence which followed Diana's announcement regarding the ribbon and +stiletto--for Lucian kept silence out of sheer astonishment--was broken +by the hoarse voice of Mrs. Kebby: + +"If ye want the ribbon, miss, I'll not say no to a shilling. With what +your good gentleman promised, that will be three as I'm ready to take," +and Mrs. Kebby held out a dirty claw for the silver. + +"You'll sell it, will you!" cried out Diana indignantly, pouncing down +on the harridan. "How dare you keep what isn't yours? If you had shown +the detective this," shaking the ribbon in Mrs. Kebby's face, "he might +have caught the criminal!" + +"Pardon me," interposed Lucian, finding his voice, "I hardly think so, +Miss Vrain; for no one but yourself could have told that the ribbon +adorned the stiletto. Where did you see the weapon last?" + +"In the library at Berwin Manor. I hung it up on the wall myself, by +this ribbon." + +"Are you sure it is the same ribbon?" + +"I am certain," replied Diana emphatically. "I cannot be mistaken; the +colour and pattern are both peculiar. Where did you find it?" she +added, turning to Mrs. Kebby. + +"In the kitchen, I tell ye," growled the old woman sullenly. "I only +found it this blessed morning. 'Twas in a dark corner, near the door as +leads down to the woodshed. How was I to know 'twas any good?" + +"Did you find anything else?" asked Lucian mildly. + +"No, I didn't, sir." + +"Not a stiletto?" demanded Diana, putting the ribbon in her pocket. + +"I don't know what's a stiletter, miss; but I didn't find nothing; and I +ain't a thief, though some people as sets themselves above others by +taking ribbons as doesn't belong to 'em mayn't be much good." + +"The ribbon is not yours," said Diana haughtily. + +"Yes it are! Findings is keepings with me!" answered Mrs. Kebby. + +"Don't anger her," whispered Denzil, touching Miss Vrain's arm. "We may +find her useful." + +Diana looked from him to the old woman, and opened her purse, at the +sight of which Mrs. Kebby's sour face relaxed. When Miss Vrain gave her +half a sovereign she quite beamed with joy. "The blessing of heaven on +you, my dear," she said, with a curtsey. "Gold! good gold! Ah! this is a +brave day's work for me--thirteen blessed shillings!" + +"Ten, you mean, Mrs. Kebby!" + +"Oh, no, sir," cried Mrs. Kebby obsequiously, "the lady gave me ten, +bless her heart, but you've quite forgot your three." + +"I said two." + +"Ah! so you did, sir. I'm a poor schollard at 'rithmetic." + +"You're clever enough to get money out of people," said Diana, who was +disgusted at the avarice of the hag. "However, for the present you must +be content with what I have given you. If, in cleaning this house, you +find any other article, whatever it may be, you shall have another ten +shillings, on consideration that you take it at once to Mr. Denzil." + +Mrs. Kebby, who was tying up the piece of gold in the corner of her +handkerchief, nodded her old head with much complacency. "I'll do it, +miss; that is, if the gentleman will pay on delivery. I like cash." + +"You shall have cash," said Lucian, laughing; and then, as Diana +intimated her intention of leaving the house, he descended the stairs in +her company. + +Miss Vrain kept silence until they were outside in the sunshine, when +she cast an upward glance at the warm blue sky, dappled with light +clouds. + +"I am glad to be out of that house," she said, with a shudder. "There is +something in its dark and freezing atmosphere which chills my spirits." + +"It is said to be haunted, you know," said Lucian carelessly; then, +after a pause, he spoke on the subject which was uppermost in his mind. +"Now that you have this piece of evidence, Miss Vrain, what do you +intend to do?" + +"Make sure that I have made no mistake, Mr. Denzil. I shall go down to +Berwin Manor this afternoon. If the stiletto is still hanging on the +library wall by its ribbon, I shall admit my mistake; if it is absent, +why then I shall return to town and consult with you as to what is best +to be done. You know I rely on you." + +"I shall do whatever you wish, Miss Vrain," said Lucian fervently. + +"It is very good of you," replied the lady gratefully, "For I have no +right to take up your time in this manner." + +"You have every right--that is, I mean--I mean," stammered Denzil, +thinking from the surprised look of Miss Vrain that he had gone too far +at so early a stage of their acquaintance. "I mean that as a briefless +barrister I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be too happy +to place it and myself at your service. And moreover," he added in a +lighter tone, "I have some selfish interest in the matter, also, for it +is not every one who finds so difficult a riddle as this to solve. I +shall never rest easy in my mind until I unravel the whole of this +tangled skein." + +"How good you are!" cried Diana, impulsively extending her hand. "It is +as impossible for me to thank you sufficiently now for your kindness as +it will be to reward you hereafter, should we succeed." + +"As to my reward," said Lucian, retaining her hand longer than was +necessary, "we can decide what I merit when your father's death is +avenged." + +Diana coloured and turned away her eyes, withdrawing her hand in the +meantime from the too warm clasp of the young man. A sense of his +meaning was suddenly borne in upon her by look and clasp, and she felt a +maidenly confusion at the momentary boldness of this undeclared lover. +However, with feminine tact she laughed off the hint, and shortly +afterwards took her leave, promising to communicate as speedily as +possible with Lucian regarding the circumstances of her visit to Bath. + +The barrister wished to escort her back to the Royal John Hotel in +Kensington, but Miss Vrain, guessing his feelings, would not permit +this; so Lucian, hat in hand, was left standing in Geneva Square, while +his divinity drove off in a prosaic hansom. With her went the glory of +the sunlight, the sweetness of the spring; and Denzil, more in love than +ever, sighed hugely as he walked slowly back to his lodgings. + +For doleful moods, hard work and other interests are the sole cure; +therefore, that same afternoon Lucian returned to explore the Silent +House on his own account. It had struck him as suggestive that the +parti-coloured ribbon to which Diana attached such importance should +have been found in so out-of-the-way a corner as the threshold of the +door which conducted to what Mrs. Kebby, with characteristic +misrepresentation, called the woodshed. In reality the place in +question was a cellar, which extended under the soil of the back yard, +and was lighted from the top by a skylight placed on a level with the +ground. + +On being admitted again by Mrs. Kebby, and sending that ancient female +to her Augean task of cleansing the house, Lucian descended to the +basement in order to examine kitchen and cellar more particularly. If, +as Diana stated, the ribbon had been knotted loosely about the hilt of +the stiletto, it must have fallen off unnoticed by the assassin when, +weapon in hand, he was retreating from the scene of crime. + +"He must have come down here from the sitting-room," mused Denzil, as he +stood in the cool, damp kitchen. "And--as the ribbon was found by Mrs. +Kebby near yonder door--it is most probable that he left the kitchen by +that passage for the cellar. Now it remains for me to find out how he +made his exit from the cellar; and also I must look for the stiletto, +which he possibly dropped in his flight, as he did the ribbon." + +While thus soliloquising, Denzil lighted a candle which he had taken the +precaution to bring with him for the purpose of making his underground +explorations. Having thus provided himself with means to dispel the +darkness, he stepped into the door and descended the stone stairs which +led to the cellars. + +At the foot of the steps he found himself in a passage running from the +front to the back of the house, and forthwith turned to the right in +order to reach the particular cellar, which was dug out in the manner of +a cave under the back yard. + +This, as Lucian ascertained by walking round, was faced with stone and +had bins on all four sides for the storage of wine. Overhead there was a +glass skylight, of which the glass was so dusty and dirty that only a +few rays of light could struggle into the murky depths below. But what +particularly attracted the attention of Denzil was a short wooden ladder +lying on the stone pavement, and which probably was used to reach the +wine in the upper bins. + +"And I should not be surprised if it had been used for another purpose," +murmured Lucian, glancing upward at the square aperture of the skylight. + +It struck him as possible that a stranger could enter thereby and +descend by the ladder. To test the truth of this he reared the ladder in +the middle of the cellar so that its top rung rested against the lower +edge of the square overhead. Ascending carefully--for the ladder was by +no means stout--he pushed the glass frame upward and found that it +yielded easily to a moderate amount of strength. Climbing up, step after +step, Lucian arose through the aperture like a genie out of the earth, +and soon found that he could jump easily out of the cellar into the +yard. + +"Good!" he exclaimed, much gratified by this discovery. "I now see how +the assassin entered. No wonder the kitchen door was bolted and barred, +and that no one was seen to visit Vrain by the front door. Any one who +knew the position of that skylight could obtain admission easily, at any +hour, by descending the ladder and passing through cellar and kitchen to +the upper part of the house. So much is clear, but I must next discover +how those who entered got into this yard." + +And, indeed, there seemed no outlet, for the yard was enclosed on three +sides by a fence of palings the height of a man, and rendered impervious +to damp by a coating of tar; on the fourth side by the house itself. +Only over the fence--which was no insuperable obstacle--could a stranger +have gained access to the yard; and towards the fence opposite to the +house Lucian walked. In it there was no gate, or opening of any kind, so +it would appear that to come into the yard a stranger would need to +climb over, a feat easily achieved by a moderately active man. + +As Denzil examined this frail barrier his eye was caught by a fluttering +object on the left--that is, the side in a line with the skylight. This +he found was the scrap of a woman's veil of thin black gauze spotted +with velvet. At once his thoughts reverted to the shadow of the woman on +the blind, and the suspicions of Diana Vrain. + +"Great heavens!" he thought, "can that doll of a Lydia be guilty, after +all?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE VEIL AND ITS OWNER + + +As may be surmised, Lucian was considerably startled by the discovery of +this important evidence so confirmative of Diana's suspicions. Yet the +knowledge which Link had gained relative to Mrs. Vrain's remaining at +Berwin Manor to keep Christmas seemed to contradict the fact; and he +could by no means reconcile her absence with the presence on the fence +of the fragment of gauze; still less with the supposition that she must +have climbed over a tolerably difficult obstacle to enter the yard, let +alone the necessity--by no means easy to a woman--of descending into the +disused cellar by means of a shaky and fragile ladder. + +"After all," thought Lucian, when he was seated that same evening at his +dinner, "I am no more certain that the veil is the property of Mrs. +Vrain than I am that she was the woman whose shadow I saw on the blind. +Whosoever it was that gained entrance by passing over fence and through +cellar, must have come across the yard belonging to the house facing the +other road. Therefore, the person must be known to the owner of that +house, and I must discover who the owner is. Miss Greeb will know." + +Lucian made this last remark with the greatest confidence, as he was +satisfied, from a long acquaintance with his landlady, that there was +very little concerning her own neighbourhood of which she was ignorant. +The result verified his belief, for when Miss Greeb came in to clear the +table--a duty she invariably undertook so as to have a chance of +conversing with her admired lodger--she was able to afford him the +fullest information on the subject. The position of the house in +question; the name of its owner; the character of its tenants; she was +thoroughly well posted up in every item, and willingly imparted her +knowledge with much detail and comment. + +"No. 9 Jersey Street," said she, unhesitatingly; "that is the number of +the house at the back of the haunted mansion, Mr. Denzil. I know it as +well as I know my ten fingers." + +"To whom does it belong?" asked Lucian. + +"Mr. Peacock; he owns most of the property round about here, having +bought up the land when the place was first built on. He's seventy years +of age, you know, Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Greeb conversationally, +"and rich!--Lord! I don't know how rich he is! Building houses cheap and +letting them dear; he has made more out of that than in sanding his +sugar and chicorying his coffee. He----" + +"What is the name of the tenant?" interrupted Lucian, cutting short +this rapid sketch of Peacock's life. + +"Mrs. Bensusan, one of the largest women hereabouts." + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Fat, Mr. Denzil. She turns the scale at eighteen stone, and has pretty +well broke every weighing machine in the place." + +"What reputation has she, Miss Greeb?" + +"Oh, pretty good," said the little woman, shrugging her shoulders, +"though they do say she overcharges and underfeeds her lodgers." + +"She keeps a boarding-house, then?" + +"Well, she lets rooms," explained Miss Greeb in a very definite manner, +"and those who live in them supply their own food, and pay for service +and kitchen fire." + +"Who is with her now?" + +"No one," replied the landlady promptly. "She's had her bill up these +three months. Her last lodger left about Christmas." + +"What is his name--or her name?" + +"Oh, it was a 'he,'" said Miss Greeb, smiling. + +"Mrs. Bensusan prefers gentlemen, who are out of doors all day, to +ladies muddling and meddling all day about the house. I must say I do, +too, Mr. Denzil," ended the lady, with a fascinating glance. + +"What is his name, Miss Greeb?" repeated Lucian, quite impervious to the +hint. + +"Let me see," said Miss Greeb, discomfited at the result of her failure. +"A queer name that had to do with payments. Bill as the short for +William. No, it wasn't that, although it does suggest an account. +Quarterday? No. But it had something to do with quarter-days. Rent!" +finished Miss Greeb triumphantly. "Rent, with a 'W' before it." + +"W-r-e-n-t!" spelled Lucian. + +"Yes. Wrent! Mr. Wrent. A strange name, Mr. Denzil--a kind of charade, +as I may say. He was with Mrs. Bensusan six months; came to her house +about the time Mr. Berwin hired No. 13." + +"Very strange!" assented Lucian, to stop further comment. "What kind of +a man was this Mr. Wrent?" + +"I don't know. I never heard much about him," replied Miss Greeb +regretfully. "May I ask why you want to know all this, Mr. Denzil?" + +Lucian hesitated, as he rather dreaded the chattering tongue of his +landlady, and did not wish his connection with the Vrain case to become +public property in Geneva Square. Still, Miss Greeb was a valuable ally, +if only for her wide acquaintance with the neighbourhood, its +inhabitants, and their doings. Therefore, after a moment's reflection, +he resolved to secure Miss Greeb as a coadjutor, and risk her excessive +garrulity. + +"Can you keep a secret, Miss Greeb?" he asked, with impressive +solemnity. + +Struck by his serious air, and at once on fire with curiosity to learn +its reason, Miss Greeb loudly protested that she should sooner die than +breathe a word of what her lodger was about to divulge. She hinted, +with many a mysterious look and nod, that secrets endangering the +domestic happiness of every family in the square were known to her, and +appealed to the fact that such families still lived in harmony as a +proof that she was to be trusted. + +"Wild horses wouldn't drag out of me what I know!" cried Miss Greeb +earnestly. "You can confide in me as you would in a"--she was about to +say mother, but recollecting her juvenile looks, substituted the word +"sister." + +"Very good," said Lucian, explaining just as much as would serve his +purpose. "Then I may tell you, Miss Greeb, that I suspect the assassin +of Mr. Vrain entered through Mrs. Bensusan's house, and so got into the +yard of No. 13." + +"Lord!" cried Miss Greeb, taken by surprise. "You don't say, sir, that +Mr. Wrent is a murdering villain, steeped in gore?" + +"No! No!" replied Lucian, smiling at this highly-coloured description. +"Do not jump to conclusions, Miss Greeb. So far as I am aware, this Mr. +Wrent you speak of is innocent. Do you know Mrs. Bensusan and her house +well?" + +"I've visited both several times, Mr. Denzil." + +"Well, then, tell me," continued the barrister, "is the house built with +a full frontage like those in this square? I mean, to gain Mrs. +Bensusan's back yard is it necessary to go through Mrs. Bensusan's +house?" + +"No," replied Miss Greeb, shutting her eyes to conjure up the image of +her friend's premises. "You can go round the back through the side +passage which leads in from Jersey Road." + +"H'm!" said Lucian in a dissatisfied tone. "That complicates matters." + +"How so, sir?" demanded the curious landlady. + +"Never mind just now, Miss Greeb. Do you think you could draw me a plan +of this passage of Mrs. Bensusan's house, and of No. 13, with the yards +between?" + +"I never could sketch," said Miss Greeb regretfully, "and I am no +artist, Mr. Denzil, but I think I can do what you want." + +"Here is a sheet of paper and a pencil. Will you sketch me the houses as +clearly as you can?" + +With much reflection and nibbling of the pencil, and casting of her eyes +up to the ceiling to aid her memory, Miss Greeb in ten minutes produced +the required sketch. + +"There you are, Mr. Denzil," said Miss Greeb, placing this work of art +before the barrister, "that's as good as I can draw." + +"It is excellent, Miss Greeb," replied Lucian, examining the plan. "I +see that anyone can get into Mrs. Bensusan's yard through the side +passage." + +"Oh, yes; but I don't think a person could without being seen by Mrs. +Bensusan or Rhoda." + +"Who is Rhoda?" + +"The servant. She's as sharp as a needle, but an idle slut, for all +that, Mr. Denzil. They say she's a gypsy of some kind." + +"Is the gate of this passage locked at night?" + +"Not that I know of." + +"Then what is to prevent any one coming in under cover of darkness and +climbing the fence? He would escape then being seen by the landlady and +her servant." + +"I daresay; but he'd be seen climbing over the fence from the back +windows of the houses on each side of No. 13." + +"Not if he chose a dark night for the climbing." + +"Well, even if he did, how could he get into No. 13?" argued Miss Greeb. +"You know I've read the report of the case, Mr. Denzil, and it couldn't +be found out (as the kitchen door was locked, and no stranger entered +the square) how the murdering assassin got in." + +"I may discover even that," replied Lucian, not choosing to tell Miss +Greeb that he had already discovered the entrance. "With time and +inquiry and observation we can do much. Thank you, Miss Greeb," he +continued, slipping the drawing of the plan into his breast coat pocket. +"I am much obliged for your information. Of course you'll repeat our +conversation to no one?" + +"I swear to breathe no word," said Miss Greeb dramatically, and left the +room greatly pleased with this secret understanding, which had quite the +air of an innocent intrigue such as was detailed in journals designed +for the use of the family circle. + +For the next day or two Lucian mused over the information he had +obtained, and made a fresh drawing of the plan for his own satisfaction; +but he took no steps on this new evidence, as he was anxious to submit +his discoveries to Miss Vrain before doing so. At the present time Diana +was at Bath, taking possession of her ancestral acres, and consulting +the family lawyer on various matters connected with the property. + +Once she wrote to Lucian, advising him that she had heard several pieces +of news likely to be useful in clearing up the mystery; but these she +refused to communicate save at a personal interview. Denzil was thus +kept in suspense, and unable to rest until he knew precisely the value +of Miss Vrain's newly acquired information; therefore it was with a +feeling of relief that he received a note from her asking him to call at +three o'clock on Sunday at the Royal John Hotel. + +Since her going and coming a week had elapsed. + +Now that his divinity had returned, and he was about to see her again, +the sun shone once more in the heavens for Lucian, and he arrayed +himself for his visit with the utmost care. His heart beat violently and +his colour rose as he was ushered into the little sitting-room, and he +thought less of the case at the moment than of the joy in seeing Miss +Vrain once more, in hearing her speak, and watching her lovely face. + +On her part, Diana, recollecting their last meeting, or more +particularly their parting, blushed in her turn, and gave her hand to +the barrister with a new-born timidity. She also was inclined to like +Lucian more than was reasonable for the peace of her heart; so these two +people, each drawn to the other, should have come together as lovers +even at this second meeting. + +But, alas! for the prosaicness of this workaday world, they had to +assume the attitudes of lawyer and client; and discourse of crime +instead of love. The situation was a trifle ironical, and must have +provoked the laughter of the gods. + +"Well?" asked Miss Vrain, getting to business as soon as Lucian was +seated, "and what have you found out?" + +"A great deal likely to be of service to us. And you?" + +"I!" replied Miss Vrain in a satisfied tone. "I have discovered that the +stiletto with the ribbon is gone from the library." + +"Who took it away?" + +"No one knows. I can't find out, although I asked all the servants; but +it has been missing from its place for some months." + +"Do you think Mrs. Vrain took it?" + +"I can't say," replied Diana, "but I have made one discovery about Mrs. +Vrain which implicates her still more in the crime. She was not in +Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve, but in town." + +"Really!" said Lucian much amazed. "But Link was told that she spent +Christmas in the Manor at Bath." + +"So she did. Link asked generally, and was answered generally. Mrs. +Vrain went up to town on Christmas Eve and returned on Christmas Day; +but," said Diana, with emphasis, "she spent the night in town, and on +that night the murder was committed." + +Lucian produced his pocketbook and took therefrom the fragment of gauze, +which he handed to Diana. + +"I found this on the fence at the back of No. 13," he said. "It is a +veil--a portion of a velvet-spotted veil." + +"A velvet-spotted veil!" cried Diana, looking at it. "Then it belongs to +Lydia Vrain. She usually wears velvet-spotted veils. Mr. Denzil, the +evidence is complete--that woman is guilty!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +GOSSIP + + +Going by circumstantial evidence, Diana certainly had good grounds to +accuse Mrs. Vrain of committing the crime, for there were four points at +least which could be proved past all doubt as incriminating her strongly +in the matter. + +In the first place, the female shadow on the blind seen by Lucian, +showed that a woman had been in the habit of entering the house by the +secret way of the cellar, and during the absence of Vrain. + +Secondly, the finding of the parti-coloured ribbon in the Silent House, +which had been knotted round the handle of the stiletto by Diana, and +the absence of the stiletto itself from its usual place on the wall of +the Berwin Manor library, proved that the weapon had been removed +therefrom to London, and, presumably, used to commit the deed, seeing +that otherwise there was no necessity for its presence in the Geneva +Square mansion. + +Thirdly, Diana had discovered that Lydia had spent the night of the +murder in town; and, lastly, she also declared that the fragment of +gauze found by Lucian on the dividing fence was the property of Mrs. +Vrain. + +This quartette of charges was recapitulated by Diana in support of her +accusation of her stepmother. + +"I always suspected Lydia as indirectly guilty," she declared in +concluding her speech for the prosecution, "but I was not certain until +now that she had actually struck the blow herself." + +"But did she?" said Denzil, by no means convinced. + +"I do not know what further evidence you require to prove it," retorted +Diana indignantly. "She was in town on Christmas Eve; she took the +stiletto from the library, and----" + +"You can't prove that," interrupted Lucian decidedly. Then, seeing the +look of anger on Diana's face, he hastened to apologise. "Excuse me, +Miss Vrain," he said nervously. "I am not the less your friend because I +combat your arguments; but in this case it is necessary to look on both +sides of the question. Is it possible to prove that Mrs. Vrain removed +this dagger?" + +"Nobody actually saw it in her possession," replied Diana, who was more +amenable to reason than the majority of her sex, "but I can prove that +the stiletto, with its ribbon, remained in the library after the +departure of my father. If Lydia did not take it, who else had occasion +to bring it up to London?" + +"Let us say Count Ferruci," suggested Denzil. + +Diana pointed to the fragment of the veil lying on the table. "On the +evidence of that piece of gauze," she said, "it was Lydia who entered +the house. Again, you saw her shadow on the window blind." + +"I saw two shadows," corrected Lucian hastily, "those of a man and a +woman." + +"In plain English, Mr. Denzil, those of Mrs. Vrain and Count Ferruci." + +"We cannot be certain of that." + +"But circumstantial evidence----" + +"Is not always conclusive, Miss Vrain." + +"Upon my word, sir, you seem inclined to defend this woman!" + +"Miss Vrain," said Lucian seriously, "if we don't give her the benefit +of every doubt the jury will, should she be tried on this charge. I +admit that the evidence against this woman is strong, but it is not +certain; and I argue the case looking at it from her point of view--the +only view which is likely to be taken by her counsel. If Mrs. Vrain +killed her husband she must have had a strong motive to do so." + +"Well," said Diana impatiently, "there is the assurance money." + +"I don't know if that motive is quite strong enough to justify this +woman in risking her neck," responded the barrister. "As Mrs. Vrain of +Berwin Manor she had an ample income, for your father seems to have left +all the rents to her, and spent but little on himself; also she had an +assured position, and, on the whole, a happy life. Why should she risk +losing these advantages to gain more money?" + +"She wanted to marry Ferruci," said Diana, driven to another point of +defence. "She was almost engaged to him before she married my foolish +father; she invited him to Berwin Manor against the wish of her husband, +and showed plainly that she loved him sufficiently to commit a crime for +his sake. With my father dead, and she in possession of £20,000, she +could hope to marry this Italian." + +"Can you prove that she was so reckless?" + +"Yes, I can," replied Miss Vrain defiantly. "The same person who told me +that Lydia was not at Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve can tell you that +her behaviour with Count Ferruci was the talk of Bath." + +"Who is this person?" asked Lucian, looking up. + +"A friend of mine--Miss Tyler. I brought her up with me, so that you +should get her information at first hand. You can see her at once," and +Diana rose to ring the bell. + +"One moment," interposed Lucian, before she could touch the button. +"Tell me if Miss Tyler knows your reason for bringing her up." + +"I have not told her directly," said Diana, with some bluntness, "but as +she is no fool, I fancy she suspects. Why do you ask?" + +"Because I have something to tell you which I do not wish your friend to +hear, unless," added Lucian significantly, "you desire to take her into +our confidence." + +"No," said Diana promptly. "I do not think it is wise to take her into +our confidence. She is rather--well, to put it plainly, Mr. +Denzil--rather a gossip." + +"H'm! As such, do you consider her evidence reliable?" + +"We can pick the grains of wheat out of the chaff. No doubt she +exaggerates and garbles, after the fashion of a scandal-loving woman, +but her evidence is valuable, especially as showing that Lydia was not +at Bath on Christmas Eve. We will tell her nothing, so she can suspect +as much as she likes; if we do speak freely she will spread the gossip, +and if we don't, she will invent worse facts; so in either case it +doesn't matter. What is it you have to tell me?" + +Lucian could scarcely forbear smiling at Diana's candidly expressed +estimate of her ally's character, but, fearful of giving offence to his +companion, he speedily composed his features. With much explanation and +an exhibition of Miss Greeb's plan, he gave an account of his +discoveries, beginning with his visit to the cellar, and ending with the +important conversation with his landlady. Diana listened attentively, +and when he concluded gave it as her opinion that Lydia had entered the +first yard by the side passage and had climbed over the fence into the +second, "as is clearly proved by the veil," she concluded decisively. + +"But why should she take all that trouble, and run the risk of being +seen, when it is plain that your father expected her?" + +"Expected her!" cried Diana, thunderstruck. "Impossible!" + +"I don't know so much about that," replied Lucian drily, "although I +admit that on the face of it my assertion appears improbable. But when I +met your father the second time, he was so anxious to prove, by letting +me examine the house, that no one had entered it during his absence, +that I am certain he was well aware the shadows I saw were those of +people he knew were in the room. Now, if the woman was Mrs. Vrain, she +must have been in the habit of visiting your father by the back way." + +"And Ferruci also?" + +"I am not sure if the male shadow was Ferruci, no more than I am certain +the other was Mrs. Vrain." + +"But the veil?" + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders in despair. "That seems to prove it was +she," he said dubiously, "but I can't explain your father's conduct in +receiving her in so secretive a way. The whole thing is beyond me." + +"Well, what is to be done?" said Diana, after a pause, during which they +looked blankly at one another. + +"I must think. My head is too confused just now with this conflicting +evidence to plan any line of action. As a relief, let us examine your +friend and hear what she has to say." + +Diana assented, and touched the bell. Shortly, Miss Tyler appeared, +ushered in by a nervous waiter, to whom it would seem she had addressed +a sharp admonition on his want of deference. Immediately on entering she +pounced down on Miss Vrain like a hawk on a dove, pecked her on both +cheeks, addressed her as "my dearest Di," and finally permitted herself, +with downcast eyes and a modest demeanour, to be introduced to Lucian. + +It might be inferred from the foregoing description that Miss Tyler was +a young and ardent damsel in her teens; whereas she was considerably +nearer forty than thirty, and possessed an uncomely aspect unpleasing to +male eyes. Her own were of a cold grey, her lips were thin, her waist +pinched in, and--as the natural consequence of tight lacing--her nose +was red. Her scanty hair was drawn off her high forehead very tightly, +and screwed into a cast-iron knob at the nape of her long neck; and she +smiled occasionally in an acid manner, with many teeth. She wore a +plainly-made green dress, with a toby frill; and a large silver cross +dangled on her flat bosom. Altogether, she was about as venomous a +specimen of an unappropriated blessing as can well be imagined. + +"Bella," said Miss Vrain to this unattractive female, "for certain +reasons, which I may tell you hereafter, Mr. Denzil wishes to know if +Mrs. Vrain was at Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve." + +"Of course she was not, dearest Di," said Bella, drooping her elderly +head on one scraggy shoulder, with an acid smile. "Didn't I tell you so? +I was asked by Lydia--alas! I wish I could say my dearest Lydia--to +spend Christmas at Berwin Manor. She invited me for my singing and +playing, you know: and as we all have to make ourselves agreeable, I +came to see her. On the day before Christmas she received a letter by +the early post which seemed to upset her a great deal, and told me she +would have to run up to town on business. She did, and stayed all night, +and came down next morning to keep Christmas. I thought it _very_ +strange." + +"What was her business in town, Miss Tyler?" asked Lucian. + +"Oh, she didn't tell _me_," said Bella, tossing her head, "at least not +directly, but I gathered from what she said that something was wrong +with poor dear Mr. Clyne--her father, you know, dearest Di." + +"Was the letter from him?" + +"Oh, I couldn't say that, Mr. Denzil, as I don't know, and I never speak +by hearsay. So much mischief is done in the world by people repeating +idle tales of which they are not sure." + +"Was Count Ferruci at Berwin Manor at the time?" + +"Oh, dear me, no, Di! I told you that he was up in London the whole of +Christmas week. I only hope," added Miss Tyler, with a venomous smile, +"that Lydia did not go up to meet him." + +"Why should she?" demanded Lucian bluntly. + +"Oh, I'm not blind!" cried Bella, shrilly laughing. "No, indeed. The +Count--a most amiable man--was _very_ attentive to me at one time; and +Lydia--a married woman--I regret to say, did not like him being so. I am +indeed sorry to repeat scandal, Mr. Denzil, but the way in which Mrs. +Vrain behaved towards me and carried on with the Count was not +creditable. I am a gentlewoman, Mr. Denzil, and a churchwoman, and as +such cannot countenance such conduct as his." + +"You infer, then, that Mrs. Vrain was in love with the Italian?" + +"I shouldn't be at all surprised to hear it," cried Bella again. "But he +did not care for her! Oh, dear, no! It is my belief, Mr. Denzil, that +Mrs. Vrain knows more about the death of her husband than she chooses to +admit. Oh, I've read _all_ the papers; I know _all_ about the death." + +"Miss Tyler!" said Lucian, alarmed. + +"Bella!" cried Miss Vrain. "I----" + +"Oh, I'm not blind, dearest," interrupted Bella, speaking very fast. "I +know you ask me these questions to find out if Lydia killed her husband. +Well, she did!" + +"How do you know, Miss Tyler?" + +"Because I'm sure of it, Mr. Denzil. Wasn't Mr. Vrain stabbed with a +dagger? Very well, then. There was a dagger hanging in the library of +the Manor, and I saw it there four days before Christmas. When I looked +for it on Christmas Day it was gone." + +"Gone! Who took it?" + +"Mrs. Vrain!" + +"Are you sure?" + +"Yes, I am!" snapped Miss Tyler. "I didn't see her take it, but it was +there before she went, and it wasn't there on Christmas Day. If Lydia +did not take it, who did?" + +"Count Ferruci, perhaps." + +"He wasn't there! No!" cried Bella, raising her head, "I'm sure Mrs. +Vrain stole it and killed her husband, and I don't care who hears me say +so!" + +Diana and Lucian looked at one another in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE HOUSE IN JERSEY STREET + + +As her listeners made no comment on Miss Tyler's accusation of Mrs. +Vrain, she paused only for a moment to recover her breath, and was off +again in full cry with a budget of ancient gossip drawn from a very +retentive memory. + +"Of the way in which Lydia treated her poor dear husband I know little," +cried the fair Bella. "Only this, that she drove him out of the house by +her scandalous conduct. Yes, indeed; although you may not believe me, +Di. You were away in Australia at the time, but I kept a watch on Lydia +in your interest, dear, and our housemaid heard from your housemaid the +most dreadful things. Why, Mr. Vrain remonstrated with Lydia, and +ordered Count Ferruci out of the house, but Lydia would not let him go; +and Mr. Vrain left the house himself." + +"Where did he go to, Miss Tyler?" + +"I don't know; nobody knows. But it is my opinion," said the spinster, +with a significant look, "that he went to London to see about a divorce. +But he was weak in the head, poor man, and I suppose let things go on. +When next I heard of him he was a corpse in Geneva Square." + +"But did my father tell his wife that he was in Geneva Square?" + +"Dearest Di, I can't say; but I don't believe he had anything to do with +her after he left the house." + +"Then if she did not know his whereabouts, how could she kill him?" +asked Denzil pertinently. + +Brought to a point which she could not evade, Bella declined to answer +this question, but tossed her head and bit her lip, with a fine colour. +All her accusations of Mrs. Vrain had been made generally, and, as +Lucian noted, were unsupported by fact. From a legal point of view this +spiteful gossip of a jealous woman was worth nothing, but in a broad +sense it was certainly useful in showing the discord which had existed +between Vrain and his wife. Lucian saw that little good was to be gained +from this prejudiced witness, so thanking Miss Tyler courteously for her +information, he arose to go. + +"Wait for a moment, Mr. Denzil," said Diana hurriedly. "I want to ask +you something. Bella, would you mind----" + +"Leaving the room? Oh, dear, no!" burst out Miss Tyler, annoyed at being +excluded. "I've said all I have to say, and anything I can do, dearest +Di, to assist you and Mr. Denzil in hanging that woman, I----" + +"Miss Tyler," interrupted Lucian sternly, "you must not speak so +wildly, for as yet there is nothing to prove that Mrs. Vrain is guilty." + +"She is guilty enough for me, Mr. Denzil; but like all men, I suppose +you take her side, because she is supposed to be pretty. Pretty!" +reflected Bella scornfully, "I never could see it myself; a painted up +minx, dragged up from the gutter. I wonder at your taste, Mr. Denzil, +indeed I do. Pretty, the idea! What fools men are! I'm glad I never +married one! Indeed no! He! he!" + +And with a shrill laugh to point this sour-grape sentiment, and mark her +disdain for Lucian, the fair Bella took herself and her lean form out of +the room. + +Diana and the barrister were too deeply interested in their business to +take much notice of Bella's hysterical outburst, but looked at one +another gravely as she departed. + +"Well, Mr. Denzil," said the former, repeating her earlier question, +"what is to be done now? Shall we see Mrs. Vrain?" + +"Not yet," replied Lucian quickly. "We must secure proofs of Mrs. +Vrain's being in that yard before we can get any confession out of her. +If you will leave it in my hands, Miss Vrain, I shall call on Mrs. +Bensusan." + +"Who is Mrs. Bensusan?" + +"She is the tenant of the house in Jersey Street. It is possible that +she or her servant may know something about the illegal use made of the +right of way." + +"Yes, I think that is the next step to take. But what am I to do in the +meantime?" + +"Nothing. If I were you I would not even see Mrs. Vrain." + +"I will not seek her voluntarily," replied Diana, "but as I have been to +Berwin Manor she is certain to hear that I am in England, and may +perhaps find out my address, and call. But if she does, you may be sure +that I will be most judicious in my remarks." + +"I leave all that to your discretion," said Denzil, rising. "Good-bye, +Miss Vrain. As soon as I am in possession of any new evidence I shall +call again." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Denzil, and thank you for all your kindness." + +Diana made this remark with so kindly a look, so becoming a blush, and +so warm a pressure of the hand, that Lucian felt quite overcome, and not +trusting himself to speak, walked swiftly out of the room. + +In spite of the gravity of the task in which he was concerned, at that +moment he thought more of Diana's looks and speech than of the detective +business which he had taken up for love's sake. But on reaching his +rooms in Geneva Square he made a mighty effort to waken from these day +dreams, and with a stern determination addressed himself resolutely to +the work in hand. + +In this case the bitter came before the sweet. But by accomplishing the +desire of Diana, and solving the mystery of her father's death, Lucian +hoped to win not only her smiles but the more substantial reward of her +heart and hand. + +Before calling on Mrs. Bensusan the barrister debated within himself as +to whether it would not be judicious to call in again the assistance of +Link, and by telling him of the new evidence which had been found place +him thereby in possession of new material to prosecute the case. But +Link lately had taken so pessimistic a view of the matter that Lucian +fancied he would scoff at his late discoveries, and discourage him in +prosecuting what seemed to be a fruitless quest. + +Denzil was anxious, as Diana's knight, to do as much of the work as +possible in order to gain the reward of her smiles. It is true that he +had no legal authority to make these inquiries, and it was possible that +Mrs. Bensusan might refuse to answer questions concerning her own +business, unsanctioned by law; but on recalling the description of Miss +Greeb, Lucian fancied that Mrs. Bensusan, as a fat woman, might only be +good-natured and timid. + +He therefore dismissed all ideas of asking Link to intervene, and +resolved to risk a personal interview with the tenant of the Jersey +Street house. It would be time enough to invite Link's assistance, he +thought, when Mrs. Bensusan--as yet an unknown quantity in the +case--proved obstinate in replying to his questions. + +Mrs. Bensusan proved to be quite as stout as Miss Greeb had reported. A +gigantically fat woman, she made up in breadth what she lacked in +length. Yet she seemed to have some activity about her, too, for she +opened the door personally to Lucian, who was quite amazed when he +beheld her monstrous bulk blocking up the doorway. Her face was white +and round like a pale moon; she had staring eyes of a china blue, +resembling the vacant optics of a wax doll; and, on the whole, appeared +to be a timid, lymphatic woman, likely to answer any questions put to +her in a sufficiently peremptory tone. Lucian foresaw that he was not +likely to have much trouble with this mountain of flesh. + +"What might you be pleased to want, sir?" she asked Lucian, in the +meekest of voices. "Is it about the lodgings?" + +"Yes," answered the barrister boldly, for he guessed that Mrs. Bensusan +would scuttle back into the house like a rabbit to its burrow, did he +speak too plainly at the outset, "that is--I wish to inquire about a +friend of mine." + +"Did he lodge here, sir?" + +"Yes. A Mr. Wrent." + +"Deary me!" said the fat woman, with mild surprise. "Mr. Wrent left me +shortly after Christmas. A kind gentleman, but timid; he----" + +"Excuse me," interrupted Lucian, who wanted to get into the house, "but +don't you think you could tell me about my friend in a more convenient +situation?" + +"Oh, yes, sir--certainly, sir," wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, rolling back up +the narrow passage. "I beg your pardon, sir, for my forgetfulness, but +my head ain't what it ought to be. I'm a lone widow, sir, and not over +strong." + +Denzil could have laughed at this description, as the lady's bulk gave +the lie to her assertion. However, on diplomatic grounds he suppressed +his mirth, and followed his ponderous guide into a sitting-room so small +that she almost filled it herself. + +As he left the passage he saw a brilliant red head pop down the +staircase leading to the basement; but whether it was that of a man or a +woman he could not say. Still, on recalling Miss Greeb's description of +the Bensusan household, he concluded that the red head was the property +of Rhoda, the sharp servant, and argued from her appearance in the +background, and rapid disappearance, that she was in the habit of +listening to conversations she was not meant to hear. + +Mrs. Bensusan sat down on the sofa, as being most accommodating to her +bulk, and cast a watery look around the small apartment, which was +furnished in that extraordinary fashion which seems to be the peculiar +characteristic of boarding houses. The walls and carpet were patterned +with glowing bunches of red roses; the furniture was covered with +stamped red velvet; the ornaments consisted of shells, wax fruit under +glass shades, mats of Berlin wool, vases with dangling pendants of +glass, and such like elegant survivals of the early Victorian epoch. + +Hideous as the apartment was, it seemed to afford Mrs. Bensusan--also a +survival--great pleasure; and she cast a complacent look around as +Lucian seated himself on an uncomfortable chair covered with an +antimacassar of crochet work. + +"My rooms are most comfortable, an' much liked," said Mrs. Bensusan, +sighing, "but I have not had many lodgers lately. Rhoda thinks it must +be on account of that horrible murder." + +"The murder of Vrain in No. 13?" + +"Ah!" groaned the fat woman, looking tearfully over her double chin, "I +see you have heard of it." + +"Everybody has heard of it," replied Lucian, "and I was one of the first +to hear, since I live in Miss Greeb's house, opposite No. 13." + +"Indeed, sir!" grunted Mrs. Bensusan, stiffening a little at the sound +of a rival lodging-house keeper's name. "Then you are Mr. Denzil, the +gentleman who occupies Miss Greeb's first floor front." + +"Yes. And I have come to ask you a few questions." + +"About what, sir?" said Mrs. Bensusan, visibly alarmed. + +"Concerning Mr. Wrent." + +"You are a friend of his?" + +"I said so, Mrs. Bensusan, but as a matter of fact I never set eyes on +the gentleman in my life." + +Mrs. Bensusan gasped like a fish out of water, and patted her fat +breast with her fat hand, as though to give herself courage. "It is not +like a gentleman to say that another gentleman's his friend when he +ain't," she said, with an attempt at dignity. + +"Very true," answered Lucian, with great composure, "but you know the +saying, 'All is fair in love and war.' I will be plain with you, Mrs. +Bensusan," he added, "I am here to seek possible evidence in connection +with the murder of Mr. Vrain, in No. 13, on Christmas Eve." + +Mrs. Bensusan gave a kind of hoarse screech, and stared at Lucian in a +horrified manner. + +"Murder!" she repeated. "Lord! what mur--that murder! Mr. Vrain! Mr. +Vrain--that murder!" she repeated over and over again. + +"Yes, the murder of Mr. Vrain in No. 13 Geneva Square on Christmas Eve. +Now do you understand?" + +With another gasp Mrs. Bensusan threw up her fat hands and raised her +eyes to the ceiling. + +"As I am a Christian woman, sir," she cried, "I am as innocent as a babe +unborn!" + +"Of what?" asked Lucian sharply. + +"Of the murder!" wept Mrs. Bensusan, now dissolved in tears. "Rhoda +said----" + +"I don't want to hear what Rhoda said," interrupted Lucian impatiently, +"and I am not accusing you of the murder. But--your house is at the back +of No. 13." + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Bensusan, weeping like a Niobe. + +"And a fence divides your yard from that of No. 13?" + +"I won't contradict you, sir--it do." + +"And there is a passage leading from Jersey Street into your yard?" + +"There is, Mr. Denzil; it's useful for the trades-people." + +"And I daresay useful to others," said Lucian drily. "Now, Mrs. +Bensusan, do you know if any lady was in the habit of passing through +that passage at night?" + +Before Mrs. Bensusan could answer the door was dashed open, and Rhoda, +the red-headed, darted into the room. + +"Don't answer, missus!" she cried shortly. "As you love me, mum, don't!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +RHODA AND THE CLOAK + + +The one servant of Mrs. Bensusan was a girl of seventeen, who had a +local fame in the neighbourhood on account of her sharp tongue and many +precocious qualities. No one knew who her parents were, or where the fat +landlady had picked her up; but she had been in the Jersey Street house +some ten years, and had been educated and--in a manner--adopted by its +mistress, although Mrs. Bensusan always gave her cronies to understand +that Rhoda was simply and solely the domestic of the establishment. + +Nevertheless, for one of her humble position, she had a wonderful power +over her stout employer, the power of a strong mind over a weak one, and +in spite of her youth it was well known that Rhoda managed the domestic +economy of the house. Mrs. Bensusan was the sovereign, Rhoda the prime +minister. + +This position she had earned by dint of her own sharpness in dealing +with the world. And the local tradesmen were afraid of Rhoda. "Mrs. +Bensusan's devil," they called her, and never dared to give short +weight, or charge extra prices, or pass off damaged goods as new, when +Rhoda was the purchaser. On the contrary, No. 9 Jersey Street was +supplied with everything of the best, promptly and civilly, at ordinary +market rates; for neither butcher, nor baker, nor candlestick maker, was +daring enough to risk Rhoda's tongue raging like a prairie fire over +their shortcomings. Several landladies, knowing Rhoda's value, had tried +to entice her from Mrs. Bensusan by offers of higher wages and better +quarters, but the girl refused to leave her stout mistress, and so +continued quite a fixture of the lodgings. Even in the city, Rhoda had +been spoken of by clerks who had lived in Jersey Street, and so had more +than a local reputation for originality. + +This celebrated handmaid was as lean as her mistress was stout. Her hair +was magnificent in quality and quantity, but, alas! was of the unpopular +tint called red; not auburn, or copper hued, or the famous Titian color, +but a blazing, fiery red, which made it look like a comic wig. Her face +was pale and freckled, her eyes black--in strange contrast to her hair, +and her mouth large, but garnished with an excellent set of white teeth. + +Rhoda was not neat in her attire, perhaps not having arrived at the age +of coquetry, for she wore a dingy grey dress much too short for her, a +pair of carpet slippers which had been left by a departed lodger, and +usually went about with her sleeves tucked up, and a resolute look on +her sharp face. Such was the appearance of Mrs. Bensusan's devil, who +entered to forbid her mistress confiding in Lucian. + +"Oh, Rhoda!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "You bad gal! I believe as you've +'ad your ear to the keyhole." + +"I 'ave!" retorted Rhoda defiantly. "It's been there for five minutes, +and good it is for you, mum, as I ain't above listening. What do you +mean, sir," she cried, turning on Lucian like a fierce sparrow, "by +coming 'ere to frighten two lone females, and her as innocent as a +spring chicken?" + +"Oh!" said Lucian, looking at her composedly, "so you are the celebrated +Rhoda? I've heard of you." + +"Not much good, then, sir, if Miss Greeb was talking," rejoined the +red-haired girl, with a sniff. "Oh, I know her." + +"Rhoda! Rhoda!" bleated her mistress, "do 'old your tongue! I tell you +this gentleman's a police." + +"He ain't!" said the undaunted Rhoda. "He's in the law. Oh, I knows +him!' + +"Ain't the law the police, you foolish gal?" + +"Of course it--" began Rhoda, when Lucian, who thought that she had +displayed quite sufficient eccentricity, cut her short with a quick +gesture. + +"See here, my girl," he said sharply, "you must not behave in this +fashion. I have reason to believe that the assassin of Mr. Vrain entered +the house through the premises of your mistress." + +"Lawks, what a 'orrible idear!" shrieked Mrs. Bensusan. "Good 'eavens, +Rhoda, did you see the murdering villain?" + +"Me? No! I never sawr nothing, mum," replied Rhoda doggedly. + +Lucian, watching the girl's face, and the uneasy expression in her eyes, +felt convinced she was not telling the truth. It was no use forcing her +to speak, as he saw very plainly that Rhoda was one of those obstinate +people whom severity only hardened. Much more could be done with her by +kindness, and Denzil adopted this--to him--more congenial course. + +"If Rhoda is bound by any promise, Mrs. Bensusan, I do not wish her to +speak," he said indifferently, "but in the interests of justice I am +sure you will not refuse to answer my questions." + +"Lord, sir! I know nothing!" whimpered the terrified landlady. + +"Will you answer a few questions?" asked Denzil persuasively. + +Mrs. Bensusan glanced in a scared manner at Rhoda, who, meanwhile, had +been standing in a sullen and hesitating attitude. When she thought +herself unobserved, she stole swift glances at the visitor, trying +evidently to read his character by observation of his face and manner. +It would seem that her scrutiny was favourable, for before Mrs. Bensusan +could answer Lucian's question she asked him one herself. + +"What do you want to know, sir?" + +"I want to know all about Mr. Wrent." + +"Why?" + +"Because I fancy he has something to do with this crime." + +"Lord!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "'Ave I waited on a murderer?" + +"I don't say he is a murderer, Mrs. Bensusan, but he knows something +likely to put us on the track of the criminal." + +"What makes ye take up the case?" demanded Rhoda sharply. + +"Because I know that Mr. Wrent came to board in this house shortly after +Mr. Vrain occupied No. 13," replied Denzil. + +"Who says he did?" + +"Miss Greeb, my landlady, and she also told me that he left here two +days after the murder." + +"That's as true as true!" cried Mrs. Bensusan, "ain't it, Rhoda? We lost +him 'cause he said he couldn't abide living near a house where a crime +had been committed." + +"Well, then," continued Lucian, seeing that Rhoda, without speaking, +continued to watch him, "the coincidence of Mr. Wrent's stay with that +of Mr. Vrain's strikes me as peculiar." + +"You are a sharp one, you are!" said Rhoda, with an approving nod. "Look +here, Mr. Denzil, would you break a promise?" + +"That depends upon what the promise was." + +"It was one I made to hold my tongue." + +"About what?" + +"Several things," said the girl shortly. + +"Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian eagerly. + +"I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda; then suddenly her face grew +black. "I tell you what, sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared. + +"Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After the lovely cloak he gave you!" + +The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at her mistress; then, without +a word, darted out of the room. Before Lucian could conjecture the +reason of her strange conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could get her breath +again--a very difficult operation for her--Rhoda was back with a blue +cloth cloak, lined with rabbit skins, hanging over her arm. This she +threw down at the feet of Lucian, and stamped on it savagely with the +carpet slippers. + +"There's his present!" she cried angrily, "but I wish I could dance on +him the same way! I wish--I wish I could hang him!" + +"Can you?" demanded Lucian swiftly, taking her in the moment of wrath, +when she seemed disposed to speak. + +"No!" said Rhoda shortly. "I can't!" + +"Do you think he killed Mr. Vrain?" + +"No, I don't!" + +"Do you know who did?" + +"Blest if I do!" + +"Does Mr. Wrent?" asked Denzil meaningly. + +The girl wet her finger and went through a childish game. "That's wet," +she said; then wiping the finger on her dingy skirt, "that's dry. Cut my +throat if I tell a lie. Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil." + +"I don't understand you," said Lucian, quite puzzled. + +"Rhoda! Rhoda! 'Ave you gone crazy?" wailed Mrs. Bensusan. + +"Look here," said the girl, taking no notice of her mistress, "do you +want to know about Mr. Wrent?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"And about that side passage as you talked of to the missis?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I'll answer yer questions, sir. You'll know all I know." + +"Very good," said Lucian, with an approving smile, "now you are talking +like a sensible girl." + +"Rhoda! You ain't going to talk bad of Mr. Wrent?" + +"It ain't bad, and it ain't good," replied Rhoda. "It's betwixt and +between." + +"Well, I must 'ear all. I don't want the character of the 'ouse took +away," said Mrs. Bensusan, with an attempt at firmness. + +"That's all right," rejoined Rhoda reassuringly, "you can jine in +yerself when y' like. Fire away, Mr. Denzil." + +"Who is Mr. Wrent?" asked Lucian, going straight to the point. + +"I don't know," replied Rhoda; and henceforth the examination proceeded +as though the girl were in the witness-box and Lucian counsel for the +prosecution. + +Q. When did he come to Jersey Street? + +A. At the end of July, last year. + +Q. When did he go away? + +A. The morning after Boxing Day. + +Q. Can you describe his appearance? + +A. He was of the middle height, with a fresh complexion, white hair, and +a white beard growing all over his face. He was untidy about his +clothes, and kept a good deal to his own room among a lot of books. I +don't think he was quite right in his head. + +Q. Did he pay his rent regularly? + +A. Yes, except when he was away. He would go away for a week at a time. + +Q. Was he in this house on Christmas Eve? + +A. Yes, sir. He came back two days before Christmas. + +Q. Where had he been? + +A. I don't know; he did not say. + +Q. Did he have any visitors? + +A. He did. A tall, dark man and a lady. + +Q. What was the lady like? + +A. A little woman; I never saw her face, as she always kept her veil +down. + +Q. What kind of a veil did she wear? + +A. A black gauze veil with velvet spots. + +Q. Did she come often to see Mr. Wrent? + +A. Yes. Four or five times. + +Q. When did she call last? + +A. On Christmas Eve. + +Q. At what hour? + +A. She came at seven, and went away at eight. I know that because she +had supper with Mr. Wrent. + +Q. Did she leave the house? + +A. Yes. I let her out myself. + +Q. Did you ever hear any conversation between them? + +A. No. Mr. Wrent took care of that. I never got any chance of listening +at keyholes with him. He was a sharp one, for all his craziness. + +Q. What was the male visitor like? + +A. He was tall and dark, with a black moustache. + +Q. Do you think he was a foreigner? + +A. I don't know. I never heard him speak. Mr. Wrent let him out, as +usual. + +Q. When did he visit Mr. Wrent last? + +A. On Christmas Eve. He came with the lady. + +Q. Did he stay to supper also? + +A. No. He went away at half-past seven. Mr. Wrent let him out, as usual. + +Q. Did he go away altogether? + +A. I--I--I am not sure! (here the witness hesitated). + +Q. Why did Mr. Wrent give you the cloak? + +A. To make me hold my tongue about the dark man. + +Q. Why? + +A. Because I saw him in the back yard. + +Q. On what night? + +A. On the night of Christmas Eve, about half-past eight. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MRS. VRAIN AT BAY + + +"You saw the dark man in the back yard on Christmas Eve?" repeated +Lucian, much surprised by this discovery. + +"Yes, I did," replied Rhoda decisively, "at half-past eight o'clock. I +went out into the yard to put some empty bottles into the shed, and I +saw the man standing near the fence, looking at the back of No. 13. When +he heard me coming out he rushed past me and out by the side passage. +The moon was shining, and I saw him as plain as plain." + +"Did he seem afraid?" + +"Yes, he did; and didn't want to be seen, neither. I told Mr. Wrent, and +he promised me a cloak if I held my tongue. He said the dark man was +waiting in the yard until the lady had gone, when he was coming in +again." + +"But the lady, you say, went at eight, and you saw the man half an hour +later?" + +"That's it, sir. He told me a lie, for he never came in again to see Mr. +Wrent." + +"But already the dark man had seen the lady?" + +"Yes. He came in with her at seven, and went away at half-past." + +Lucian mechanically stooped down and picked up the fur cloak. He was +puzzled by the information given by Rhoda, and did not exactly see what +use to make of it. Going by the complexion of the man who had lurked in +the back yard, it would appear that he was Count Ferruci; while the +small stature of the woman, and the fact that she wore a velvet-spotted +veil, indicated that she was Lydia Vrain; also the pair had been in the +vicinity of the haunted house on the night of the murder; and, although +it was true both were out of the place by half-past eight, yet they +might not have gone far, but had probably returned later--when Rhoda and +Mrs. Bensusan were asleep--to murder Vrain, between the hours of eleven +and twelve on the same night. + +This was all plain enough, but Lucian was puzzled by the account of Mr. +Wrent. Who, he asked himself repeatedly, who was this grey-haired, +white-bearded man who had so often received Lydia, who had on Christmas +Eve silenced Rhoda regarding Ferruci's presence in the yard, by means of +the cloak, and who--it would seem--possessed the key to the whole +mystery? + +Rhoda could tell no more but that he had stayed six months with Mrs. +Bensusan, and had departed two days after the murder; whereby it would +seem that his task having been completed, he had no reason to remain +longer in so dangerous a neighbourhood. Yet four months had elapsed +since his departure, and Denzil, after some reflection, asked Mrs. +Bensusan a question or two regarding this interval. + +"Has Mr. Wrent returned here since his departure?" he demanded. + +"Lawks! no, sir!" wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, shaking her head. "I've never +set eyes on him since he went. 'Ave you, Rhoda?" Whereat the girl shook +her head also, and watched Lucian with an intensity of gaze which +somewhat discomposed him. + +"Did he owe you any money when he went, Mrs. Bensusan?" + +"No, sir. He paid up like a gentleman. I always thought well of Mr. +Wrent." + +"Rhoda doesn't seem to share your sentiments," said Denzil drily. + +"No, I don't!" cried the servant, frowning. "I hated Mr. Wrent!" + +"Why did you hate him?" + +"Never you mind, sir," retorted Rhoda grimly. "I hated him." + +"Yet he bought you this cloak." + +"No, he didn't!" contradicted the girl. "He got it from the lady!" + +"What!" cried Lucian sharply. "Are you sure of that?" + +"I can't exactly swear to it," replied Rhoda, hesitating, "but it was +this way: The lady wore a cloak like that, and I admired it awful. She +had it on when she came, Christmas Eve, and she didn't wear it when I +let her out, and the next day Mr. Wrent gave it to me. So I suppose it +is the same cloak." + +"And did the lady go out into the cold winter weather without the +cloak?" + +"Yes; but she had a long cloth jacket on, sir, so I don't s'pose she +missed it." + +"Was the lady agitated when she went out?" + +"I don't know. She held her tongue and kept her veil down." + +"Can you tell me anything more?" asked Lucian, anxious to make the +examination as exhaustive as possible. + +"No, Mr. Denzil," answered Rhoda, after some thought, "I can't, except +that Mr. Wrent, long before Christmas, promised me a present, and gave +me the cloak then." + +"Will you let me take this cloak away with me?" + +"If you like," replied Rhoda carelessly. "I don't want it.' + +"Oh, Rhoda!" wailed Mrs. Bensusan. "Your lovely, lovely rabbit skin!" + +"I'll bring it back again," said Lucian hastily. "I only want to use it +as evidence." + +"Ye want to know who the lady is?" said Rhoda sharply. + +"Yes, I do. Can you tell me?" + +"No; but you'll find out from that cloak. I guess why you're taking it." + +"You are very sharp, Rhoda," said Lucian, rising, with a good-humoured +smile, "and well deserve your local reputation. If I find Mr. Wrent, I +may require you to identify him; and Mrs. Bensusan also." + +"I'll be able to do that, but missus hasn't her eyes much." + +"Hasn't her eyes?" repeated Denzil, with a glance at Mrs. Bensusan's +staring orbs. + +"Lawks, sir, I'm shortsighted, though I never lets on. Rhoda, 'ow can +you 'ave let on to the gentleman as I'm deficient? As to knowing Mr. +Wrent, I'd do so well enough," said Mrs. Bensusan, tossing her head, +"with his long white beard and white 'ead, let alone his black velvet +skull-cap." + +"Oh, he wore a skull-cap?" + +"Only indoors," said Rhoda sharply, "but here I'm 'olding the door wide, +sir, so if you've done, we're done." + +"I'm done, as you call it, for the present," replied Denzil, putting on +his hat, "but I may come again. In the meantime, hold your tongues. +Silence on this occasion will be gold; speech won't even be silver." + +Mrs. Bensusan laughed at this speech in a fat and comfortable sort of +way, while Rhoda grinned, and escorted Lucian to the front door. She +looked so uncanny, with her red hair and black eyes, that the barrister +could not forbear a question. + +"Are you English, my girl?" + +"No, I ain't!" retorted Rhoda emphatically. "I'm of the gentle Romany." + +"A gipsy!" + +"So you Gorgios call us!" replied the girl, and shut the door with what +seemed to be unnecessary violence. Lucian went off with the cloak over +his arm, somewhat discomposed by this last piece of information. + +"A gipsy!" he repeated. "Humph! Can good come out of Nazareth? I don't +trust that girl much. If I knew why she hates Wrent, I'd be much more +satisfied with her information. And who the deuce is Wrent?" + +Lucian had occasion to ask himself this question many times before he +found its answer, and that was not until afterwards. At the present +moment he dismissed it from his mind as unprofitable. He was too busy +reflecting on the evidence obtained in Jersey Street to waste time in +conjecturing further events. On returning to his lodgings he sat down to +consider what was best to be done. + +After much reflection and internal argument, he decided to call upon +Mrs. Vrain, and by producing the cloak, force her into confessing her +share of the crime. Whether she had been the principal in the deed, or +an accessory before the fact, Lucian could not determine; but he was +confident that in one way or another she was cognizant of the truth; +although this she would probably conceal, as its revelation would likely +be detrimental to her own safety. + +At first Denzil intended to see Diana before visiting Mrs. Vrain, in +order to relate all he had learned, and find out from her if the cloak +really belonged to the widow. But on second thoughts he decided not to +do so. + +"I can tell her nothing absolutely certain about the matter," he said to +himself, "as I cannot be sure of anything until I force Mrs. Vrain to +confess. Diana," so he called her in his discourse to himself, "Diana +will probably know nothing about the ownership of the cloak, as it seems +new, and was probably purchased by Lydia during the absence of Diana in +Australia. No, I have the address of Mrs. Vrain, which Diana gave me. It +will be best to call on her, and by displaying the cloak make her +acknowledge her guilt. + +"With such evidence she cannot deny that she visited Wrent; and was in +the vicinity of the house wherein her husband was murdered on the very +night the crime was committed. Also she must state Ferruci's reason for +hiding in the back yard, and tell me plainly who Wrent is, and why he +helped the pair of them in their devilish plans. I am doubtful if she +will speak; but altogether the evidence I have collected inculpates her +so strongly that it will be quite sufficient grounds upon which to +obtain a warrant for her arrest. And sooner than risk that, I expect she +will tell as much as she can to exculpate herself--that is, if she is +really innocent. If she is guilty," Lucian shrugged his shoulders, "then +I cannot guess what course she will take." + +Mrs. Vrain, with her father to protect her, had established herself in a +small but luxurious house in Mayfair, and was preparing to enjoy +herself during the coming season. Although her husband had met with a +terrible death scarcely six months before, she had already cast off her +heavy mourning, and wore only such millinery indications of sorrow as +suited with her widowed existence. + +Ferruci was a constant visitor at the house; but although Lydia was now +free, and wealthy, she by no means seemed ready to marry the Italian. +Perhaps she thought, with her looks and riches, she might gain an +English title, as more valuable than a Continental one; and in this view +she was supported by her father. Clyne had no other desire than to see +his beloved Lydia happy, and would willingly have sacrificed everything +in his power to gain such an end; but as he did not like Ferruci +himself, and saw that Lydia's affections towards him had cooled greatly, +he did not encourage the idea of a match between them. + +However, these matters were yet in abeyance, as Lydia was too diplomatic +to break off with so subtle a man as the Count, who might prove a +dangerous enemy were his love turned to hate, and Mr. Clyne was quite +willing to remain on friendly terms with the man so long as Lydia chose +that such friendship should exist. In short, Lydia ruled her simple +father with a rod of iron, and coaxed Ferruci--a more difficult man to +deal with--into good humour; so she managed both of them skilfully in +every way, and contrived to keep things smooth, pending her plunge into +London society. For all her childish looks, Lydia was uncommonly +clever. + +When Lucian's card was brought in, Mrs. Vrain proved to be at home, and +as his good looks had made a deep impression on her, she received him at +once. He was shown into a luxuriously furnished drawing-room without +delay, and welcomed by pretty Mrs. Vrain herself, who came forward with +a bright smile and outstretched hands, looking more charming than ever. + +"Well, I do call this real sweet of you," said she gaily. "I guess it is +about time you showed up. But you don't look well, that's a fact. What's +wrong?" + +"I'm worried a little," replied Lucian, confounded by her coolness. + +"That's no use, Mr. Denzil. You should never be worried. I guess I don't +let anything put me out." + +"Not even your husband's death?" + +"That's rude!" said Lydia sharply, the colour leaving her cheek. "What +do you mean? Have you come to be nasty?" + +"I came to return you this," said Denzil, throwing the cloak which he +had carried on his arm before the widow. + +"This?" echoed Mrs. Vrain, looking at it. "Well, what's this old thing +got to do with me?" + +"It's yours; you left it in Jersey Street!" + +"Did I? And where's Jersey Street?" + +"You know well enough," said Lucian sternly. "It is near the place +where your husband was murdered." + +Mrs. Vrain turned white. "Do you dare to say----" she began, when Denzil +cut her short with a hint at her former discomposure. + +"The stiletto, Mrs. Vrain! Don't forget the stiletto!" + +"Oh, God!" cried Lydia, trembling violently. "What do you know of the +stiletto?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A DENIAL + + +"What do you know of the stiletto?" repeated Mrs. Vrain anxiously. + +She had risen to her feet, and, with an effort to be calm, was holding +on to the near chair. Her bright colour had faded to a dull white hue, +and her eyes had a look of horror in their depths which transformed her +from her childish beauty into a much older and more haggard woman than +she really was. It seemed as though Lucian, by some necromantic spell, +had robbed her of youth, vitality, and careless happiness. To him this +extraordinary agitation was a proof of her guilt; and hardening his +heart so as not to spare her one iota of her penalty--a mercy she did +not deserve--he addressed her sternly: + +"I know that a stiletto purchased in Florence by your late husband hung +on the library wall of Berwin Manor. I know that it is gone!" + +"Yes! yes!" said Lydia, moistening her white, dry lips, "it is gone; but +I do not know who took it." + +"The person who killed your husband." + +"I feared as much," she muttered, sitting down again. "Do you know the +name of the person?" + +"As well as you do yourself. The name is Lydia Vrain!" + +"I!" She threw herself back on the chair with a look of profound +astonishment on her colourless face. "Mr. Denzil," she stammered, +"is--is this--is this a jest?" + +"You will not find it so, Mrs. Vrain." + +The little woman clutched the arms of her chair and leaned forward with +her face no longer pale, but red with rage and indignation. "If you are +a gentleman, Mr. Denzil, I guess you won't keep me hanging on like this. +Let us get level. Do you say I killed Mark?" + +"Yes, I do!" said Lucian defiantly. "I am sure of it." + +"On what grounds?" asked Mrs. Vrain, holding her temper back with a +visible effort, that made her eyes glitter and her breath short. + +"On the grounds that he was killed with that stiletto and----" + +"Go slow! How do you know he was killed with that stiletto?" + +"Because the ribbon which attached it to the wall was found in the +Geneva Square house, where your husband was killed. Miss Vrain +recognised it." + +"Miss Vrain--Diana! Is she in England?" + +"Not only in England, but in London." + +"Then why hasn't she been to see me?" + +Denzil did not like to answer this question, the more so as Lydia's +sudden divergence from the point of discourse rather disconcerted him. +It is impossible to maintain dignity in making a serious accusation when +the person against whom it is made thinks so little of it as to turn +aside to discuss a point of etiquette in connection with another woman. + +Seeing that her accuser was silent and confused, Lydia recovered her +tongue and colour, and the equability of her temper. It was, therefore, +with some raillery that she continued her speech: + +"I see how it is," she said contemptuously, "Diana has called you into +her councils in order to fix this absurd charge on to me. Afraid to come +herself, she sends you as the braver person of the partnership. I +congratulate you on your errand, Mr. Denzil." + +"You can laugh as much as you like, Mrs. Vrain, but the matter is more +serious than you suppose." + +"Oh, I am sure that my loving stepdaughter will make it as serious as +possible. She always hated me." + +"Pardon me, Mrs. Vrain," said Lucian, colouring with annoyance, "but I +did not come here to hear you speak ill of Miss Vrain." + +"I know that! She sent you here to speak ill _of_ me and do ill _to_ me. +Well, so you and she accuse me of killing Mark? I shall be glad to hear +the evidence you can bring forward. If you can make your charge good I +should smile. Oh, I guess so!" + +Denzil noticed that when Mrs. Vrain became excited she usually spoke +plain English, without the U. S. A. accent, but on growing calmer, and, as +it were, recollecting herself, she adopted the Yankee twang and their +curious style of expression and ejaculation. This led him to suspect +that the fair Lydia was not a born daughter of the Great Republic, +perhaps not even a naturalised citizeness, but had assumed such +nationality as one attractive to society in Europe and Great Britain. + +He wondered what her past really was, and if she and her father were the +doubtful adventurers Diana believed them to be. If so, it might happen +that Lydia would extricate herself out of her present unpleasant +position by the use of past experience. To give her no chance of such +dodging, Lucian rapidly detailed the evidence against her so that she +would be hard put to baffle it. But in this estimate he quite underrated +Lydia's nerve and capability of fence, let alone the dexterity with +which she produced a satisfactory reply to each of his questions. + +"We will begin at the beginning, Mrs. Vrain," he said soberly, "say from +the time you drove your unfortunate husband out of his own house." + +"Now, I guess that wasn't my fault," explained Lydia. "I wasn't in love +with old man Mark, but I liked him well enough, for he was a real +gentleman; and when that make-mischief Diana, who cocked her nose at me, +set out for Australia, we got on surprisingly well. Count Ferruci came +over to stay, as much at Mark's invitation as mine, and I didn't pay +too much attention to him anyhow." + +"Miss Tyler says you did!" + +"Sakes!" cried Mrs. Vrain, raising her eyebrows, "have you been talking +to that old stump? Well, just you look here, Mr. Denzil! It was Bella +Tyler who made all the mischief. She thought Ercole was sweet on her, +and when she found out he wasn't, she got real mad, and went to tell +Mark that I was making things hum the wrong way with the Count. Of +course Mark had a row with him, and, of course, I got riz--not having +done anything to lie low for. We had a row royal, I guess, and the end +of it was that Mark cleared out. I thought he would turn up again, or +apply for a divorce, though he hadn't any reason to. But he did neither, +and remained away for a whole year. While he was away I got quit of +Ercole pretty smart, I can tell you, as I wanted to shut up that old +maid's mouth. I never knew where Mark was, or guessed what became of +him, until I saw that advertisement, and putting two and two together to +make four, I called to see Mr. Link, where I found you running the +circus." + +"Why did you faint on the mention of the stiletto?" + +"I told you the reason, and Link also." + +"Yes, but your reason was too weak to----" + +"Oh, well, you're right enough there," interrupted Lydia, smiling. "All +that talk of nerves and grief wasn't true. I didn't give my real reason, +but I will now. When I heard that the old man had been stabbed by a +stiletto I remembered that the one on the library wall had vanished some +time before the Christmas Eve on which Mark was killed. So you may guess +I was afraid." + +"For yourself?" + +"I guess not; it wasn't any of my funeral. I didn't take the stiletto, +nor did I know who had; but I was afraid you might think Ferruci took +it. The stiletto was Italian, and the Count is Italian, so it struck me +you might put two and two together and suspect Ercole. I never thought +you'd fix on me," concluded Lydia, with a scornful toss of her head. + +"As a matter of fact, I fixed on you both," said Lucian composedly. + +"And for what reason? Why should I and the Count murder poor Mark, if +you please? He was a fool and a bore, but I wished him no harm. I was +sorry as any one when I heard of his death, and I offered a good reward +for the catching of the mean skunk that killed him. If I had done so +myself I wouldn't have been such a fool as to sharpen the scent of the +hounds on my own trail." + +"You were in town on Christmas Eve?" said Denzil, not choosing to +explain the motives he believed the pair had for committing the crime. + +"I was. What of that?" + +"You were in Jersey Street, Pimlico, on that night." + +"I was never in Pimlico in my life!" declared Lydia wrathfully, "and, +as I said before, I don't know where Jersey Street is." + +"Do you know a man called Wrent?" + +"I never heard of him!" + +"Yet you visited him in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve, between seven +and eight o'clock." + +"Did I, really?" cried Mrs. Vrain, ironically, "and how can you prove I +did?" + +"By that cloak," said Lucian, pointing to where it lay on a chair. "You +wore that cloak and a velvet-spotted veil." + +"I haven't worn a veil of that kind for over a year," said Lydia +decisively, "though I admit I used to wear veils of that sort. You can +ask my maid if I have any velvet-spotted veils in my wardrobe just now. +As to the cloak--I never wear rabbit skins." + +"You might as a disguise." + +"Sakes alive, man, what should I want with a disguise? I tell you the +cloak isn't mine. You can soon prove that. Find out who made it, and go +and ask in the shop if I bought it." + +"How can I find out who made it?" asked Denzil, who was beginning to +feel that Lydia was one too many for him. + +"Here! I'll show you!" said Lydia, and picking up the cloak she turned +over the tab at the neck, by which it was hung up. At the back of this +there was a small piece of tape with printed black letters. "Baxter & +Co., General Drapers, Bayswater," she read out, throwing down the cloak +contemptuously. "I don't go to a London suburb for my frocks; I get +them in Paris." + +"Then you are sure this cloak isn't yours?" asked Lucian, much +perplexed. + +"No! I tell you it isn't! Go and ask Baxter & Co. if I bought it. I'll +go with you, if you like; or better still," cried Mrs. Vrain, jumping up +briskly, "I can take you to see some friends with whom I stayed on +Christmas Eve. The whole lot will tell you that I was with them at +Camden Hill all the night." + +"What! Can you prove an alibi?" + +"I don't know what you call it," retorted Lydia coolly, "but I can prove +pretty slick that I wasn't in Pimlico." + +"But--Mrs. Vrain--your friend--Ferruci was there!" + +"Was he? Well, I don't know. I never saw him that time he was in town. +But if you think he killed Mark you are wrong. I do not believe Ercole +would kill a fly, for all he's an Italian." + +"Do you think he took that stiletto?" + +"No, I don't!" + +"Then who did?" + +"I don't know. I don't even know when it was taken. I missed it after +Christmas, because that old schoolma'am told me it was gone." + +"Old schoolma'am!" + +"Well, Bella Tyler, if you like that better," retorted Mrs. Vrain. +"Come, now, Mr. Denzil, I'm not going to let you go away without proving +my--what do you call it?--alibi. Come with me right along to Camden +Hill." + +"I'll come just to satisfy myself," said Lucian, picking up the cloak, +"but I am beginning to feel that it is unnecessary." + +"You think I am innocent? Well," drawled Lydia, as Lucian nodded, "I +think that's real sweet of you. I mayn't be a saint, but I'm not quite +the sinner that Diana of yours makes me out." + +"Diana of mine, Mrs. Vrain?" said Lucian, colouring. + +The little woman laughed at his blush. + +"Oh, I'm not a fool, young man. I see how the wind blows!" And with a +nod she vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK? + + +Mrs. Vrain sacrificed the vanity of a lengthy toilette to a natural +anxiety to set herself right with Lucian, and appeared shortly in a +ravishing costume fresh from Paris. Perhaps by arraying herself so +smartly she wished to assure Denzil more particularly that she was a +lady of too much taste to buy rabbit-skin cloaks in Bayswater: or +perhaps--which was more probable--she was not averse to ensnaring so +handsome a young man into an innocent flirtation. + +The suspicion she entertained of Lucian's love for Diana only made Lydia +the more eager to fascinate him on her own account. A conceit of +herself, a hatred of her stepdaughter, and a desire to wring admiration +out of a man who did not wish to bestow it. These were the reasons which +led Mrs. Vrain to be particularly agreeable to the barrister. When the +pair were ensconced in a swift hansom, and rolling rapidly towards +Camden Hill, she began at once to prosecute her amiable designs. + +"I guess you'll not mind being my best boy for the day," she said, with +a coquettish glance. "You can escort me, first of all, to the Pegalls, +and afterwards we can drive to Baxter & Co.'s in Bayswater, so that you +can assure yourself I didn't buy that cloak." + +"I am much obliged for the trouble you are taking, Mrs. Vrain," replied +the young man, avoiding with some reserve the insinuating glances of his +pretty companion. "We shall do as you suggest. Who are the Pegalls, may +I ask?" + +"My friends, with whom I stopped on Christmas Eve," rejoined Mrs. Vrain. +"A real good, old, dull English family, as heavy as their own plum +puddings. Mrs. Pegall's a widow like myself, and I daresay she buys her +frocks in the Bayswater stores. She has two daughters who look like +barmaids, and ought to be, only they ain't smart enough. We had a real +Sunday at home on Christmas Eve, Mr. Denzil. Whist and weak tea at +eight, negus and prayers and bed at ten. Poppa wanted to teach them +poker, and they kicked like mad at the very idea; but that was when he +visited them before, I guess." + +"Not the kind of family likely to suit you, I should think," said +Lucian, regarding the little free-lance with a puzzled air. + +"I guess not. Lead's a feather to them for weight. But it's a good thing +to have respectable friends, especially in this slow coach of an old +country, where you size everybody up by the company they keep." + +"Ah!" said Lucian pointedly and--it must be confessed--rather rudely, +"so you have found the necessity of having respectable friends, however +dull?" + +"That's a fact," acknowledged Mrs. Vrain candidly. "I've had a queer +sort of life with poppa--ups and downs, and flyings over the moon, I +guess." + +"You are not American?" said Denzil suddenly. + +"Sakes! How do you figure that out?" + +"Because you are too pronouncedly Amurrican to be American." + +"That's an epigram with some truth in it," replied Lydia coolly. "Oh, +I'm as much a U. S. A. article as anything else. We hung out our shingle +in Wyoming, Wis., for a considerable time, and a girl who tickets +herself Yankee this side flies high. But I guess I'm not going to give +you my history," concluded Mrs. Vrain drily. "I'm not a Popey nor you a +confessor." + +"H'm! You've been in the South Seas, I see." + +"There's no telling. How do you know?" + +"The natives there use the word Popey to designate a Roman Catholic." + +"You are as smart as they make 'em, Mr. Denzil. There's no flies about +you; but I'm not going to give myself away. Ask poppa, if you want +information. He's that simple he'll tell you all." + +"Well, Mrs. Vrain, keep your own secret; it is not the one I wish to +discover. By the way, you say your father was at Camden Hill on +Christmas Eve?" + +"I didn't say so, but he was," answered Lydia quietly. "He was not very +well--pop can't stand these English winters--and wrote me to come up. +But he was so sick that he left the Pegalls' about six o'clock." + +"That was the letter which upset you." + +"It was. I see old Bella Tyler kept her eyes peeled. I got the letter +and came up at once. I've only got one parent left, and he's too good to +be shoved away in a box underground while fools live. But here we are at +the Pegalls'. I hope you'll like the kind of circus they run. +Campmeetings are nothing to it." + +The dwelling of the respectable family alluded to was a tolerably sized +house of red brick, placed in a painfully neat garden, and shut in from +the high road by a tall and jealous fence of green-painted wood. The +stout widow and two stout spinster daughters, who made up the inmates, +quite deserved Mrs. Vrain's epithet of "heavy." They were aggressively +healthy, with red cheeks, black hair, and staring black eyes devoid of +expression; a trio of Dutch dolls would have looked more intellectual. +They were plainly and comfortably dressed; the drawing-room was plainly +and comfortably furnished; and both house and inmates looked thoroughly +respectable and eminently dull. What such a hawk as Mrs. Vrain was doing +in this Philistine dove-cote, Lucian could not conjecture; but he +admired her tact in making friends with a family whose heavy gentility +assisted to ballast her somewhat light reputation; while the three of +their brains in unison could not comprehend her tricks, or the reasons +for which they were played. + +"At all events, these three women are too honest to speak anything but +the truth," thought Lucian while undergoing the ordeal of being +presented. "So I'll learn for certain if Mrs. Vrain was really here on +Christmas Eve." + +The Misses Pegall and their lace-capped mamma welcomed Lucian with heavy +good nature and much simpering, for they also had an eye to a comely +young man; but the cunning Lydia they kissed and embraced, and called +"dear" with much zeal. Mrs. Vrain, on her part, darted from one to the +other like a bird, pecking the red apples of their cheeks, and cast an +arch glance at Lucian to see if he admired her talent for manoeuvering. +Then cake and wine, port and sherry, were produced in the style of early +Victorian hospitality, from which epoch Mrs. Pegall dated, and all went +merry as a marriage bell, while Lydia laid her plans to have herself +exculpated in Lucian's eyes without being inculpated in those of the +family. + +"We have just come up from our place in Somerset," explained Mrs. +Pegall, in a comfortable voice. "The girls wanted to see the sights, so +I just said, 'we'll go, dears, and perhaps we'll get a glimpse of the +dear Queen.' I'm sure she has no more loyal subjects than we three." + +"Are you going out much this year, dear Mrs. Vrain?" asked Beatrice +Pegall, the elder and plainer of the sisters. + +"No, dear," replied Lydia, with a sigh, putting a dainty handkerchief +to her eyes. "You know what I have lost." + +The two groaned, and Miss Cecilia Pegall, who was by way of being very +religious in a Low Church way, remarked that "all flesh was grass," to +which observation her excellent mamma rejoined: "Very true, dear, very +true." And then the trio sighed again, and shook their black heads like +so many mandarins. + +"I should never support my grief," continued Lydia, still tearful, "if +it was not that I have at least three dear friends. Ah! I shall never +forget that happy Christmas Eve!" + +"Last Christmas Eve, dear Mrs. Vrain?" said Cecilia. + +"When you were all so kind and good," sobbed Lydia, with a glance at +Lucian, to see that he noticed the confirmation. "We played whist, +didn't we?" + +"Four rubbers," groaned Mrs. Pegall, "and retired to bed at ten o'clock, +after prayers and a short hymn. Quite a carol that hymn was, eh, dears?" + +"And your poor pa was so bad with his cough," said Beatrice, "I hope it +is better. He went away before dinner, too! Do say your pa is better!" + +"Yes, dear, much better," said Lydia, and considering it was four months +since Christmas Eve, Lucian thought it was time Mr. Clyne recovered. + +"He enjoyed his tea, though," said Cecilia. "Mr. Clyne always says there +is no tea like ours." + +"And no evenings," cried Lydia, who was very glad there were not. +"Poppa and I are coming soon to have a long evening--to play whist +again." + +"But, dear Mrs. Vrain, you are not going?" + +"I must, dears," with a kiss all round. "I have such a lot to do, and +Mr. Denzil is coming with me, as poppa wants to consult him about some +law business. He's a barrister, you know." + +"I hope Mr. Denzil will come and see us again," said Mrs. Pegall, +shaking hands with Lucian. A fat, puffy hand she had, and damp. + +"Oh, delighted! delighted!" said Denzil hurriedly. + +"Cards and tea, and sensible conversation," said Beatrice seriously, "no +more." + +"You forget prayers at ten, dear," rejoined Cecilia in low tones. + +"We are a plain family, Mr. Denzil. You must take us as we are." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Pegall, I will." + +"Good-bye, dears," cried Lydia again, and with a final peck all round +she skipped out and into the hansom, followed by her escort. + +"Damn!" said Mrs. Vrain, when the cab drove away in the direction of +Bayswater. "Oh, don't look so shocked, Mr. Denzil. I assure you I am not +in the habit of swearing, but the extreme respectability of the Pegalls +always makes me wish to relieve my feelings by going to the other +extreme. What do you think of them?" + +"They seem very good people, and genuine." + +"And very genteel and dull," retorted Lydia. "Like Washington, they +can't tell a lie for a red cent; so you can believe I was there with +poppa on Christmas Eve, only he went away, and I stayed all night." + +"Yes, I believe it, Mrs. Vrain." + +"Then I couldn't have been in Jersey Street or Geneva Square, sticking +Mark with the stiletto?" + +"No! I believe you to be innocent," said Lucian gravely. "In fact, I +really don't think it is necessary to find out about this cloak at +Baxter & Co.'s. I am assured you did not buy it." + +"I guess I didn't, Mr. Denzil; but you want to know who did, and so do +I. Well, you need not open your eyes. I'd like to know who killed Mark, +also; and you say that cloak will show it?" + +"I didn't say that; but the cloak may identify the woman I wrongfully +took for you. She may have to do with the matter." + +Lydia shook her pretty head. "Not she. Mark was as respectable as the +Pegall gang; there's no woman mixed up in this matter." + +"But I saw the shadow of a woman on the blind of No. 13!" + +"You don't say! In Mark's sitting-room? Well, I should smile to know he +was human, after all. He was always so precious stiff!" + +Something in Mrs. Vrain's light talk of her dead husband jarred on the +feelings of Lucian, and in some displeasure he held his peace. In no +wise abashed, Lydia feigned to take no notice of this tacit reproof, +but chatted on about all and everything in the most frivolous manner. +Not until they had entered the shop of Baxter & Co. did she resume +attention to business. + +"Here," she said to the smiling shopwalker, "I want to know by whom this +cloak was sold, and to what person." + +The man examined the cloak, and noted a private mark on it, which +evidently afforded him some information not obtainable by the general +public, for he guided Lucian and his companion to a counter behind which +stood a brisk woman with sharp eyes. In her turn she also examined the +cloak, and departed to refresh her memory by looking at some account +book. When she returned it was to intimate that the cloak had been +bought by a man. + +"A man!" repeated Lucian, much astonished. "What was he like?" + +"A dark man," replied the brisk shopwoman, "dark hair, dark eyes, and a +dark moustache. I remember him well, because he was a foreigner." + +"A foreigner?" repeated Lydia in her turn. "A Frenchman?" + +"No, madam--an Italian. He told me as much." + +"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Vrain. "You are right, Mr. Denzil. It's +Ferruci sure enough!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI + + +"It is quite impossible!" cried Mrs. Vrain distractedly. "I can't +believe it nohow!" + +The little woman was back again in her own drawing-room, talking to +Lucian about the discovery which had lately been made regarding +Ferruci's purchase of the cloak. Mrs. Vrain having proved her own +innocence by the evidence of the Pegall family, was now trying to +persuade both herself and Denzil that the Count could not be possibly +implicated in the matter. He had no motive to kill Vrain, she said, a +statement with which Lucian at once disagreed. + +"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vrain, he had two motives," said the barrister +quickly. "In the first place, he was in love, and wished to marry you; +in the second, he was poor, and wanted money. By the death of your +husband he hoped to gain both." + +"He has gained neither, as yet," replied Lydia sharply. "I like Ercole +well enough, and at one time I was almost engaged to him. But he has a +nasty temper of his own, Mr. Denzil, so I shunted him pretty smart to +marry Mark Vrain. I wouldn't marry him now if he dumped down a million +dollars at my feet to-morrow. Besides, poppa don't like him at all. I've +got my money, and I've got my freedom, and I don't fool away either the +one or the other on that Italian dude!" + +"Is the Count acquainted with these sentiments?" asked Lucian drily. + +"I guess so, Mr. Denzil. He asked me to marry him two months after +Mark's death, and I just up and told him pretty plain how the cat +jumped." + +"In plain English, you refused him?" + +"You bet I did!" cried Lydia vigorously. "So you see, Mr. Denzil, he +could not have killed Mark." + +"Why not? He did not know your true mind until two months after the +murder." + +"That's a fact, anyhow," commented Mrs. Vrain. "But what the mischief +made him buy that rabbit-skin cloak?" + +"I expect he bought it for the woman I mistook for you." + +"And who may she be?" + +"That is just what I wish to find out. This woman who came to Jersey +Street so often wore this cloak; therefore, she must have obtained it +from the Count. I'll make him tell me who she is, and what she has to do +with this crime." + +"Do you think she has anything to do with it?" said Mrs. Vrain +doubtfully. + +"I am certain. It must have been her shadow I saw on the blind." + +"And the man's shadow was the Count's?" questioned Lydia. + +"I think so. He bought the cloak for the woman, visited the man Wrent at +Jersey Street, and was seen by the servant in the back yard. He did not +act thus without some object, Mrs. Vrain, you may be sure of that." + +"Sakes!" said Lydia, with a weary sigh. "I ain't sure of anything save +that my head is buzzing like a sawmill. Who is Wrent, anyhow?" + +"I don't know. An old man with white beard and a skull-cap of black +velvet." + +"Ugh!" said Mrs. Vrain, with a shiver. "Mark used to wear a black +skull-cap, and the thought of it makes me freeze up. Sounds like a judge +of your courts ordering a man to be lynched. Well, Mr. Denzil, it seems +to me as you'd best hustle Ercole. If he knows who the woman is--and he +wouldn't buy cloaks for her if he didn't--he'll know who this Wrent is. +I guess he can supply all information." + +"Where does he live?" + +"Number 40, Marquis Street, St. James's. You go and look him up, while I +tell poppa what a mean white he is. I guess poppa won't let him come +near me again. Pop's an honest man, though he ain't no Washington." + +"Suppose I find out that he killed your husband?" asked Lucian, rising. + +"Then you'd best lynch him right away," replied Lydia without +hesitation. "I draw the line at murder--some!" + +The barrister was somewhat disgusted to hear Mrs. Vrain so coolly devote +her whilom admirer to a shameful death. However, he knew that her heart +was hard and her nature selfish; so there was little use in showing any +outward displeasure at her want of charity. She had cleared herself from +suspicion, and evidently cared not who suffered, so long as she was safe +and well spoken of. Moreover, Lucian had learned all he wished about her +movements on the night of the crime, and taking a hasty leave, he went +off to Marquis Street for the purpose of bringing Ferruci to book for +his share in the terrible business. However, the Count proved to be from +home, and would not be back, so the servant said, until late that night. + +Denzil therefore left a message that he would call at noon the next day, +and drove from St. James's to Kensington, where he visited Diana. Here +he detailed what he had learned and done from the time he had visited +Mrs. Bensusan up to the interview with Lydia. Also he displayed the +cloak, and narrated how Mrs. Vrain had cleared herself of its purchase. + +To all this Diana listened with the greatest interest, and when Lucian +ended she looked at him for some moments in silence. In fact, Diana, +with all her wit and common sense, did not know how to regard the +present position of affairs. + +"Well, Miss Vrain," said Lucian, seeing that she did not speak, "what +do you think of it all?" + +"Mrs. Vrain appears to be innocent," said Diana in a low voice. + +"Assuredly she is! The evidence of the Pegall family--given in all +innocence--proves that she could not have been in Geneva Square or in +Jersey Street on Christmas Eve." + +"Then we come back to my original belief, Mr. Denzil. Lydia did not +commit the crime herself, but employed Ferruci to do so." + +"No," replied Denzil decidedly. "Whether the Italian is guilty or not, +Mrs. Vrain knows nothing about it. If she were cognisant of his guilt +she would not have risked going with me to Baxter & Co., and letting me +discover that Ferruci had bought the cloak. Nor would she so lightly +surrender a possible accomplice as she has done Ferruci. Whatever can be +said of Mrs. Vrain's conduct--and I admit that it is far from +perfect--yet I must say that she appears, by the strongest evidence, to +be totally innocent and ignorant. She knows no more about the matter +than her father does." + +"Well," said Diana, unwilling to grant her stepmother too much grace, +"we must give her the benefit of the doubt. What about Ferruci?" + +"So far as I can see, Ferruci is guilty," replied Lucian. "To clear +himself he will have to give the same proof as Mrs. Vrain. Firstly, he +will have to show that he was not in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve; +secondly, he will have to prove that he did not buy the cloak. But in +the face of the servant's evidence, and the statement of the shopwoman, +he will find it difficult to clear himself. Yet," added Lucian, +remembering his failure with Lydia, "it is always possible that he may +do so." + +"It seems to me, Mr. Denzil, that your only chance of getting at the +truth is to see the Italian." + +"I think so myself. I will see him to-morrow." + +"Will you take Mr. Link with you?" + +"No, Miss Vrain. As I have found out so much without Link, I may as well +proceed in the matter until his professional services are required to +arrest Count Ferruci. By the way, I have never seen that gentleman. Can +you describe his appearance to me?" + +"Oh, as far as looks go there is no fault to be found with him," +answered Diana. "He is a typical Italian, tall, slender, and olive +complexioned. He speaks English very well, indeed, and appears to be +possessed of considerable education. Certainly, to look at him, and to +speak with him, you would not think he was a villain likely to murder a +defenceless old man. But if he did not kill my poor father, I know not +who did." + +"I'll call on him to-morrow at noon," said Lucian, "and later on I shall +come here to tell you what has passed between us." + +This remark brought the business between them to a close, but Lucian +would fain have lingered to engage Diana in lighter conversation. Miss +Vrain, however, was too much disturbed by the news he had brought her +to indulge in frivolous talk. Her mind, busied with recollections of her +deceased father, and anxiously seeking some means whereby to avenge his +death, was ill attuned to encourage at the moment the aspirations which +she knew Lucian entertained. + +The barrister, therefore, sighed and hinted in vain. His Dulcinea would +have none of him or his courting, and he was compelled to retire, as +disconsolate a lover as could be seen. To slightly alter the saying of +Shakespeare, "the course of true love never does run smooth," but there +were surely an unusual number of obstacles in the current of Denzil's +desires. But as he consoled himself with reflecting that the greater the +prize the harder it is to win, so it behooved him to do his devoir like +a true knight. + +The next day, at noon, Lucian, armed for the encounter with the evidence +of Rhoda and of the cloak, presented himself at the rooms which Count +Ferruci temporarily inhabited in Marquis Street. He not only found the +Italian ready to receive him, but in full possession of the adventure of +the cloak, which, as he admitted, he had learned from Lydia the previous +evening. Also, Count Ferruci was extremely indignant, and informed +Lucian that he was easily able to clear himself of the suspicion. While +he raged on in his fiery Italian way, Denzil, who saw no chance of +staying the torrent of words, examined him at his leisure. + +Ercole Ferruci was, as Diana had said, a singularly handsome man of +thirty-five. He was dark, slender, and tall, with dark, flashing eyes, a +heavy black moustache, and an alert military look about him which showed +that he had served in the army. The above description savours a trifle +of the impossible hero of a young lady's dream; and, as a matter of +fact, Ferruci was not unlike that ideal personage. He had all the looks +and graces which women admire, and seemed honest and fiery enough in a +manly way--the last person, as Lucian thought, to gain his aims by +underhand ways, or to kill a helpless old man. But Lucian, legally +experienced in human frailty, was not to be put off with voluble +conversation and outward graces. He wished for proofs of innocence, and +these he tried to obtain as soon as Ferruci drew breath in his fiery +harangue. + +"If you are innocent, Count," said Lucian, in reply to the fluent, +incorrect English of the Italian, "appearances are against you. However, +you can prove yourself innocent, if you will." + +"Sir!" cried Ferruci, "is not my word good?" + +"Not good enough for an English court," replied Lucian coldly. "You say +you were not in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve. Who can prove that?" + +"My friend--my dear friend, Dr. Jorce of Hampstead, sir. I was with him; +oh, yes, sir, he will tell you so." + +"Very good! I hope his evidence will clear you," replied the more +phlegmatic Englishman. "And this cloak?" + +"I never bought the cloak! I saw it not before!" + +"Then come with me to the shop in Bayswater, and hear what the girl who +sold it says." + +"I will come at once!" cried Ferruci hastily, catching up his cane and +hat. "Come, then, my friend! Come! What does the woman say?" + +"That she sold the cloak to a tall man--to a dark man with a moustache, +and one who told her he was Italian." + +"Bah!" retorted the Count, as they hailed a hansom. "Is all that she can +say? Why, all we Italians are supposed to be tall and dark, and wear +moustaches. Your common people in England never fancy one of us can be +fair." + +"You are not fair," replied Lucian drily, "and your looks correspond to +the description." + +"True! Oh, yes, sir! But that description might describe a dozen of my +countrymen. And, Mr. Denzil," added the Count, laughing, "I do not go +round about saying to common people that I am an Italian. It is not my +custom to explain." + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and said no more until they entered the +shop in Bayswater. As he knew from the previous visit where the +saleswoman was located, he led the Count rapidly to the place. The girl +was there, as brisk and businesslike as ever. She looked up as they +approached, and came forward to serve them, with a swift glance at both. + +"I am sorry to trouble you again," said Lucian ceremoniously, "but you +told me yesterday that you sold a blue cloak, lined with rabbit skin, +to an Italian gentleman, and--" + +"And am I the gentleman?" interrupted Ferruci. "Did I buy a cloak?" + +"No," replied the shopwoman, after a sharp glance. "This is not the +gentleman who bought the cloak." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A NEW DEVELOPMENT + + +"You see, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci, turning triumphantly to Lucian, "I +did not buy this cloak; I am not the Italian this lady speaks of." + +Lucian was extremely astonished at this unexpected testimony in favour +of the Count, and questioned the shopwoman sharply. "Are you certain of +what you say?" he asked, looking at her intently. + +"Yes, I am, sir," replied the girl stiffly, as though she did not like +her word doubted. "The gentleman who bought the cloak was not so tall as +this one, nor did he speak English well. I had great difficulty in +learning what he wanted." + +"But you said that he was dark, with a moustache--and--" + +"I said all that, sir; but this is not the gentleman." + +"Could you swear to it?" said Lucian, more chagrined than he liked to +show to the victorious Ferruci. + +"If it is necessary, I could, sir," said the shopwoman, with the +greatest confidence. And after so direct a reply, and such certain +evidence, Denzil had nothing to do but retire from an awkward position +as gracefully as he could. + +"And now, sir," said Ferruci, who had followed him out of the shop, "you +come with me, please." + +"Where to?" asked Lucian gloomily. + +"To my friend--to my rooms. I have shown I did not buy the cloak you +speak of. Now we must find my friend, Dr. Jorce, to tell you I was not +at Jersey Street when you say." + +"Is Dr. Jorce at your rooms?" + +"I asked him to call about this time," said Ferruci, glancing at his +watch. "When Mrs. Vrain speak to me of what you say I wish to defend +myself, so I write last night to my friend to talk with you this day. I +get his telegram saying he would come at two hours." + +Lucian glanced in his turn at his watch. "Half-past one," he said, +beckoning to a cab. "Very good, Count, we will just have time to get +back to your place." + +"And what you think now?" said Ferruci, with a malicious twinkle in his +eyes. + +"I do not know what to think," replied Lucian dismally, "save that it is +a strange coincidence that _another_ Italian should have bought the +cloak." + +The Count shrugged his shoulders as they got into the hansom, but he did +not speak until they were well on their way back to Marquis Street. He +then looked thoughtfully at his companion. "I do not believe +coincidence," he said abruptly, "but in design." + +"What do you mean, Count? I do not quite follow you." + +"Some one who knows I love Mrs. Vrain wish to injure me," said the +Italian rapidly, "and so make theirself like me to buy that cloak. Ah! +you see? But he could not make himself as tall as me. Oh, yes, sir, I am +sure it is so." + +"Do you know any one who would disguise himself so as to implicate you +in the murder?" + +"No." Ferruci shook his head. "I cannot think of one man--not one." + +"Do you know a man called Wrent?" asked Lucian abruptly. + +"I do not, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci at once. "Why do you ask?" + +"Well, I thought he might be the man to disguise himself. But no," added +Lucian, remembering Rhoda's account of Wrent's white hair and beard, "it +cannot be him. He would not sacrifice his beard to carry out the plan; +in fact he could not without attracting Rhoda's attention." + +"Rhoda! Wrent! What strange names you talk of!" cried Ferruci +vivaciously. + +"No stranger than that of your friend Jorce." + +Ferruci laughed. "Oh, he is altogether most strange. You see." + +It was as the Italian said. Dr. Jorce--who was waiting for them in the +Count's room--proved to be a small, dried-up atom of a man, who looked +as though all the colour had been bleached out of him. At first sight he +was more like a monkey than a man, owing to his slight, queer figure +and agile movements; but a closer examination revealed that he had a +clever face, and a pair of most remarkable eyes. These were of a +steel-grey hue, with an extraordinary intensity of gaze; and when he +fixed them on Lucian at the moment of introduction the young barrister +felt as though he were being mesmerised. + +For the rest, Jorce was dressed sombrely in black cloth, was extremely +voluble and vivacious, and impressed Lucian with the idea that he was +less a fellow mortal than a changeling from fairyland. Quite an +exceptional man was Dr. Jorce, and, as the Italian said, "most strange." + +"My good friend," said Ferruci, laying his stern hand on the shoulder of +this oddity, "this gentleman wishes you to decide a--what do you +say?--bet?" + +"A bet!" cried the little doctor in a deep bass voice, but with some +indignation. "Do I understand, Count, that you have brought me all the +way from my place in Hampstead to decide a bet?" + +"Ah, but sir, it is a bet most important," said Ferruci, with a smile. +"This Mr. Denzil declares that he saw me in Pim--Pim--what?" + +"In Pimlico," said Lucian, seeing that Ferruci could not pronounce the +word. "I say that the Count was in Pimlico on Christmas Eve." + +"You are wrong, sir," said Jorce, with a wave of his skinny hand. "My +friend, Count Ferruci, was in my house at Hampstead on that evening." + +"Was he?" remarked Lucian, astonished at this confident assertion. "And +at what time did he leave?" + +"He did not leave till next morning. My friend the Count remained under +my roof all night, and left at twelve o'clock on Christmas morning." + +"So you see," said Ferruci airily to Lucian, "that I could not have done +what you think, as that was done--by what you said--between eleven and +twelve on that night." + +"Was the Count with you at ten o'clock on that evening?" asked Denzil. + +"Certainly he was; so you have lost your bet, Mr. Denzil. Sorry to bring +you such bad fortune, but truth is truth, you know." + +"Would you repeat this statement, if I wished?" + +"Why not? Call on me at any time. 'The Haven, Hampstead'; that will +always find me." + +"Ah, but I do not think it will be necessary for Mr. Denzil to call on +you, sir," interposed the Count rapidly. "You can always come to me. +Well, Mr. Denzil, are you satisfied?" + +"I am," replied Lucian. "I have lost my bet, Count, and I apologise. +Good-day, Dr. Jorce, and thank you. Count Ferruci, I wish you good-bye." + +"Not even _au revoir_?" said Ferruci mockingly. + +"That depends upon the future," replied Lucian coolly, and forthwith +went away in low spirits at the downfall of his hopes. Far from +revealing the mystery of Vrain's death, his late attempts to solve it +had resulted in utter failure. Lydia had cleared herself; Ferruci had +proved himself innocent; and Lucian could not make up his mind what was +now to be done. + +In this dilemma he sought out Diana, as, knowing from experience that +where a man's logic ends a woman's instinct begins, he thought she might +suggest some way out of the difficulty. On arriving at the Royal John +Hotel he found that Diana was waiting for him with great impatience; and +hardly giving herself time to greet him, she asked how he had fared in +his interview with Count Ferruci. + +"Has that man been arrested, Mr. Denzil?" + +"No, Miss Vrain. I regret to say that he has not been arrested. To speak +plainly, he has, so far as I can see, proved himself innocent." + +"Innocent! And the evidence against him?" + +"Is utterly useless. I brought him face to face with the woman who sold +the cloak, and she denies that Ferruci bought it." + +"But she said the buyer was an Italian." + +"She did, and dark, with a moustache. All the same, she did not +recognise the Count. She says the buyer was not so tall, and spoke worse +English." + +"Ferruci could make his English bad if he liked." + +"Probably; but he could not make his stature shorter. No, Miss Vrain, I +am afraid that our Italian friend, in spite of the evidence against him, +did not buy the cloak. That he resembles the purchaser in looks and +nationality is either a coincidence or----" + +"Or what?" seeing that Lucian hesitated. + +"Or design," finished the barrister. "And, indeed, the Count himself is +of this opinion. He believes that some one who wished to get him into +trouble personated him." + +"Has he any suspicions as to whom the person may be?" + +"He says not, and I believe him; for if he did suspect any particular +individual he certainly would gain nothing by concealment of the fact." + +"H'm!" said Diana thoughtfully, "so that denial of the saleswoman +disposes of the cloak's evidence. What about the Count's presence in +Jersey Street on Christmas Eve?" + +"He was not there!" + +"But Rhoda, the servant, saw him both in the house and in the back +yard!" + +"She saw a dark man, with a moustache, but she could not say that he was +a foreigner. She does not know Ferruci, remember. The man she saw must +have been the same as the purchaser of the cloak." + +"Where does Ferruci say he was?" + +"At Hampstead, visiting a friend." + +"Oh! And what does the friend say?" + +"He declares that the Count was with him on Christmas Eve and stayed all +night." + +"That is very convenient evidence for the Count, Mr. Denzil. Who is this +accommodating friend?" + +"A doctor called Jorce." + +"Can his word be trusted?" + +"So far as I can judge from his looks and a short acquaintance, I should +say so." + +"It was half-past eight when the servant saw the dark man run out of +the yard?" + +"Yes!" + +"And at half-past eight Ferruci was at Hampstead in the house of Dr. +Jorce?" + +"Not that I know of," said Lucian, remembering that he had asked Jorce +the question rather generally than particularly, "but the doctor +declared that Ferruci was with him at ten o'clock on that evening, and +did not leave him until next morning; so as your father was killed +between eleven and twelve, Ferruci must be innocent." + +"It would seem so, if this doctor is to be believed," muttered Diana +reflectively, "but judging by what you have told me, there is nothing to +show that Ferruci was _not_ in Pimlico at eight-thirty, and was _not_ +the man whom the servant saw." + +"Well, certainly he could get from Pimlico to Hampstead in an hour and a +half. However, the main point about all this evidence is, that neither +Ferruci nor Lydia Vrain killed your father." + +"No! no! that seems clear. Still! still! they know about it. Oh, I am +sure of it. It must have been Ferruci who was in Pimlico on that night. +If so, he knows who Wrent is, and why he stayed in Jersey Street." + +"Perhaps, although he denies ever hearing the name of Wrent. But I would +not be surprised if the man who could solve the mystery is----" + +"Who?--who?" + +"Doctor Jorce himself. I feel sure of it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TWO MONTHS PASS + + +Unwilling to give up prosecuting the Vrain case while the slightest hope +remained of solving its mystery, Lucian sought out Link, the detective, +and detailed all the evidence he had collected since the constituted +authorities had abandoned the matter. Although Mrs. Vrain and Ferruci +had exculpated themselves entirely, Denzil thought that Link, with his +professional distrust and trained sense of ferreting out secrets, might +discern better than himself whether such exculpations were warranted by +circumstances. + +Link heard all that Denzil had to tell him with outward indifference and +inward surprise; for while unwilling, through jealousy of an amateur, to +flatter the barrister by a visible compliment, yet he silently admitted +that Denzil had made his discoveries and profited by them with much +acuteness. What annoyed him, however, was that the young man had pushed +his inquiries to the uttermost limit; and that there was no chance of +any glory accruing to himself by prosecuting them further. Still, on the +possibility that something might come of it, he went over the ground +already traversed by the amateur detective. + +"You should have told me of your intentions when Miss Vrain spoke to you +in the first instance," he said to Lucian by way of rebuke. "As it is, +you have confused the clues so much that I do not know which one to +take." + +"It seems to me that I have pursued each clue until fate or circumstance +clipped it short," retorted Lucian, nettled by this injustice. "Mrs. +Vrain has defended herself successfully, much in the same way as Count +Ferruci has done. Your only chance of getting at the truth lies in +discovering Wrent; and unless Rhoda helps you there, I do not see how +you can trace the man." + +"I am of a different opinion," said Link, lying freely to conceal his +doubts of success in the matter. "As you have failed through lack of +experience, I shall attempt to unravel this skein." + +"You attempted to do so before, and gave it up because of the tangle," +said Lucian with quiet irony. "And unless you discover more than I have +done, you will dismiss the matter again as impossible. So far as I can +see, the mystery of Vrain's death is more of a mystery than ever, and +will never be solved." + +"I'll make one last attempt to unriddle it, however," answered Link, +with a confidence he was far from feeling, "but, of course--not being +one of your impossible detectives of fiction--I may fail." + +"You are certain to fail," said Lucian decisively, and with this +disheartening prophecy he left Link to his task of--apparently--spinning +ropes of sand. + +Whether it was that Link was so doubtful of the result as to extend +little energy in the search, or whether he really found the task +impossible of accomplishment, it is difficult to say, but assuredly he +failed as completely as Lucian predicted. With outward zeal he set to +work; interviewed Lydia and the Italian, to make certain that their +defence was genuine; examined the Pegall family, who were dreadfully +alarmed by their respectability being intruded upon by a common +detective, and obtained a fresh denial from Baxter & Co.'s saleswoman +that Ferruci was the purchaser of the cloak. Also he cross-questioned +Mrs. Bensusan and her sharp handmaid in the most exhaustive manner, and +did his best to trace out the mysterious Wrent who had so much to do +with the matter. He even called on Dr. Jorce at Hampstead, to satisfy +himself as to the actual time of Ferruci's arrival in that neighbourhood +on Christmas Eve. But here he received a check, for Jorce had gone +abroad on his annual holiday, and was not expected back for a month. + +In fact, Link did all that a man could do to arrive at the truth, only +to find himself, at the end of his labours, in the same position as +Lucian had been. Disgusted at this result, he threw up his brief, and +called upon Diana and Denzil, with whom he had previously made an +appointment, to notify them of his inability to bring the matter to a +satisfactory conclusion. + +"There is not the slightest chance of finding the assassin of Mr. +Vrain," said Link, after he had set forth at length his late failures. +"The more I go into the matter the more I see it." + +"Yet you were so confident of doing more than I," said Lucian quietly. + +Link turned sulkily, after the fashion of a bad loser. + +"I did my best," he retorted gloomily. "No man can do more. Some crimes +are beyond the power of the law to punish for sheer lack of proof. This +is one of them; and, so far as I can see, this unknown assassin will be +punished on Judgment Day--not before." + +"Then you don't think that Signor Ferruci is guilty?" said Diana. + +"No. He has had nothing to do with the matter; nor has Mrs. Vrain +brought about the death in any way." + +"You cannot say who killed my father?" + +"Not for certain, but I suspect Wrent." + +"Then why not find Wrent?" asked Diana bluntly. + +"He has hidden his trail too well," began Link, "and--and----" + +"And if you did find him," finished Denzil coolly, "he might prove +himself guiltless, after the fashion of Mrs. Vrain and Ferruci." + +"He might, sir; there is no knowing. But since you think I have done so +little, Mr. Denzil, let me ask you who it is you suspect?" + +"Dr. Jorce of Hampstead." + +"Pooh! pooh!" cried Link, with contempt. "He didn't kill the man--how +could he, seeing he was at Hampstead on that Christmas Eve midnight, as +I found out from his servants?" + +"I don't suspect him of actually striking the blow," replied Lucian, +"but I believe he knows who did." + +"Not he! Dr. Jorce has too responsible a position to mix himself up in a +crime from which he gains no benefit." + +"Why! what position does he hold?" + +"He is the owner of a private lunatic asylum. Is it likely that a man +like him would commit a murder?" + +"Again I deny that he did commit the crime; but I am certain, from the +very fact of his friendship with Ferruci, that he knows more than he +chooses to tell. Why should the Italian be intimate with the owner of a +private asylum--with a man so much beneath him in rank?" + +"I don't know, sir. But if you suspect Dr. Jorce you had better see him +when he comes back from his holidays--in a month." + +"Where is he now?" + +"In Italy, and the Count has gone with him." + +Diana and Lucian looked at one another, and the former spoke: "That is +strange," she said. "I agree with Mr. Denzil, it is peculiar, to say the +least of it, that an Italian noble should make a bosom friend of a man +so far inferior to him in position. Don't you think so yourself, Mr. +Link?" + +"Madam," said Link gravely, "I think nothing about it, save that you +will never find out the truth. I have tried my best, and failed; and I +am confident enough in my own power to say that where I have failed no +one else will succeed. Miss Vrain, Mr. Denzil, I wish you good-day." + +And with this bragging speech, which revealed the hurt vanity of the +man, Mr. Link took his departure. Lucian held his peace, for in the face +of this desertion of a powerful ally he did not know what to say. Diana +walked to the sitting-room window and watched Link disappear into the +crowd of passers-by. At that she heaved a sigh, for with him--she +thought--went every chance of learning the truth, since if he, an +experienced person in such matters, turned back from the quest, there +could assuredly be no help in any one not professional, and with less +trained abilities. + +Then she turned to Lucian. + +"There is nothing more to be done, I suppose," said she, sighing again. + +"I am afraid not," replied Lucian dismally, for he was quite of her +opinion regarding the desertion of the detective. + +"Then I must leave this unknown assassin to the punishment of God!" said +Diana quietly. "And I can only thank you for all you have done for me, +Mr. Denzil, and say"--she hesitated and blushed, then added, with some +emphasis--"say _au revoir_." + +"Ah!" ejaculated Denzil, with an indrawn breath of relief, "I am glad +you did not say good-bye." + +"I don't wish to say it, Mr. Denzil. I have not so many friends in the +world that I can afford to lose so good a one as yourself." + +"I am content," said Lucian softly, "that you should think of me as your +friend--for the present." + +His meaning was so unmistakable that Diana, still blushing, and somewhat +confused, hastened to prevent his saying more at so awkward a moment. +"Then as my friend I hope you will come and see me at Berwin Manor." + +"I shall be delighted. When do you go down?" + +"Within a fortnight. I must remain that time in town to see my lawyer +about the estate left by my poor father." + +"And see Mrs. Vrain?" + +"No," replied Diana coldly. "Now that my father is dead, Mrs. Vrain is +nothing to me. Indirectly, I look upon her as the cause of his death, +for if she had not driven both of us out of our own home, my father +might have been alive still. I shall not call on Mrs. Vrain, and I do +not think she will dare to call on me." + +"I'm not so sure of that," rejoined Lucian, who was well acquainted with +the lengths to which Mrs. Vrain's audacity would carry her; "but let us +dismiss her, with all your other troubles. May I call on you again +before you leave town?" + +"Occasionally," replied Diana, smiling and blushing; "and you will come +down to Berwin Manor when I send you an invitation?" + +"I should think so," said Denzil, in high glee, as he rose to depart; +"and now I will say----" + +"Good-bye?" said Miss Vrain, holding out her hand. + +"No. I will use your own form of farewell--_au revoir_." + +Then Lucian went out from the presence of his beloved, exulting that she +had proved so kind as not to dismiss him when she no longer required his +services. In another woman he would not have minded such ingratitude, +but had Diana banished him thus he would have been miserable beyond +words. Also, as Lucian joyfully reflected, her invitation to Berwin +Manor showed that, far from wishing to lose sight of him, she desired to +draw him into yet closer intimacy. There could be nothing but good +resulting from her invitation and his acceptance, and already Denzil +looked forward to some bright summer's day in the green and leafy +country, when he should ask this goddess among women to be his wife. If +encouragement and looks and blushes went for anything, he hardly doubted +the happy result. + +In the meantime, while Lucian dreamed his dreams, Diana, also dreaming +in her own way, remained in town and attended to business. She saw her +lawyers, and had her affairs looked into, so that when she went to Bath +she was legally installed as the mistress of Berwin Manor and its +surrounding acres. As Lucian hinted, Lydia did indeed try to see her +stepdaughter. She called twice, and was refused admission into Diana's +presence. She wrote three times, and received no reply to her letters; +so the consequence was that, finding Diana declined to have anything to +do with her in any way whatsoever, she became very bitter. This feeling +she expressed to Lucian, whom she one day met in Piccadilly. + +"As if I had done anything," finished Lydia, after a recital of all her +grievances. "I call it real mean. Don't you think so, Mr. Denzil?" + +"If you ask me, Mrs. Vrain," said Lucian stiffly, "I think you and Miss +Vrain are better apart." + +"Of course you defend her. But I guess I can't blame you, as I know what +you are driving at." + +"What about Signor Ferruci?" asked Denzil, parrying. + +"Oh, we are good friends still, but nothing more. As he proved that he +did not kill Mark, I've no reason to give him his walking-ticket. But," +added Mrs. Vrain drily, "I guess you'll be married to Diana before I +hitch up 'longside Ercole." + +"How do you know I shall marry Miss Vrain?" asked Lucian, flushing. + +"If you saw your face in a glass, you wouldn't ask, I guess. Tomatoes +ain't in it for redness. I won't dance at your wedding, and I won't +break my heart, either," and with a gay nod Mrs. Lydia Vrain tripped +away, evidently quite forgetful of the late tragedy in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +AT BERWIN MANOR + + +The heritage of Diana lay some miles from Bath, in a pleasant wooded +valley, through which meandered a placid and slow-flowing stream. On +either side of this water stretched broad meadow lands, flat and +fertile, as well they might be, seeing they were of rich black loam, and +well drained, withal. To the right these meadows were bounded by forest +lands, the trees of which grew thickly up and over the ridge, and on the +space where wood met fields was placed the manor, a quaint square +building of Georgian architecture, and some two centuries old. + +Against the green of the trees its warm walls of red brick and sloping +roof of bluish slate made a pleasant spot of colour. There stretched a +terrace before it; beneath the terrace a flower garden and orchard; and +below these the meadow lands, white with snow in winter, black in +spring, with ridgy furrows, and golden with grain in the hot days of +summer. Altogether a lovely and peaceful spot, where a man could pass +pleasant days in rural quiet, a hermitage of rest for the life-worn and +heart-weary. + +Here, towards the end of summer, came Lucian, to rest his brain after +the turmoil of London, and to court his mistress under the most +favourable circumstances. Diana had established herself in her ancestral +home with a superannuated governess as a chaperon, for without such a +guardianship she could hardly have invited the barrister to visit her. +Miss Priscilla Barbar was a placid, silver-haired old dame, who, having +taught Diana for many years, had returned, now that the American Mrs. +Vrain had departed, to spend the rest of her days under the roof of her +dear pupil. + +She took a great fancy to Lucian, which was just as well, seeing what +was the object of his visit, and complacently watched the growing +attachment between the handsome young couple, who seemed so suited to +one another. But her duties as chaperon were nominal, for when not +pottering about the garden she was knitting in a snug corner, and when +knitting failed to interest her she slumbered quietly, in defiance of +the etiquette which should have compelled her to make a third in the +conversation of her young friends. + +As for Lucian and his charming hostess, they found that they had so many +tastes in common, and enjoyed each other's society so much, that they +were hardly ever apart. Diana saw with the keen eyes of a woman that +Lucian was in love with her, and let it be seen in a marvellously short +space of time, and without much difficulty, that she was in love with +him. + +But even after Lucian had been at the manor a fortnight, and daily in +the society of Diana, he spoke no word of love. Seeing how beautiful she +was, and how dowered with lands and rents and horses, he began to ask +himself whether it was not rather a presumption on his part to ask her +to share his life. He had only three hundred a year--six pounds a +week--and a profession in which, as yet, he had not succeeded; so he +could offer her very little in exchange for her beauty, wealth, and +position. + +The poor lover became quite pale with fruitless longing, and his spirits +fell so low that good Miss Priscilla one day drew him aside to ask about +his health. + +"For," said she, "if you are ill in body, Mr. Denzil, I know of some +remedies--old woman's medicines you will call them, no doubt--which, +with the blessing of God, may do you good." + +"Thank you, Miss Barbar, but I am not ill in body--worse luck!" and +Lucian sighed. + +"Why worse luck, Mr. Denzil?" said the old lady severely. "That is an +ungrateful speech to Providence." + +"I would rather be ill in body than ill in mind," explained Denzil, +blushing, for in some ways he was younger than his years. + +"And are you ill in mind?" asked Miss Priscilla, with a twinkle in her +eyes. + +"Alas! yes. Can you cure me?" + +"No. For that cure I shall hand you over to Diana." + +"Miss Priscilla!" And Lucian coloured again, this time with vexation. + +"Oh, Mr. Denzil," laughed the governess, "because I am old you must not +imagine that I am blind. I see that you love Diana." + +"Better than my life!" cried the devoted lover with much fervour. + +"Of course! That is the usual romantic answer to make. Well, why do you +not tell Diana so, with any pretty additions your fancy suggests?" + +"She might not listen to me," said this doubting lover dolefully. + +"Very true," replied his consoler. "On the other hand, she might. +Besides, Mr. Denzil, however much the world may have altered since my +youth, I have yet to learn that it is the lady's part to propose to the +gentleman." + +"But, Miss Barbar, I am poor!" + +"What of that? Diana is rich." + +"Don't I know it? For that very reason I hesitate to ask her." + +"Because you are afraid of being called a fortune-hunter, I suppose," +said the old lady drily. "That shows a lack of moral courage which is +not worthy of you, Mr. Denzil. Take an old woman's advice, young man, +and put your fortunes to the test. Remember Montrose's advice in the +song." + +"You approve of my marrying Diana--I mean Miss Vrain?" + +"From what I have seen of you, and from what Diana has told me about +you, I could wish her no better husband. Poor girl! After the tragical +death of her father, and her wretched life with that American woman, she +deserves a happy future." + +"And do you think--do you really think that she--that she--would be +happy with--with me?" stammered Lucian, hardly daring to believe Miss +Priscilla, whose acquaintance with him seemed too recent to warrant such +trust. + +The wise old woman laughed and nodded. + +"Ask her yourself, my dear," she said, patting his hand. "She will be +able to answer that question better than I. Besides, girls like to say +'yea' or 'nay,' themselves." + +This seemed to be good advice, and certainly none could have been more +grateful to the timid lover. That very night he made up his mind to risk +his fortunes by speaking to Diana. It was no easy matter for the young +man to bring himself to do so, for cool, bold, and fluent as he was on +ordinary occasions, the fever of love rendered him shy and nervous. The +looks of Diana acted on his spirits as the weather does on a barometer. +A smile made him jocund and hilarious, a frown abashed him almost to +gloom. And in the April weather of her presence he was as variable as a +weather-cock. It is, therefore, little to be wondered at that one +ordinarily daring should tremble to ask a question which might be +answered in the negative. True, Miss Barbar's partisanship heartened him +a trifle, but he still feared for the result. Cupid, as well as +conscience, makes cowards of us all--and Lucian was a doubting lover. + +Towards the end of his stay Miss Priscilla--as usual--fell asleep one +evening after dinner, and Diana, feeling the house too warm, stepped out +into the garden, followed by Lucian. The sun had just set behind the +undulating hills, and the clear sky, to the zenith, was of a pale rose +colour, striped towards the western horizon with lines of golden cloud. +In the east a cold blue prevailed, and here and there a star sparkled in +the arch of the sky. + +The garden was filled with floating shadows, which seemed to glide into +it from the dark recesses of the near woods, and in a copse some +distance away a nightingale was singing to his mate, and filling the +silence with melody. The notes fluted sweetly through the still air, +mingling with the sigh of the rising wind and the musical splashing of +the fountain. This shot up a pillar of silvery water to a great height, +and in descending sprinkled the near flower beds with its cold spray. +All was inexpressibly beautiful to the eye and soothing to the ear--a +scene and an hour for love. It might have been the garden of the +Capulets, and those who moved in it--the immortal lovers, as yet +uncursed by Fate. + +"Only three more days," sighed Lucian as he walked slowly down the path +beside Diana, "and then that noisy London again." + +"Perhaps it is as well," said Diana, in her practical way. "You would +rust here. But is there any need for you to go back so soon?" + +"I must--for my own peace of mind." + +Diana started and blushed at the meaning of his tone and words. + +Then she recovered her serenity and sat down on an old stone seat, near +which stood a weather-beaten statue of Venus. Seeing that she kept +silent in spite of his broad hint, Lucian--to bring matters to a +crisis--resolved to approach the subject in a mythological way through +the image of the goddess. + +"I am sorry I am not a Greek, Miss Vrain," he said abruptly. + +"Why?" asked Diana, secretly astonished by the irrelevancy of the +remark. + +Lucian plucked a red rose from the bush which grew near the statue and +placed it on the pedestal. + +"Because I would lay my offering at the feet of the goddess, and touch +her knees to demand a boon." + +"What boon would you ask?" said Diana in a low voice. + +"I would beseech that in return for my rose of flowers she would give me +the rose of womanhood." + +"A modest request. Do you think it would be granted?" + +"Do you?" asked Lucian, picking up the rose again. + +"How can I reply to your parables, or read your dark sayings?" said +Diana, half in earnest, half in mirth. + +"I can speak plainer if you permit it." + +"If--if you like!" + +The young man laid the rose on Diana's lap. "Then in return for my rose +give me--yourself!" + +"Mr. Denzil!" cried Diana, starting up, whereby the flower fell to the +ground. "You--you surprise me!" + +"Indeed, I surprise myself," said Lucian sadly. "That I should dare to +raise my eyes to you is no doubt surprising." + +"I don't see that at all," exclaimed Diana coldly. "I like to be woo'd +like a woman, not honoured like a goddess." + +"You are both woman and goddess! But--you are not angry?" + +"Why should I be angry?" + +"Because I--I love you!" + +"I cannot be angry with--with--shall we say a compliment." + +"Oh, Diana!" + +"Wait! wait!" cried Miss Vrain, waving back this too eager lover. "You +cannot love me! You have known me only a month or two." + +"Love can be born in an hour," cried Lucian eagerly. "I loved you on the +first day I saw you! I love you now--I shall love you ever!" + +"Will you truly love me ever, Lucian?" + +"Oh, my darling! Can you doubt it? And you?" He looked at her hopefully. + +"And I?" she repeated in a pretty mocking tone, "and I?" With a laugh, +she bent and picked up the flower. "I take the rose and I give you--" + +"Yourself!" cried the enraptured lover, and the next moment he was +clasping her to his breast. "Oh, Diana, dearest! Will you really be my +wife?" + +"Yes," she said softly, and kissed him. + +For a few moments the emotions of both overcame them too much to permit +further speech; then Diana sat down and made Lucian sit beside her. + +"Lucian," she said in a firm voice, "I love you, and I shall be your +wife--when you find out who killed my poor father!" + +"It is impossible!" he cried in dismay. + +"No. We must prosecute the search. I have no right to be happy while the +wretch who killed him is still at large. We have failed hitherto, but we +may succeed yet! and when we succeed I shall marry you." + +"My darling!" cried Lucian in ecstasy; and then in a more subdued tone: +"I'll do all I can to find out the truth. But, after all, from what +point can I begin afresh?" + +"From the point of Mrs. Vrain," said Diana unexpectedly. + +"Mrs. Vrain!" cried the startled Lucian. "Do you still suspect her?" + +"Yes, I do!" + +"But she has cleared herself on the most undeniable evidence." + +"Not in my eyes," said Diana obstinately. "If Mrs. Vrain is innocent, +how did she find out that the unknown man murdered in Geneva Square was +my father?" + +"By his assumption of the name of Berwin, which was mentioned in the +advertisement; also from the description of the body, and particularly +by the mention of the cicatrice on the right cheek, and of the loss of +the little finger of the left hand." + +Diana started. "I never heard that about the little finger," she said +hurriedly. "Are you sure?" + +"Yes. I saw myself when I knew your father as Berwin, that he had lost +that little finger." + +"Then, Lucian, you did _not_ see my father!" + +"What!" cried Denzil, hardly able to credit her words. + +"My father never lost a finger!" cried Diana, starting to her feet. "Ah, +Lucian, I now begin to see light. That man who called himself Berwin, +who was murdered, was not my father. No, I believe--on my soul, I +believe that my father, Mark Vrain, is alive!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A STARTLING THEORY + + +When Diana declared that her father yet lived, Lucian drew back from her +in amazement, for of all impossible things said of this impossible case +this saying of hers was the strangest and most incredible. Hitherto, not +a suspicion had entered his mind but that the man so mysteriously slain +in Geneva Square was Mark Vrain, and, for the moment, he thought that +Diana was distraught to deny so positive a fact. + +"It is impossible," said he, shaking his head, "quite impossible. Mrs. +Vrain identified the corpse, and so did other people who knew your +father well." + +"As to Mrs. Vrain," said Diana contemptuously, "I quite believe she +would lie to gain her own ends. And it may be that the man who was +murdered was like my father in the face, but--" + +"He had the mark on his cheek," interrupted Lucian, impatient of this +obstinate belief in the criminality of Lydia. + +"I know that mark well," replied Miss Vrain. "My father received it in a +duel he fought in his youth, when he was a student in a German +university; but the missing finger." She shook her head. + +"He might have lost the finger while you were in Australia," suggested +the barrister. + +"He might," rejoined Diana doubtfully, "but it is unlikely. As to other +people identifying the body, they no doubt did so by looking at the face +and its scar. Still, I do not believe the murdered man was my father." + +"If not, why should Mrs. Vrain identify the body as that of her +husband?" + +"Why? Because she wanted to get the assurance money." + +"She may have been misled by the resemblance of the dead man to your +father." + +"And who provided that resemblance? My dear Lucian, I would not be at +all surprised to learn that there was conspiracy as well as murder in +this matter. My father left his home, and Lydia could not find him. I +quite believe that. As she cannot prove his death, she finds it +impossible to obtain the assurance money; so what does she do?" + +"I cannot guess," said Lucian, anxious to hear Diana's theory. + +"Why, she finds a man who resembles my father, and sets him to play the +part of the recluse in Geneva Square. She selects a man in ill health +and given to drink, that he may die the sooner; and, by being buried as +Mark Vrain, give her the money she wants. When you told me of this man +Berwin's coughing and drinking, I thought it strange, as my father had +no consumptive disease when I left him, and never, during his life, was +he given to over-indulgence in drink. Now I see the truth. This dead man +was Lydia's puppet." + +"Even granting that this is so, which I doubt, Diana, why should the man +be murdered?" + +"Why?" cried Diana fiercely. "Because he was not dying quickly enough +for that woman's purpose. She did not kill him herself, if her alibi is +to be credited, but she employed Ferruci to murder him." + +"You forget Signor Ferruci also proved an alibi." + +"A very doubtful one," said Miss Vrain scornfully. "You did not ask that +Dr. Jorce the questions you should have done. Go up to London now, +Lucian, see him at Hampstead, and find out if Ferruci was at his house +at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve. Then I shall believe him guiltless; +till then, I hold him but the creature and tool of Lydia." + +"Jorce declares that Ferruci was with him at the house when the murder +was committed?" + +"Can you believe that? Ferruci may have made it worth the while of this +doctor to lie. And even granting that much, the presence of Ferruci at +the Jersey Street house shows that he knew what was going to take place +on that night, and perhaps arranged with another man to do the deed. +Either way you look at it, he and Lydia are implicated." + +"I tell you it is impossible, Diana," said Lucian, finding it vain to +combat this persistent belief. "All this plotting of crime is such as +is found in novels, not in real life----" + +"In real life," cried Diana, taking the words out of his mouth, "more +incredible things take place than can be conceived by the most fantastic +imagination of an author. Look at this talk of ours--it began with words +of love and marriage speeches, and it ends with a discussion of murder. +But this I say, Lucian, that if you love me, and would have me marry +you, you must find out the truth of these matters. Learn if this dead +man is my father--for from what you have told me of the lost finger I do +not believe that he is. Hunt down the assassin, and discover if he is +whom I believe him to be--Ferruci himself; and learn, if you can, what +Lydia has to do with all these evil matters. Do this, and I am yours. +Refuse, and I shall not marry you!" + +"You set me a hard task," said Lucian, with a sigh, "and I hardly know +how to set about it." + +"Be guided by me," replied Diana. "Go up to London and put an +advertisement in the papers offering a reward for the discovery of my +father. He is of medium height, with grey hair, and has a clean-shaven +face, with a scar on it----" + +"You describe the dead man, Diana." + +"But he has not lost a finger," continued Diana, as though she had not +heard him. "If my father, for fear of Lydia, is in hiding, he will come +to you or me in answer to that advertisement." + +"But he must have seen the report of his death by violence in the +papers, if indeed he is alive," urged Lucian, at his wit's end. + +"My father is weak in the head, and perhaps was afraid to come out in +the midst of such trouble. But if you put in the advertisement that +I--his daughter--am in England, he will come to me, for with me he knows +he is safe. Also call on Dr. Jorce, and find out the truth about Signor +Ferruci." + +"And then?" + +"Then when you have done these two things we shall see what will come of +them. Promise me to do what I ask you." + +"I promise," said Lucian, taking her hand, "but you send me on a +wild-goose chase." + +"That may be, Lucian, but my heart--my +presentiment--my--instinct--whatever you like to call it--tells me +otherwise. Now let us go inside." + +"Shall we tell Miss Barbar of our engagement?" asked Denzil timidly. + +"No; you will tell no one of that until we learn the truth of this +conspiracy. When we do, Lucian, you will find that my father is not dead +but is alive, and will be at our wedding." + +"I doubt it--I doubt it." + +"I am sure of it," answered Diana, and slipping her hand within the arm +of her lover she walked with him up to the house. It was the strangest +of wooings. + +Miss Barbar, with a true woman's interest in love affairs, was inclined +to congratulate them both when they entered, deeming--as the chance had +been so propitious--that Lucian had proposed. But Diana looked so +stern, and Lucian so gloomy, that she held her peace. + +Later on, when her curiosity got the better of her desire not to offend +her pupil, she asked if Denzil had spoken. + +"Yes," replied Diana, "he has spoken." + +"And you have refused him?" cried the old lady in dismay, for she did +not relish the idea that Lucian should have lost by her counsel. + +"No; I have not refused him." + +"Then you have said 'yes,' my dear!" + +"I have said sufficient," replied Diana cautiously. "Please do not +question me any further, Miss Barbar. Lucian and I understand one +another very well." + +"She calls him by his Christian name," thought the wise old dame, "that +is well. She will not speak of her happiness, that is ill," and in +various crafty ways Miss Barbar tried to learn how matters actually +stood between the pair. + +But if she was skilful in asking questions, Diana was equally skilful in +baffling them, and Miss Barbar learned nothing more than her pupil chose +to tell her, and that was little enough. To perplex her still further, +Lucian departed for London the next day, with a rather disconsolate look +on his handsome face, and gave his adviser no very satisfactory +explanation at parting. + +So Miss Barbar was forced to remain in ignorance of the success or +failure of her counsel, and could by no means discover if the marriage +she was so anxious to bring about was likely to take place. And so ended +Denzil's visit to Berwin Manor. + +In the meantime, Lucian went back to London with a heavy heart, for he +did not see how he was to set about the task imposed on him by Diana. At +first he thought it would be best to advertise, as she advised, but this +he considered would do no good, as if Vrain--supposing him to be alive +and in hiding--would not come out at the false report of his murder, he +certainly would not appear in answer to an advertisement that might be a +snare. + +Then Lucian wondered if it would be possible to have the grave opened a +second time that Diana might truly see if the corpse was that of her +father or of another man. But this also was impossible, and--to speak +plainly--useless, for by this time the body would not be recognisable; +therefore, it would be of little use to exhume the poor dead man, +whomsoever he might be, for the second time. Finally, Lucian judged it +would be wisest of all to call on Dr. Jorce, and find out why he was +friendly with Ferruci, and how much he knew of the Italian's doings. + +While the barrister was making up his mind to this course he was +surprised to receive a visit from no less a person than Mr. Jabez Clyne, +the father of Lydia. + +The little man, usually so bright and merry, now looked worried and ill +at ease. Lucian--so much as he had seen of him--had always liked him +better than Lydia, and was sorry to see him so downcast. Nor when he +learned the reason was he better pleased. Clyne told it to him in a +roundabout way. + +"Do you know anything against Signor Ferruci?" he asked, when the first +greetings were over. + +"Very little, and that bad," replied Denzil shortly. + +"Do you refer to the horrible death of my son-in-law?" + +"Yes, I do, Mr. Clyne. I believe Ferruci had a hand in it, and if you +bring him here I'll tell him so." + +"Can you prove it?" asked Clyne eagerly. + +"No. As yet, Ferruci has proved that he was not in Geneva Square on the +night of the crime--or rather," added Lucian, correcting himself, "at +the hour when the murder was committed." + +Clyne's face fell. "I wish you could discover if he is guilty or not," +he said. "I am anxious to know the truth." + +"Why?" asked Lucian bluntly. + +"Because if he is guilty, I don't want my daughter to marry a murderer." + +"What! Is Mrs. Vrain going to marry him?" + +"Yes," said the little man disconsolately, "and I wish she wasn't." + +"So do I--for her own sake. I thought she did not like him. She said as +much to me." + +"I can't make her out, Mr. Denzil. She grew tired of him for a time, but +now she has taken up with him again, and nothing I can say or do will +stop the marriage. I love Lydia beyond words, as she is my only child, +and I don't want to see her married to a man of doubtful reputation like +Ferruci. So I thought I'd call and see if you could help me." + +"I can't," replied Lucian. "As yet I have found out nothing likely to +implicate Ferruci in the crime." + +"But you may," said Clyne hopefully. + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders. + +"If I do, you shall know at once," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +LUCIAN IS SURPRISED + + +Although Denzil received Mr. Clyne with all courtesy, and promised to +aid him, if he could, in breaking off the marriage with Ferruci, by +revealing his true character to Mrs. Vrain, he by no means made a +confidant of the little man, or entrusted him with the secret of his +plans. Clyne, as he well knew, was dominated in every way by his astute +daughter, and did he learn Lucian's intentions, he was quite +capable--through sheer weakness of character--of revealing the same to +Lydia, who, in her turn--since she was bent upon marrying Ferruci--might +retail them to the Italian, and so put him on his guard. + +Denzil, therefore, rid himself of the American by promising to tell him, +on some future occasion, all that he knew about Ferruci. Satisfied with +this, Clyne departed in a more cheerful mood, and, apparently, hoped for +the best. + +After his departure, Lucian again began to consider his idea of calling +on Jorce regarding the alibi of Ferruci. On further reflection he judged +that, before paying the visit to Hampstead, it might be judicious to +see Rhoda again, and refresh his memory in connection with the events of +Christmas Eve. With this idea he put on his hat, and shortly after the +departure of Clyne walked round to Jersey Street. + +On ringing the bell, the door was opened by Rhoda in person, looking +sharper and more cunning than ever. She informed him that he could not +see Mrs. Bensusan, as that good lady was in bed with a cold. + +"I don't want to see your mistress, my girl," said Lucian quickly, to +stop Rhoda from shutting the door in his face, which she seemed disposed +to do. "I desire to speak with you." + +"About that there murder?" asked Rhoda sharply. Then in reply to the nod +of Lucian she continued: "I told you all I knew about it when you called +before. I don't know nothing more." + +"Can you tell me the name of the dark man you saw in the yard?" + +"No, I can't. I know nothing about him." + +"Did you ever hear Mr. Wrent mention his name?" + +"No, sir. He called and he went, and I saw him in the back yard at 8.30. +I never spoke to him, and he never spoke to me." + +"Could you swear to the man if you saw him?" + +"Yes, I could. Have you got him with you?" asked Rhoda eagerly. + +"Not at present," answered Lucian, rather surprised by the vindictive +expression on the girl's face. "But later on I may call upon you to +identify him." + +"Do you know who he is?" asked the servant quickly. + +"I think so." + +"Did he kill that man?" + +"Possibly," said Denzil, wondering at these very pointed questions. "Why +do you ask?" + +"I have my reasons, sir. Where is my cloak?" + +"I will return it later on; it will probably be used as evidence." + +Rhoda started. "Where?" she demanded, with a frown. + +"At the trial." + +"Do you think they'll hang the person who killed Mr. Vrain?" + +"If the police catch him, and his guilt is proved, I am sure they will +hang him." + +The girl's eyes flashed with a wicked light, and she clasped and +unclasped her hands with a quick, nervous movement. "I hope they will," +she said in a low, rapid voice. "I hope they will." + +"What!" cried Lucian, with a step forward. "Do you know the assassin?" + +"No!" cried Rhoda, with much vehemence. "I swear I don't, but I think +the murderer ought to be hanged. I know--I know--well, I know +something--see me to-morrow night, and you'll hear." + +"Hear what?" + +"The truth," said this strange girl, and shut the door before Lucian +could say another word. + +The barrister, quite dumbfounded, remained on the step looking at the +closed door. So important were Rhoda's words that he was on the point of +ringing again, to interview her once more and force her to speak. But +when he reflected that Mrs. Bensusan was in bed, and that Rhoda alone +could reopen the door--which from her late action it was pretty evident +she would not do--he decided to retire for the present. It was little +use to call in the police, or create trouble by forcing his way into the +house, as that might induce Rhoda to run away before giving her +evidence. So Lucian departed, with the intention of keeping the next +night's appointment, and hearing what Rhoda had to say. + +"The truth," he repeated, as he walked along the street. "Evidently she +knows who killed this man. If so, why did she not speak before, and why +is she so vindictive? Heavens! If Diana's belief should be a true one, +and her father not dead? Conspiracy! murder! this gypsy girl, that +subtle Italian, and the mysterious Wrent! My head is in a whirl. I +cannot understand what it all means. To-morrow, when Rhoda speaks, I +may. But--can I trust her? I doubt it. Still, there is nothing else for +it. I _must_ trust her." + +Talking to himself in this incoherent way, Lucian reached his rooms and +tried to quiet the excitement of his brain caused by the strange words +of Rhoda. It was yet early in the afternoon, so he took up a book and +threw himself on the sofa to read for an hour, but he found it quite +impossible to fix his attention on the page. The case in which he was +concerned was far more exciting than any invention of the brain, and +after a vain attempt to banish it from his mind he jumped up and threw +the book aside. + +Although he did not know it, Lucian was suffering from a sharp attack of +detective fever, and the only means of curing such a disease is to learn +the secret which haunts the imagination. Rhoda, as she stated--rather +ambiguously, it must be confessed--could reveal this especial secret +touching the murder of Vrain; but, for some hidden reason, chose to +delay her confession for twenty-four hours. Lucian, all on fire with +curiosity, found himself unable to bear this suspense, so to distract +his mind and learn, if possible, the true relationship existing between +Ferruci and Jorce, he set out for Hampstead to interview the doctor. + +"The Haven," as Jorce, with some humour, termed his private asylum, was +a red brick house, large, handsome, and commodious, built in a wooded +and secluded part of Hampstead. It was surrounded by a high brick wall, +over which the trees of its park could be seen, and possessed a pair of +elaborate iron gates, opening on to a quiet country lane. Externally, it +looked merely the estate of a gentleman. + +The grounds were large, and well laid out in flower gardens and +orchards; and as it was Dr. Jorce's system to allow his least crazy +patients as much liberty as possible, they roamed at will round the +grounds, giving the place a cheerful and populated look. The more +violent inmates were, of course, secluded; but these were well and +kindly treated by the doctor. Indeed, Jorce was a very humane man, and +had a theory that more cures of the unhappy beings under his charge +could be effected by kindness than by severity. + +His asylum was more like a private hotel with paying guests than an +establishment for the retention of the insane, and even to an outside +observer the eccentricities of the doctor's family--as he loved to call +them--were not more marked than many of the oddities possessed by people +at large. Indeed, Jorce was in the habit of saying that "There were more +mad people in the world than were kept under lock and key," and in this +he was doubtless right. However, the kindly and judicious little man was +like a father to those under his charge, and very popular with them all. +Anything more unlike the popular conception of an asylum than the +establishment at Hampstead can scarcely be imagined. + +When Lucian arrived at "The Haven," he found that Jorce had long since +returned from his holiday, and was that day at home; so on sending in +his card he was at once admitted into the presence of the local +potentate. Jorce, looking smaller and more like a fairy changeling than +ever, was evidently pleased to see Lucian, but a look on his dry, yellow +face indicated that he was somewhat puzzled to account for the visit. +However, preliminary greetings having passed, Lucian did not leave him +long in doubt. + +"Dr. Jorce," he said boldly, and without preamble, "I have called to see +you about that alibi of Signor Ferruci's." + +"Alibi is a nasty word, Mr. Denzil," said Jorce, looking sharply at his +visitor. + +"Perhaps, but it is the only word that can be used with propriety." + +"But I thought that I was called on to decide a bet." + +"Oh, that was Count Ferruci's clever way of putting it," responded +Lucian, with a sneer. "He did not wish you to know too much about his +business." + +"H'm! Perhaps I know more than you think, Mr. Denzil." + +"What do you mean, sir?" cried Lucian sharply. + +"Softly, Mr. Denzil, softly," rejoined the doctor, waving his hand. "I +shall explain everything to your satisfaction. Do you know why I went to +Italy?" + +"No; no more than I know why you went with Signor Ferruci," replied +Lucian, recalling Link's communication. + +"Ah!" said Jorce placidly, "you have been making inquiries, I see. But +you are wrong in one particular. I did not go to Italy with Ferruci--I +left him in Paris, and I went on myself to Florence to find out the true +character of the man." + +"Why did you wish to do that, doctor?" + +"Because I had some business with our mutual friend, the Count, and I +was not altogether pleased with the way in which it was conducted. Also, +my last interview with you about that bet made me suspicious of the man. +Over in Florence I learned sufficient about the Count to assure me that +he is a bad man, with whom it is as well to have as little to do as +possible. I intended to return at once with this information and call on +you, Mr. Denzil. Unfortunately, I fell ill of an attack of typhoid fever +in Florence, and had to stay there these two months." + +"I am sorry," said Lucian, noting that the doctor did look ill, "but why +did you not send on your information to me?" + +"It was necessary to see you personally, Mr. Denzil. I arrived back a +few days ago, and intended writing to you when I recovered from the +fatigue of the journey. However, your arrival saves me the trouble. Now +I can tell you all about Ferruci, if you like." + +"Then tell me, Doctor, if you spoke truly about that alibi?" + +"Yes, I did. Count Ferruci was with me that night, and stayed here until +the next morning." + +"What time did he arrive?" + +"About ten o'clock, or, to be precise," said Jorce, "about ten-thirty." + +"Ah!" cried Lucian exultantly, "then Ferruci must have been the man in +the back yard!" + +"What do you mean by that?" asked Jorce in a puzzled tone. + +"Why, that Count Ferruci has had to do with a crime committed some +months ago in Pimlico. A man called Mark Vrain was murdered, as you may +have seen in the papers, Doctor, and I believe Ferruci murdered him." + +"If I remember rightly," said Jorce with calmness, "the man in question +was murdered shortly before midnight on Christmas Eve. If that is so, +Ferruci could not have killed him, because, as I said before, he was +here at half-past ten on that night." + +"I don't say he actually killed the man," explained Lucian eagerly, "but +he certainly employed some one to strike the blow, else what was he +doing in the Jersey Street yard on that night? You can say what you +like, Dr. Jorce, but that man is guilty of Mark Vrain's death." + +"No," replied Jorce coolly, "he's not, for the simple reason that Vrain +is not dead." + +"Not dead?" repeated Lucian, recalling Diana's belief. + +"No! For the last few months Mark Vrain, under the name of Michael +Clear, has been in this asylum!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A DARK PLOT + + +"So Vrain is alive, after all!" was Lucian's comment on the speech of +Jorce, "and he is here under your charge? Jove! it's wonderful! Diana +was right, after all!" + +"Diana? Who is Diana?" queried Jorce, then held up his hand to stop his +visitor from replying. "Wait! I know! Vrain mentioned his daughter +Diana." + +"Yes, she is the daughter of Vrain, and she believes her father to be +alive." + +"On what grounds?" + +"Because the dead man, whom, until lately, she believed to be Mr. Vrain, +had one of his little fingers missing. That fact came to her knowledge +only a week ago. When it did, she declared that the deceased could not +be her father." + +"H'm!" said Jorce thoughtfully, "I am quite in the dark as to why Mr. +Vrain was put under my charge." + +"Because Ferruci wished to marry his widow." + +"I see! Ferruci substituted another man for my patient and had him +killed." + +"Evidently," replied Lucian; "but I am almost as much in the dark as +you are, Dr. Jorce. Tell me how Vrain came to be placed here, and, +exchanging confidence for confidence, I'll let you know all I have +discovered since the death of the man in Geneva Square who called +himself Berwin." + +"That is a fair offer," replied Jorce, clearing his throat, "and one +which I willingly accept. I do not wish you to think that I am in league +with Signor Ferruci. What I did was done honestly. I am not afraid of +telling my story." + +"I am sure of that," said Lucian heartily. "I guessed that Ferruci had +not trusted you altogether, from the time he feigned that your evidence +was needed only to decide a bet." + +"Trust me!" echoed Jorce, with scorn. "He never trusted me at all. He is +too cunning for that. However, you shall hear." + +"I'm all attention, Doctor." + +"A week before last Christmas, Signor Ferruci called to see me, and +explained that he was interested in a gentleman called Michael Clear, +whom he had met some years before in Italy. Clear, he said, had been +most intimate with him, but later on had indulged so much in the morphia +habit that their friendship had terminated with high words. Afterwards, +Clear had returned to England, and Ferruci lost sight of him for some +months. Then he visited England, and one day found Clear in the street, +looking ill and wretched. The man had become a confirmed morphiamaniac, +and the habit had weakened his brain. The Count pitied the poor +creature, according to his own story, and took him to his home, the +whereabouts of which Clear was happily able to remember." + +"Where is the house?" asked Lucian, taking out his pocketbook. + +"Number 30, St. Bertha's Road, Bayswater," replied Jorce; and when the +barrister, for his private information, had made a note of the address, +he continued: "It then appeared that Clear was married. The wife told +Ferruci that she was afraid of her husband, who, in his fits of +drink--for he drank likewise--often threatened to kill her. They had +lost their money, and the poor woman was at her wit's end what to do. +Ferruci explained to me that out of friendship he was most anxious to +befriend Clear, and stated that Mrs. Clear wished to get her husband +cured. He proposed, therefore, to put Clear into my asylum, and pay on +behalf of the wife." + +"A very ingenious and plausible plan," said Lucian. "Well, Doctor, and +what did you say?" + +"I agreed, of course, provided the man was certified insane in the usual +way. Ferruci then departed, promising to bring Mrs. Clear to see me. He +brought her late on Christmas Eve, at ten--" + +"Ah!" interrupted Lucian, "did she wear a black gauze veil with velvet +spots?" + +"She did, Mr. Denzil. Have you met her?" + +"No, but I have heard of her. She was the woman who visited Wrent in +Jersey Street. No doubt Ferruci was waiting for her in the back yard." + +"Who is Wrent?" asked Jorce, looking puzzled. + +"Don't you know the name, Doctor?" + +"No." + +"Did Mrs. Clear never mention it?" + +"Never." + +"Nor Ferruci?" + +"No. I never heard the name before," replied Jorce complacently. + +"Strange!" said Denzil reflectively. "Yet Wrent seems to be at the +bottom of the whole plot. Well, never mind, just now. Please continue, +my dear Doctor. What did Mrs. Clear say?" + +"Oh, she repeated Ferruci's story, amplified in a feminine fashion. She +was afraid of Michael, who, when excited with morphia or drink, would +snatch up a knife to attempt her life. Twice she had disarmed him, and +now she was tired and frightened. She was willing for him to go into my +asylum since Count Ferruci had so kindly consented to bear the expense, +but she wished to give him one more chance. Then, as it was late, she +stayed here all night. So did the Count, and on Christmas Day they went +away." + +"When did they come back?" + +"About a fortnight later, and they brought with them the man they both +called Michael Clear." + +"What is he like?" + +"An old man with a white beard." + +"Is he mad?" asked Lucian bluntly. + +"He is not mad now, only weak in the head," replied Jorce +professionally, "but he was certainly mad when he arrived. The man's +brain is wrecked by morphia." + +"Not by drink?" + +"No; although it suited Mrs. Clear and Ferruci to say so. But Clear, as +I may call him, was very violent, and quite justified Mrs. Clear's +desire to sequester him. She told me that he often imagined himself to +be other people. Sometimes he would feign to be Napoleon; again the +Pope; so when he, a week after he was in the asylum, insisted that he +was Mark Vrain, I put it down to his delusion." + +"But how could you think he had come by the name, Doctor?" + +"My dear sir, at that time the papers were full of the case and its +mystery, and as we have a reading-room in this asylum, I fancied that +Clear had seen the accounts, and had, as a delusion, called himself +Vrain. Afterwards he fell into a kind of comatose state, and for weeks +said very little. He was most abject and frightened, and responded in a +timid sort of way to the name of Clear. Naturally this confirmed me in +my belief that his calling himself Vrain was a delusion. Then he grew +better, and one day told me that his name was Vrain. Of course, I did +not believe him. Still, he was so persistent about the matter that I +thought there might be something in it, and spoke to Ferruci." + +"What did he say?" + +"He denied that the man's name was anything but Clear. That the wife +and two doctors--for the poor soul had been duly certified as +insane--had put him into the asylum; and altogether persisted so +strongly in his original story that I thought it was absurd to put a +crazy man's delusion against a sane man's tale. Besides, everything +regarding the certificate and sequestrating of Clear had been quite +legal. Two doctors--and very rightly, too--had certified to the insanity +of the man; and his wife--as I then believed Mrs. Clear to be--had +consented to his detention." + +"What made you suspicious that there might be something wrong?" asked +Lucian eagerly. + +"My visit to meet you, at Ferruci's request, to prove the alibi," +responded Jorce. "I thought it was strange, and afterwards, when a +detective named Mr. Link, called, I thought it was stranger still." + +"But you did not see Link?" + +"No. I was in Italy then, but I heard of his visit. In Florence I heard +from a most accomplished gossip the whole story of Mr. Vrain's marriage +and the prior engagement of Mrs. Vrain to Ferruci. I guessed that there +might be some plot, but I could not quite understand how it was carried +out, save that Vrain--as I then began to believe Clear to be--had been +placed in my asylum under a false name. On my return I intended to see +you, when I was laid up in Florence with the fever. Now, however, that +we have met, tell me so much of the story as you know. Afterwards we +shall see Mr. Vrain." + +Lucian was willing enough to show his confidence in Jorce, the more so +as he needed his help. Forthwith he told him all he knew, from the time +he had met Michael Clear, _alias_ Mark Berwin, _alias_ Mark Vrain, in +Geneva Square, down to the moment he had presented himself for +information at the gates of "The Haven." Doctor Jorce listened with the +greatest attention, his little face puckered up into a grim smile, and +shook his head when the barrister ended his recital. + +"A bad world, Mr. Denzil, a bad world!" he said, rising. "Come with me, +and I'll take you to see my patient." + +"But what do you think of it all?" said Denzil, eager for some comment. + +"I'll tell you that," rejoined Jorce, "when you have heard the story of +Mr. Vrain." + +In a few minutes Lucian was led by his guide into a pleasant room, with +French windows opening on to a wide verandah, and a sunny lawn set round +with flowers. Books were arranged on shelves round the walls, newspapers +and magazines were on the table, and near the window, in a comfortable +chair, sat an old man with a volume in his hand. As Jorce entered he +stood up and shuffled forward with a senile smile of delight. +Evidently--and with reason, poor soul--he considered the doctor his very +good friend. + +"Well, well!" said the cheery Jorce, "and how are you to-day, Mr. +Vrain?" + +"I feel very well," replied Vrain in a soft, weak voice. "Who is this, +Doctor?" + +"A young friend of mine, Mr. Vrain. He wishes to hear your story." + +"Alas! alas!" sighed Vrain, his eyes filling with tears, "a sad story, +sir." + +The father of Diana was of middle height, with white hair, and a long +white beard which swept his chest. On his cheek Lucian saw the cicatrice +of which Diana had spoken, and mainly by which the dead man had been +falsely identified as Vrain. He was very like Clear in figure and +manner; but, of course, the resemblance in the face was not very close, +as Clear had been clean shaven, whereas the real Vrain wore a beard. The +eyes were dim and weak-looking, and altogether Lucian saw that Vrain was +not fitted to battle with the world in any way, and quite weak enough to +become the prey of villains, as had been his sad fate. + +"My name is Mark Vrain, young sir," said he, beginning his story without +further preamble. "I lived in Berwin Manor, Bath, with my wife Lydia, +but she treated me badly by letting another man love her, and I left +her. Oh, yes, sir, I left her. I went away to Salisbury, and was very +happy there with my books, but, alas! I took morph----" + +"Vrain!" said Jorce, holding up his finger, "no!" + +"Of course, of course," said the old man, with a watery smile, "I mean I +was very happy there. But Signor Ferruci, a black-hearted villain"--his +face grew dark as he mentioned the name--"found me out and made me come +with him to London. He kept me there for months, and then he brought me +here." + +"Kept you where, Mr. Vrain?" asked Lucian gently. + +The old man looked at him with a vacant eye. "I don't know," he said in +a dull voice. + +"You came here from Bayswater," hinted Jorce. + +"Yes, yes, Bayswater!" cried Vrain, growing excited. "I was there with a +woman they called my wife. She was not my wife! My wife is fair, this +woman was dark. Her name was Maud Clear: my wife's name is Lydia." + +"Did Mrs. Clear say you were her husband, Michael?" + +"Yes. She called me Michael Clear, and brought me to stay with the +doctor. But I am not Michael Clear!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE OTHER MAN'S WIFE + + +As soon as Lucian arrived back in his rooms he sat down at his desk and +wrote a long letter to Diana, giving a full account of his extraordinary +discovery of her father in Jorce's asylum, and advising her to come up +at once to London. + +When he posted this--which he did the same night--he sighed to think it +was not a love letter. He could have covered reams of paper with words +of passion and adoration; he could have poured out his whole soul at the +feet of his divinity, telling her of his love, his aspirations, his +hopes and fears. No doubt, from a common-sense view, the letter would +have been silly enough, but it would have relieved his mind and +completed his happiness of knowing that he loved and was beloved. + +But in place of writing thus, he was compelled by his promise to Diana +to pen a description of his late discovery, and interesting as the case +was now growing, he found it irksome to detail the incident of the +afternoon. He wished to be a lover, not a detective. + +So absent-minded and distraught was Lucian, that Miss Greeb, who had +long suspected something was wrong with him, spoke that very evening +about himself. She declared that Lucian was working too hard, that he +needed another rest, although he had just returned from the country, and +recommended a sleeping draught. Finally she produced a letter which had +just arrived, and as it was in a female hand, Miss Greeb watched its +effect on her admired lodger with the keen eyes of a jealous woman. When +she saw him flush and seize it eagerly, casting, meanwhile, an impatient +look on her to leave the room, she knew the truth at once, and retired +hurriedly to the kitchen, where she shed floods of tears. + +"I might have guessed it," gasped Miss Greeb to a comfortable cat which +lay selfishly before the fire. "He's far too good-looking not to be +snapped up. He'll be leaving me and setting up house with that other +woman. I only hope she'll do for him as well as I have done. I wonder if +she's beautiful and rich. Oh, how dreadful it all is!" But the cat made +no comment on this tearful address--not as much as a mew. It rolled over +into a warmer place and went to sleep again. Cats are particularly +selfish animals. + +Two days afterwards Miss Greeb opened the door to a tall and beautiful +lady, who asked for Mr. Denzil, and was shown into his sitting-room. +With keen instinct, Miss Greeb decided that this was the woman who had +taken possession of Lucian's heart, and being a just little creature, in +spite of her jealousy, was obliged to admit that the visitor was as +handsome as a picture. Then, seeing that there was no chance for her +beside this splendid lady, she consoled herself with a dismal little +proverb, and looked forward to the time when it would be necessary to +put a ticket in the parlour window. Meanwhile, to have some one on whose +bosom she could weep, Miss Greeb went round to see Mrs. Bensusan, +leaving Diana in possession of Lucian, and the cat sole occupant of the +kitchen. + +In the drawing-room, on the front floor, Diana, with her eyes shining +like two stars, was talking to Lucian. She had come up at once on +receipt of his letter; she had been to Hampstead, she had seen her +father, and now she was telling Lucian about the visit. + +"He knew me at once, poor dear," she said rapidly, "and asked me if I +had been out, just as if I'd left the house for a visit and come back. +Ah!"--she shook her head and sighed--"I am afraid he'll never be quite +himself again." + +"What does Jorce think?" + +"He says that father can be discharged as cured, and is going to see +about it for me. Of course, he will never be quite sane, but he will +never be violent so long as morphia and drugs of that sort are kept from +him. As soon as he is discharged I shall take him back to Bath, and put +him in charge of Miss Barbar; then I shall return to town, and we must +expose the whole conspiracy!" + +"Conspiracy?" + +"What else do you call it, Lucian? That woman and Ferruci have planned +and carried it out between them. They put my father into the asylum, and +made another man pass as him, in order to get the assurance money. As +their tool did not die quickly enough, they killed him." + +"No, Diana. Both Lydia and Ferruci have proved beyond all doubt that +they were not in Pimlico at the hour of the death. I believe they +contrived this conspiracy, but I don't believe they murdered Clear." + +"Well, we shall see what defence they make. But one thing is certain, +Lucian--Lydia will have to disgorge the assurance money." + +"Yes, she certainly will, and I've no doubt the Assurance Company will +prosecute her for fraud in obtaining it. I shall see Ferruci to-morrow +and force him to confess his putting your father in the asylum." + +"No!" said Diana, shaking her head. "Don't do that until you have more +evidence against him." + +"I think the evidence of Jorce is strong enough. I suppose you mean the +evidence of Mrs. Clear?" + +"Yes; although for her own sake I don't suppose she will speak." + +Lucian nodded. "I thought of that also," he said, "and yesterday I went +to St. Bertha Street, Bayswater, to see her. But I found that she had +moved, and no one knew where she was. I expect, having received her +price for the conspiracy, she has left London. However, I put an +advertisement in the papers, saying if she called on me here she would +hear of something to her advantage. It is in the papers this morning." + +"I doubt if she will call," said Diana seriously. "What about the +promised revelation of Rhoda?" + +"I believe that girl is deceiving me," cried Lucian angrily. "I went +round to Jersey Street, as she asked me, and only saw Mrs. Bensusan, who +said that Rhoda was out and would not be back for some time. Then I had +to wait for you here and tell you all about your father, so the thing +slipped my memory. I have not been near the place since, but I'll go +round there to-night. Whatever is Miss Greeb thinking of?" cried Lucian, +breaking off quickly. "That front door bell has been ringing for at +least five minutes!" + +To Diana's amusement, Lucian went and shouted down the stairs to Miss +Greeb, but as no reply came, and the bell was still ringing furiously, +he was obliged to open the door himself. On the step there stood a +little woman in a tailor-made brown frock, a plainly trimmed brown straw +hat with a black gauze velvet-spotted veil. At once Denzil guessed who +she was. + +"You are Mrs. Clear?" he said, delighted that she had replied so quickly +to his advertisement, for it had only that morning appeared in the +newspapers. + +"Yes, I am," answered the woman, in a quick, sharp voice. "Are you the +L. D. who advertised for me?" + +"Yes. Come upstairs. I have much to say to you." + +"Diana," said Lucian, on entering the room with his prize, "let me +introduce you to Mrs. Clear." + +"Mrs. Clear! Are you the wife of the man who was murdered in the house +opposite?" + +Mrs. Clear uttered a cry of astonishment, and turned as if to retreat. +But Denzil was between her and the door, so she saw that there was +nothing for it but to outface the situation. As though she found it +difficult to breathe, she threw up her veil, and Diana beheld a thin +white face with two brilliant black eyes. + +"This is a trap," said Mrs. Clear, hoarsely, looking from the one to the +other. "Who are you?" + +"I," said Lucian, politely, "I am the man who met your husband +before----" + +"My husband! I have my husband in an asylum. You can't have met him!" + +"You are telling a falsehood," said Diana fiercely. "The gentleman in +the asylum of Dr. Jorce is not your husband, but my father!" + +"Your father? And who are you?" + +"I am Diana Vrain." + +Mrs. Clear gave a screech, and dropped back on to the sofa, staring at +Diana with wide-open and terrified eyes. + +"And now, Mrs. Clear, I see you realise the situation," Lucian said +coldly. "You must confess your share in this conspiracy." + +"What conspiracy?" she interrupted furiously. + +"The putting of Mr. Vrain into an asylum, and the passing off of your +husband, Michael Clear, as him." + +"I don't know anything about it." + +"Come, now, you talk nonsense! If you refuse to speak I'll have you +arrested at once." + +"Arrest me!" She bounded off the sofa with flashing eyes. + +"Yes, on a charge of conspiracy. It is no use your getting angry, Mrs. +Clear, for it won't improve your position. We--that is, this lady and +myself--wish to know, firstly, how your husband came to be masquerading +as Mr. Vrain; secondly, where we can find the man called Wrent, who +employed your husband; and thirdly, Mrs. Clear, we wish to know, and the +law wishes to know, who killed your husband." + +"I don't know who killed him," said the woman, looking rather afraid, +"but I believe Wrent did." + +"Who is Wrent?" + +"I don't know." + +"You don't know many things," said Diana, taking part in the +conversation, "but you must tell us what you do know, otherwise I shall +call in a policeman and have you arrested." + +"You can't prove anything against me." + +"I think I can," said Lucian in the most cheerful manner. "I can prove +that you were in No. 13 of this Square, seeing your husband, for I found +on the fence dividing the back yard of that house from one in Jersey +Street a scrap of a veil such as you wear. Also the landlady and servant +can prove that you called on Mr. Wrent several times, and were with him +on the night of the murder. Then there is the evidence of your cloak, +which you left behind, and which Wrent gave to the servant Rhoda. Also +the evidence of Signor Ferruci----" + +"Ferruci! What has he said about me?" + +Lucian saw that revenge might make the woman speak, so he lied in the +calmest manner to get at the truth. "Ferruci says that he contrived the +whole conspiracy." + +"So he did," said Mrs. Clear, with a nod. + +"And took you to 'The Haven,' at Hampstead, on Christmas Eve." + +"That's true. He took me from Wrent's house in Jersey Street. You need +not go on, Mr. L. D. I admit the whole business." + +"You do?" cried Lucian and Diana together. + +"Yes, if only to spite that old villain Wrent, who has not paid me the +money he promised." + +Before Lucian and Miss Vrain could express their pleasure at Mrs. Clear +coming to this sensible conclusion, the door opened suddenly, and little +Miss Greeb, in a wonderful state of agitation, tripped in. + +"Oh, Mr. Denzil! I've just been to Mrs. Bensusan's, and Rhoda's run +away!" + +"Run away!" + +"Yes! She hasn't been back all day, and left a note for Mrs. Bensusan +saying she was going to hide, because she was afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +A CONFESSION + + +Now, indeed, Lucian had his hands full. Rhoda, the red-headed servant of +Mrs. Bensusan, had run away on the plea that she was afraid of +something--what she did not explain in the note she left behind her, and +it was necessary that she should be discovered, and forced into +confessing what she knew of the conspiracy and murder. Mrs. Clear, not +having been paid her hush money, had betrayed the confidence and +misdeeds of Ferruci, thereby revealing an extent of villainy for which +neither Diana nor Lucian was prepared. Now the Count had to be seen and +brought to book for his doings, Lydia informed that her husband was in +the asylum, and Vrain himself had to be released in due form from his +legal imprisonment. How Lucian, even with the assistance of Diana, could +deal with all these matters, he did not know. + +"Why not see Mr. Link?" suggested Diana, when Mrs. Clear had departed, +after making a clean breast of the nefarious transactions in which she +had been involved. "He may take the case in hand again." + +"No doubt," responded Denzil drily, "but I am not very keen to hand it +over to him, seeing that he has abandoned it twice. Again, if I call in +the police, it is all over with Lydia and the Count. They will be +arrested and punished." + +"For the murder of Clear?" + +"Perhaps, if it can be proved that they have anything to do with it; +certainly for the conspiracy to get the assurance money by the feigned +death of your father." + +"Well," said Diana coldly, "and why should they not receive the reward +of their deeds?" + +"Quite so; but the question is, do you wish any scandal?" + +Diana was silent. She had not looked at the matter from this point of +view. It was true what Lucian said. If the police took up the case +again, Lydia and her accomplice would be arrested, and the whole sordid +story of their doings would be in the papers. + +Diana was a proud woman, and winced at the idea of such publicity. It +would be as well to avoid proceeding to such extremities. If the +assurance money was returned by Lydia, she would be reduced to her +former estate, and by timely flight might escape the vengeance of the +defrauded company. After all, she was the wife of Vrain, and little as +Diana liked her, she did not wish to see the woman who was so closely +related to the wronged man put in prison; not for her own sake, but for +the sake of the name she so unworthily bore. + +"I leave it in your hands," said Diana to Lucian, who was watching her +closely. + +"Very good," replied Denzil. "Then I think it will be best for me to see +Ferruci first, and hear his confession; afterwards call on Mrs. Vrain, +and learn what she has to say. Then----" + +"Well," said Diana, curiously, "what then?" + +"I will be guided by circumstances. In the meantime, for the sake of +your name, we had better keep the matter as quiet as possible." + +"Mrs. Clear may speak out." + +"Mrs. Clear won't speak," said Denzil grimly. "She will keep quiet for +her own sake; and as Rhoda has left Jersey Street, there will be no +danger of trouble from that quarter. First, I'll see Lydia and the +Count, to get to the bottom of this conspiracy; then I'll set the police +on Rhoda's track, that she may be arrested and made to confess her +knowledge of the murder." + +"Do you think she knows anything?" + +"I think she knows everything," replied Lucian with emphasis. "That is +why she has run away. If we capture her, and force her to speak, we may +be able to arrest Wrent." + +"Why Wrent?" asked Diana. + +"Have you forgotten what Mrs. Clear said? I agree with her that he is +the assassin, although we can't prove it as yet." + +"But who is Wrent?" + +"Ah!" said Lucian, significantly, "that is just what I wish to find +out." + +The upshot of this interview was that early the next morning Denzil went +to the chambers of Ferruci, in Marquis Street, and informed the servant +that he wanted particularly to see the Count. + +At first the Italian, being still in bed--for he was a late riser--did +not incline to grant his visitor an interview; but on second thoughts he +ordered Lucian to be shown into the sitting-room, and shortly afterwards +joined him there wrapped in a dressing-gown. He welcomed the barrister +with a smiling nod, and having some instinct that Lucian came on an +unpleasant errand, he did not offer him his hand. From the first the two +men were on their guard against one another. + +"Good-morning, sir," said Ferruci in his best English. "May I ask why +you take me from my bed so early?" + +"To tell you a story." + +"About my friend Dr. Jorce saying I was with him on that night?" sneered +the Count. + +"Partly, and partly about a lady you know." + +Ferruci frowned. "You speak of Mrs. Vrain?" + +"No," replied Lucian coolly. "I speak of Mrs. Clear." + +At the mention of this name, which was the last one he expected to hear +his visitor pronounce, the Italian, in spite of his coolness and +cunning, could not forbear a start. + +"Mrs. Clear?" he repeated. "And what do you know of Mrs. Clear?" + +"As much as Dr. Jorce could tell me, Count." + +Ferruci's brow cleared. "Then you know I pay for keeping her miserable +husband with my friend," he said composedly. "It is for her sake I am so +kind." + +"Rather it is for your own you are so cunning." + +"Cunning! A most strange word for my goodness," said the Count coolly. + +"The most fit word, you mean," replied Lucian, impatient of this +fencing. "It is no use beating about the bush, Count. I know that the +man you keep in the asylum is not Clear, but Mark Vrain." + +"La! la! la! You talk great humbug. Mr. Vrain is dead and buried!" + +"He is not dead," answered Lucian resolutely, "and the man who was +buried under his name is Michael Clear, the husband of the woman who +told me all." + +Ferruci, who had been pacing impatiently up and down the room, stopped +short, with a nervous laugh. + +"This is most amusing," he said, with an emotion he could not conceal +despite his self-control. "Mrs. Clear told you all, eh? She told you +what, my friend?" + +"That is the story I have come to tell you," replied Lucian sharply. + +"Very good," said Ferruci, with a shrug. "I wait to hear this pretty +story," and with a frown he threw himself into a chair near Lucian. +Apparently he saw that he was found out, for it took him all his time to +keep his voice from trembling and his hands from shaking. The man was +not a coward, but being thus brought face to face with a peril he little +expected, it was scarcely to be wondered at that he felt shaken and +nervous. Moreover, he knew little about the English law, and hardly +guessed how his misdeeds would be punished. Still, he did not surrender +on the spot, but listened quietly to Lucian's story, in the hope of +seeing some way of escape from his awkward position. + +"The other day I went to Dr. Jorce's asylum," said Lucian slowly, "and +there I discovered--it matters not how--that your friend Clear was Mr. +Vrain; also I learned that he had been placed in the asylum by you and +Mrs. Clear. Jorce gave me her address in Bayswater, but when I went +there I could not find her; she had left. I then put an advertisement in +all the papers, stating that if she called on me she would hear of +something to her advantage. Now, Count, it appears that Mrs. Clear was +in the habit of looking into the papers to see if there was any message +from yourself, or your friend Wrent, so she saw my advertisement at +once, and came in person to reply to it." + +"One moment, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci politely. "I know no one called +Wrent, and he is not my friend." + +"We'll come to that hereafter," answered Lucian, with a shrug. "In the +meantime I'll proceed with my story, which I see interests you very +much. Well, Count, it seems that Michael Clear was an actor, who bore a +strong resemblance to Mr. Vrain, save that he had not a scar on his +face. Vrain, at Bath, was always clean shaven; now he wears a long white +beard, but that is neither here nor there. Clear had a moustache, but +when that was shaved off he looked exactly like Vrain. For purposes of +your own, which you can easily guess, you made the acquaintance of this +man, a profligate and a drunkard, and proposed, for a certain sum of +money to be paid to his wife, that he, Michael Clear, should personate +Vrain and live in the Silent House in Geneva Square, under the name of +Berwin. You knew that Clear was slowly dying of consumption and drink, +so you trusted that he would die as Vrain; that Mrs. Vrain--who I +believe is in the plot--would recognise the corpse by the description in +the newspapers; and that, when Clear was buried as Vrain, she would get +the assurance money and marry you." + +"That is clever," said the Count, with a sneer. + +"But is it true?" + +"You know best," answered Lucian, coolly. "However, all turned out as +you expected, for Clear died as Vrain--or rather was murdered at your +command, as he did not die quickly enough--his body was recognised by +Mrs. Vrain, buried as her husband, and she got the assurance money. The +only thing that remains for your conspiracy to be entirely successful is +that Mrs. Vrain should marry you; and--as I was told by Mr. Clyne--that +has pretty well been arranged." + +"Do you think, then, that Clyne would let his daughter marry a man who +has done all this?" said Ferruci, who was now very pale. + +"I don't believe Clyne knows anything about it," replied Lucian coldly. +"You and Mrs. Vrain made up this pretty plot between you. Vrain himself +told me how you decoyed him from Salisbury, and took him to Mrs. +Clear's, in Bayswater, where he passed as her husband, although, as she +confesses, she kept him as a kind of prisoner." + +"But this is wrong," cried Ferruci, trying to laugh. "This is most +foolish. How would a man, of his own will, pass as the husband of a +woman he knew not?" + +"A sane man would not; but none knew better than you, Count, that Vrain +was not sane, and that you dosed him with drugs, and let Mrs. Clear keep +him locked up in her house until you put him in the asylum. Vrain was a +puppet in your hands, and you locked him up in an asylum a fortnight +after the man who personated him was murdered. You intended to marry +Mrs. Vrain and keep her wretched husband in that asylum all his life." + +"The best place for a lunatic," said Ferruci. + +"Ah!" cried Lucian. "Then you admit that that Vrain was mad?" + +"I admit nothing, not even that he is alive. If what you say is true," +said the Italian, cunningly, "how came it that the murdered man had the +scar on his cheek? He might have been like Vrain, eh, but not so much." + +"Mrs. Clear explained that," replied Lucian quickly. "You made that +scar, Count, with vitriol, or some such stuff. You don't know chemistry +for nothing, I see." + +"I am quite ignorant of chemistry," said Ferruci sullenly. + +"Jorce heard a different story in Florence." + +"In Florence! Did Jorce ask about me there?" said the Count in alarm. + +"He did, and heard some strange tales, Count. Come, now, it is no use +your trying to evade this matter further. Jorce can prove that you put +Vrain into his asylum under the name of Clear. Miss Vrain can prove that +the so-called Clear is her father, and Mrs. Clear--who has turned +Queen's evidence--has exposed the whole of your conspiracy. The game's +up, Count." + +Ferruci sprang from his seat and began to walk hastily up and down the +room. He looked haggard and pale, and years older, as he recognised his +position, for he saw very plainly that he was trapped, and that nothing +remained to him but flight. But how to fly? He stopped opposite to +Lucian. + +"What do you intend to do?" he demanded in a hoarse voice. + +"Have you arrested, along with Mrs. Vrain," replied Lucian, making this +threat to force Ferruci into defending himself or confessing. + +"Mrs. Vrain is innocent--she knows nothing about this conspiracy, as you +call it. I planned the whole thing myself." + +"You admit, then, that the so-called Vrain was really Michael Clear?" + +"Yes. I got him to personate the man Vrain, so that I could get the +assurance money when I married Lydia. I chose Clear because he was like +Vrain. I made the scar on the cheek, and I thought he would die soon, +being consumptive." + +"And you killed him?" + +"No! No! I swear I did not kill him!" + +"Did you not take that stiletto from Berwin Manor?" + +"No! I never did! I am telling the truth! I do not know who killed +Clear." + +"Did you not visit Wrent in Jersey Street?" + +"Yes. I was the man Rhoda saw in the back yard. I was waiting for Mrs. +Clear, to take her to Hampstead; and in the meantime I thought I would +climb over the fence and see Clear. But the girl saw me, so I ran away, +and joined Mrs. Clear up the road. I was not aware at the time that the +woman who saw me was Rhoda. Afterwards I went to Hampstead with Mrs. +Clear, to see Jorce." + +"Did you buy the cloak?" + +"I did. That girl in Baxter & Co.'s told a lie for me. I was warned by +Mrs. Vrain that you had made questions about the cloak, so I went to the +girl and told her you were a jealous husband, and paid her to say it was +not I who bought the cloak. She did so, quite ignorant of the real +reason I wished her to deny knowing me." + +"Why did you buy the cloak?" asked Lucian, satisfied with this +explanation. + +"I bought it for Wrent. He asked me to buy it, but what he wanted it for +I do not know. He had it some days before Christmas, and, I believe, +gave it to Mrs. Clear, and afterwards to the girl Rhoda. But of this I +am not sure." + +"Who is Wrent?" asked Denzil, reserving the most important question for +the last. + +"Wrent?" said Ferruci, smiling in a sneering way. "Ah! you wish to know +who Wrent is? Well, excuse me for a few minutes, and I'll bring you +something to show who he is." + +With a nod to Lucian he passed into his bedroom, leaving the barrister +much astonished. He thought that Ferruci was Wrent himself, and had gone +away to resume the disguise of wig and beard. While he pondered thus the +Count reappeared, carrying a small bottle in his hand. + +"Mr. Denzil," said he, with a ghastly smile, "I have played a bold game, +and, thanks to a woman's treachery, I have lost. I hoped to get twenty +thousand pounds and a charming wife; but I have gained nothing but +poverty and a chance of imprisonment; but I am of noble birth, and I +will not survive my dishonour. You wish to know who Wrent is--you shall +never know." + +He raised the bottle to his lips before Lucian, motionless with horror, +could rush forward, and the next moment Count Ercole Ferruci was lying +dead on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN + + +That afternoon London was ringing with the news of Ferruci's suicide; +but no paper could give any reason for the rash act. This inability was +due to the police, who, anxious to capture those concerned in the +conspiracy to obtain the assurance money of the Sirius Company, kept +everything they could out of the papers, lest Lydia and Wrent should be +put on their guard, and so escape. + +Lucian had been forced to report the death of Ferruci to the +authorities. Now the case was out of his hands again, and in those of +Link, who blamed the young barrister severely for not having brought him +into the matter before. The detective was always more prone to blame +than to praise. + +"But what could I do?" cried Lucian angrily. "You threw up the case +twice! You said the assassin of Clear--or, as you thought, Vrain--would +never be discovered!" + +"I did my best, and failed," retorted Link, who did not like his +position. "You have had better luck and have succeeded." + +"My luck has been sheer hard work, Link. I was not so faint-hearted as +you, to draw back at the first check." + +"Well, well, the whole truth hasn't been discovered yet, Mr. Denzil. As +you have found out this conspiracy, I may learn who the assassin is." + +"We know that already. The assassin is Wrent." + +"You have yet to prove that." + +"I?" said Lucian, with disdain. "I prove nothing. I wash my hands of the +whole affair. You are a detective; let me see what you will make of a +case which has baffled you twice!" and Denzil, with rage in his heart, +went off, laughing at the discomfiture of Link. + +At that moment the detective hated his successful rival with his whole +heart. + +Lucian took a hansom to the Royal John Hotel in Kensington, where Diana, +in a great state of alarm, was reading the evening papers, which +contained short notices of Ferruci's death. On seeing her lover, she +hurried forward anxiously and caught him by the hand. + +"Lucian, I am so glad you have come!" she cried, leading him to a chair. +"I sent messages both to Geneva Square and Sergeant's Inn, but you were +neither at your lodgings nor in your office." + +"I was better employed, my dear," said Lucian, with a weary sigh, for he +was quite worn out with fatigue and anxiety. "I have been with Link, +telling him about Ferruci's death, and being blamed as the cause of +it." + +"You blamed! And why?" said Diana, with just indignation. + +"Because I forced Ferruci to confess the truth, and when he saw that +there was every chance of his being put into jail for his villainy, he +went to his bedroom and took poison. You know, Mrs. Clear said the man +was something of a chemist, so I suppose he prepared the poison himself. +It was very swift in its action, for he dropped dead before I could +recover my presence of mind." + +"Lucian! this is terrible!" cried Diana, wringing her hands. + +"You may well say that," he replied gloomily. "Now the whole details of +the case will be in the papers, and that unfortunate woman will be +arrested." + +"Lydia! And what will her father say? It will break his heart!" + +"Perhaps; but he must take the consequences of having brought up his +daughter so badly. Still," added Lucian, reflectively, "I do not believe +that Lydia is so guilty as Wrent. That scoundrel seems to be at the +bottom of the affair. Ferruci and he contrived and carried out the whole +thing between them, and a precious pair of villains they are." + +"Will Wrent be arrested?" + +"If he can be found; but I fancy the scoundrel has made himself scarce +out of fright. Since he left Jersey Street, after the murder, he has not +been heard of. Even Mrs. Clear does not know where he is. You know she +has put advertisements in the papers in the cypher he gave +her--according to the arrangement between them--but Wrent has not turned +up." + +"And Rhoda?" + +"Rhoda is still missing. The police are getting warrants out for the +servant, for Wrent, for Mrs. Clear, and for Lydia Vrain. Ferruci, +luckily for himself and his family, has escaped the law by his own act. +It was the wisest thing the scoundrel could do to kill himself and avoid +dishonour. I must admit the man had pluck." + +"It is terrible! terrible! What will be the end of it?" + +"Imprisonment for the lot, I expect, unless they can prove that Wrent +murdered Clear; then they will hang him. But now that Ferruci is dead, I +fancy Rhoda is the only witness who can prove Wrent's guilt. That is why +she ran away. I don't wonder she was afraid to stay. But I feel quite +worn out with all this, Diana. Please give me a biscuit and a glass of +port; I have had nothing all day." + +With a sigh, Diana touched the bell, and when the waiter made his +appearance gave the order. She felt low-spirited and nervous, in spite +of the discovery that her father was alive and well; and indeed the +extraordinary events of the last few days were sufficient to upset the +strongest mind. + +Lucian was leaning back in his chair with closed eyes, for his head was +aching with the excitement of the morning. Suddenly he opened them and +jumped up. At the same time Diana threw open the door with an +exclamation, and both of them heard the thin, high voice of a woman, who +apparently was coming up the stairs. + +"Never mind my name," said the voice, "I'll tell it to Miss Vrain +myself. Take me to her at once." + +"Lydia!" called Lucian, "and here? Great heavens! Why does she come +here?" + +Diana said nothing, but compressed her lips as Lydia, followed by the +waiter with the biscuits and wine, came into the room. She was plainly +and neatly dressed, and wore a heavy veil, but seemed greatly excited. +She did not say a word, nor did Diana, until the waiter left the room +and closed the door. Then she threw up her veil, revealing a haggard +face and red eyes, swollen with weeping, and filled with an expression +of terror. + +"Sakes alive! isn't this awful?" she wailed, making a clutch at Miss +Vrain's arm. "You've done it, this time, Diana. Ferruci's dead, and your +father alive, and I'm not a widow, and my father away I don't know +where! I was told that the police were after me, so I'm clearing out." + +"Clearing out, Mrs. Vrain?" repeated Diana, stiffly. + +"I should think so!" sobbed Lydia. "I don't want to stay and be put in +gaol, though what I've done to be put in gaol for, I don't know." + +"What?" cried Lucian indignantly. "You don't know--when this abominable +conspiracy is----" + +"I know nothing of the conspiracy," interrupted Lydia. + +"Did you not get Ferruci to put your husband into an asylum?" + +"I? I did nothing of the sort. I thought my husband was dead and buried +until Ferruci told me the truth, and then I held my tongue until I could +think of what to do. After Ercole died, his servant came round and told +me all--he overheard the conversation you had with the Count, Mr. +Denzil. I was never so astonished in my life as to hear about Mrs. Clear +and her husband--and Mark alive--and--and--oh, Lord! isn't it dreadful? +Give me a glass of wine, Diana, or I'll go right off in a dead faint!" + +In silence Miss Vrain poured out a glass of port and handed it to her +stepmother, who sipped it in a most tearful mood. Lucian looked at the +wretched little woman without saying a word, and wondered if, indeed, +she was as innocent as she made herself out to be. He thought that, +after all, she might be ignorant of Ferruci's plots, although she had +certainly benefited by them; but she was such a glib liar that he did +not know how much to believe of her story. However, she had hitherto +only given a general idea of her connection with the matter, so when she +had finished her wine, and was somewhat calmer, Lucian begged her to be +more explicit. + +"Did you know--did you guess, or even suspect--that your husband was +alive?" + +"Mr. Denzil," said Lydia, with unusual solemnity, "as I'm a married +woman, and not the widow I thought I was, I did not know that Mark was +alive! I'm bad, I daresay, but I am not bad enough to shut a man up in a +lunatic asylum and pretend he is dead, just to get money, much as I like +it. What I did about identifying the corpse was done in good faith." + +"You really thought it was my father's body?" questioned Diana +doubtfully. + +"I swear I did," responded Mrs. Vrain, emphatically. "Mark walked out of +the house because he thought I was carrying on with Ferruci, which I +wasn't. It was that Tyler cat who made the trouble between us, and Mark +was so weak and silly--half crazy, I think, with his morphia and +over-study--that he cleared right out, and I never knew where he had +gone to. When I saw that notice about the murdered man in Geneva Square, +who called himself Berwin, and was marked on the cheek, I thought he +might be my husband. When the coffin was opened, I really believed I saw +poor Mark's dead body. The face was just like his, and scarred in the +same way." + +"What about the missing finger, Mrs. Vrain? If I remember, you even gave +a cause for its loss." + +"Well, it was this way," replied Lydia, somewhat discomposed. "I knew +that Mark hadn't lost a finger when he left, but Ferruci said that if I +denied it the police might refuse to believe that the body was that of +my husband. So, as I was sure it was Mark's corpse, I just said he had +lost a finger out West. I didn't think there was any harm in saying so, +as for all I knew he might have got it chopped off after leaving me. But +the face of the dead man was--as I thought--Mark's, and he called +himself Berwin, which, you know, Diana, is the name of the Manor, and +the scar was on the cheek. I know now it was all contrived by Ercole; +but then I was quite ignorant." + +"When did you find out the truth?" + +"After that cloak business. Ferruci came to me, and I told him what that +girl at Baxter's had said, and insisted that he should tell me the +truth. Well, he did, in order to force me to marry him, and then I told +him to go and make it right with the girl, so that when Mr. Denzil went +again she'd deny that Ercole had bought the cloak." + +"She denied it, sure enough," said Lucian grimly. "Ferruci, before he +died, told me he had bribed her to speak falsely. What more did the +Count reveal to you, Mrs. Vrain?--the conspiracy?" + +"Yes. He said he'd found Mark hiding at Salisbury, half mad with +morphia, and had taken him up to Mrs. Clear's, where it seems he went +mad altogether, so they locked him up as her husband in a lunatic +asylum. Ferruci also told me that he had seen Michael Clear on the +stage, and that as he was so like Mark, and was likely to die of drink +and consumption, he got him to play the part of Mark in Geneva Square, +under the name of Berwin. Mrs. Clear visited her husband there by +climbing over a back fence, and getting down a cellar, somehow." + +"I know that," said Lucian. "It was Mrs. Clear's shadow I saw on the +blind. She was fighting with her husband, and when I rang the bell they +were both so alarmed that they left the house by the back way and got +into Jersey Street. Then Mrs. Clear went home, and the man himself came +round into the Square by the front way. That was how I met him. I +wondered how people were in the house during his absence. Mrs. Clear +told me all." + +"Did she say why her husband made you examine the house?" asked Diana. + +"No. But I expect he made me do so that I should not have my suspicions +about that back entrance. But, Mrs. Vrain, when Ferruci confessed that +your husband was alive, why did you not tell it to the world?" + +"Well, I'd got the assurance money, you see," said Lydia, with shrewd +candour, "and I thought the company would make a fuss and take it +back--as I suppose they will now. Ferruci wanted me to marry him, but I +wasn't so bad as that. I did not want to commit bigamy. But I really +held my tongue because Ferruci told me who killed Clear." + +"He knew, then?" cried Lucian, "and denied it to me! Who killed the +man?" + +"Wrent did--the man who lived in Jersey Street." + +"And who is at the bottom of the whole plot!" said Lucian furiously. +"Do you know where he is to be found?" + +"Yes," said Lydia boldly, "I do; but I'm not going to tell where he is!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because I don't want him punished." + +"But I do," said Diana angrily. "He is a wretch who ought to suffer!" + +"Very well," said Lydia, loudly and spitefully, "then make him suffer, +for this Wrent is your own father! It was Mark who killed Michael +Clear!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +LINK SETS A TRAP + + +In the course of their acquaintance, Diana had put up with a great deal +from the little American adventuress, owing to her position of +stepmother, but when she heard her accusing the man she had ruined of +murder, the patience of Miss Vrain gave way. She rose quickly, and +walking over to where Lydia was shrinking in her chair, towered in +righteous indignation above the shameless little woman. + +"You lie, Mrs. Vrain!" she said in a low, distinct voice, with a flushed +face and indignation in her eyes. "You know you lie!" + +"I--I only repeat what Ferruci told me," whimpered Lydia, rather alarmed +by the attitude of her stepdaughter. "I'm sure I hope Mark didn't kill +the man, but Ercole said that he was in Jersey Street for that purpose." + +"It is not true! My father was in the asylum at Hampstead!" + +"Indeed he wasn't--not at the time Clear was killed!" protested Lydia. +"He was not put into the asylum until at least two weeks after +Christmas. Is that not so, Mr. Denzil?" + +"It is so," assented Lucian gravely, "but even admitting so much, it is +impossible to believe that Mr. Vrain was in Jersey Street. For many +months before Christmas he was in charge of Mrs. Clear, at Bayswater." + +"So Ercole said," replied Lydia, "but he used to get away from Mrs. +Clear at times, and had to be brought back." + +"He wandered when he got the chance," said Lucian, with hesitation. "I +admit as much." + +"Well, then, when he was not at Bayswater he used to live in Jersey +Street as Wrent. Ferruci found him out there, and tried to get him to go +back, and he took Mrs. Clear several times to the same place in order to +persuade him to return to Bayswater. That was why Mrs. Clear visited +Jersey Street. Oh, Mark played his part there as Mr. Wrent, I guess; +there ain't no two questions about that," finished Lydia triumphantly. +"He is the assassin, you bet!" + +"I don't believe it!" cried Diana furiously. "Why, my father is too weak +in the head to have the will, let alone the courage, to masquerade like +that. He is like a child in leading-strings." + +"That's his cunning, Diana. He's 'cute enough to pretend madness, so +that he won't be hanged!" + +"It is impossible that Vrain can be Wrent," said Lucian decidedly. "I +agree with Miss Vrain; he is too weak and irresponsible to carry out +such a deed. Besides, I don't see how you prove him guilty of the +murder; you do not even know that he could enter the Silent House by the +secret way." + +"I don't know anything about it, except what Count Ferruci told me," +said Lydia obstinately. "And he said that Vrain, as Wrent, killed Clear. +But you can easily prove if it's true or not." + +"How can we prove it?" asked Diana coldly. + +"By laying a trap for Mark. You know--at least Ercole told me, and I +suppose Mrs. Clear told you--that she corresponded with Mark--Wrent, I +mean--in the agony column of the _Daily Telegraph_. + +"By means of a cypher? Yes, I know that, but she hasn't received any +answer yet." + +"Of course not," replied Lydia, with triumph, "because Wrent--that's +Mark, you know--is in the asylum, and can't answer her." + +"This is all nonsense!" broke in Lucian, impatient of this cobweb +spinning. "I don't believe a word of Ferruci's story. If Vrain lived in +Jersey Street as Wrent, why should Mrs. Clear visit him?" + +"To get him back to Bayswater." + +"Nonsense! nonsense! And even admitting as much, why should Mrs. Clear, +in the newspapers, correspond in cypher with a man whom she not only +knows is in an asylum as her husband, but who can be seen by her at any +time?" + +"I quite agree with you, Lucian," cried Diana emphatically. "Count +Ferruci told a pack of falsehoods to Mrs. Vrain! The thing is utterly +absurd!" + +"Oh, I guess I'm not so easily made a fool of as all that!" cried Lydia, +firing up. "If you don't believe me, lay the trap I told you of. Let +Mark go free out of the asylum; get Mrs. Clear, with her cypher and +newspapers, to ask him to meet her in the house where Clear was +murdered, and then you'll see if Mark won't turn up in his character of +Wrent." + +"He will not!" cried Diana vehemently. "He will not!" + +"Mark, when he left me," went on the angry Lydia, "had plenty of hair, +and was clean shaven. Now--as Ferruci told me, for I haven't seen +him--he is bald, and wears a skull-cap of black velvet, and a white +beard. After Ercole told me about Jersey Street I went there to ask that +fat woman about Mark; she said he had gone away two days after +Christmas, and described him as an old man with a skull-cap and a white +beard." + +"Oh!" cried Lucian, for he recollected that Rhoda gave the same +description. + +"Ah! you know I speak the truth!" said Lydia, rising, "but I've had +enough of all this. I've lost my money, and I don't suppose I'll go back +to Mark. I've been treated badly all round, and I don't know what poppa +will say. But I'm going out of London to meet him." + +"You said you did not know where your father was!" cried Diana +scornfully. + +"I don't tell you everything, Diana," retorted Lydia, looking very +wicked, "but, if you must know, poppa went over to Paris last week, and +I'm going over there to meet him. He'll raise Cain for the way I've been +treated." + +"Well," said Lucian, as she prepared to take her leave, "I hope you'll +get away." + +"Do you intend to stop me, Mr. Denzil?" flashed out Mrs. Vrain, +furiously. + +"Not I; but I'll give you a hint--the railway stations will be watched +by the police." + +"For me?" said Lydia, with a scared expression. "Oh, sakes! it's awful! +and I've done nothing. It's not my fault if I got the assurance money. I +really thought that Mark was dead. But I'll try and get away to poppa; +he'll put things right. Good-bye, Mr. Denzil, and Diana; you've done me +a heap of harm, but I don't bear malice," and Mrs. Vrain rushed out of +the room in a great hurry to escape the chance of arrest hinted at by +Lucian. She had a sharp eye to her own safety. + +Diana waited until the cab which Lydia had kept waiting was driving +away, and then turned with an anxious expression on her face to look at +Lucian. "My dear," she said, taking his arm, "what do you think of +Lydia's accusation?" + +"Against your father?" said Lucian. "Why, I don't believe it!" + +"Nor do I; but it will be as well to set the trap she suggests; for if +my father does not fall into it--and as he is not Wrent, I don't believe +he will--the real man may keep the appointment with Mrs. Clear." + +"Whosoever Wrent is, I don't think he'll come again to the Silent +House," replied the barrister, shaking his head. "It would be thrusting +his head into the lion's jaws. If he is in London he'll see the death +of Ferruci described in the papers, and no doubt will guess that the +game is up; so he'll keep away." + +"Nevertheless, we'll do as Lydia suggests," said Diana obstinately. "You +see Mr. Link and Mrs. Clear, and arrange about the cypher. Then my +father is to be discharged as cured to-morrow, and I'll let him go out +if he pleases. Of course, I'll follow him; then I'll be able to see if +he goes to Pimlico." + +"But, Diana, suppose he does go to the Silent House, and proves to be +Wrent?" + +"He won't do that, my dear. My father is no more Wrent than you are. I +believe Lydia speaks in the full belief that he is; but Ferruci, for his +own ends, lied to her. However, to trap the real man, let us do as Lydia +suggests. The idea is a good one." + +"Well, we'll try," said Lucian, with a sigh. "But I do hope, Diana, that +this case will end soon. Every week there is some fresh development in a +new direction, and I am getting quite bewildered over it." + +"It will end with the capture of Wrent, the assassin." + +"I hope so; and God grant Wrent does not prove to be your father!" + +"There is no fear of that," said Diana gravely. "My father is insane +more or less, but he is not a murderer. I am quite content to risk the +trap suggested by that woman." + +Lucian did not at once adopt the plan to net Wrent--whosoever he might +be--invented by Lydia, and approved of by Diana. On the whole, he could +not bring himself to believe that a weak-headed, foolish old creature +like Vrain had masqueraded in Jersey Street as Wrent. Still there were +certain suspicious incidents which fitted in very neatly with Ferruci's +story. Mrs. Clear had stated that Vrain, when under her charge, escaped +several times, and had remained away for several days, until brought +back again by the Count. Again, the appearance of Wrent, as described by +Rhoda, was precisely the same as the looks of Vrain when Lucian saw him +in the Hampstead asylum; so it seemed that there might be some truth in +the story. + +"But it's impossible!" said Lucian to himself. "Vrain is half mad and +incapable of conducting his own life, or arranging so cleverly to commit +a crime. Also he had no money, and, had he lived in Jersey Street, would +not have been able to pay Mrs. Bensusan. There is something more in the +coincidence of this similarity of looks than meets the eye. I'll see +Link and hear what he has to say on the subject. It's time he found out +something." + +The next day Lucian paid a visit to Link, but was not received very +amiably by that gentleman, who proved to be in a somewhat bad temper. He +was not altogether pleased with Lucian finding out more about the case +than he had discovered himself, and also--to further ruffle his +temper--the clever Lydia had given him the slip. He had called at her +Mayfair house with a warrant for her arrest, only to find out +that--having received timely warning from Ferruci's servant--she had +fled. In vain the railway stations had been watched. Lydia, taking the +hint given to her by Lucian, had baffled that peril by taking the Dover +train at a station outside London. + +Lucian heard what Link had to say on the subject, but did not reveal the +fact that Lydia had paid a visit to Diana, or had gone to meet her +father at Dover. He did not want to give the little woman up to justice, +as he was beginning to believe her innocent; and that, in all truth, she +had known nothing of the Ferruci-Wrent conspiracy. + +Therefore, giving no information to Link as to the little woman's +whereabouts, Denzil told--as coming from himself--his idea that Wrent +might fall into a trap set for him in the Pimlico House by means of Mrs. +Clear's cypher. Link listened to the tale attentively, and decided to +adopt the idea. + +"It is a good one," he admitted generously, "and I'm not jealous enough +to cut off my nose to spite my face. You have had the better of me all +through this case, Mr. Denzil, and we have had words over it; but I'll +show you that I can appreciate your cleverness by adopting your plan." + +"I am greatly obliged to you for your good opinion," said Lucian drily, +for he saw with some humour that Link was only too anxious to benefit by +the very cleverness of which he pretended to be so jealous. "And you +will see Mrs. Clear?" + +"Yes; I'll see her at once, and get her to invite Wrent to Pimlico by +that cypher, with a threat that she will betray the whole plot if he +does not come." + +"I daresay he knows already that Mrs. Clear is a traitress?" + +"Impossible!" replied Link quickly. "I have kept Mrs. Clear's name out +of the papers. It is known that Ferruci is dead, and that Mrs. Vrain is +likely to be arrested in connection with her supposed husband's murder. +But the fact of Mrs. Clear putting the real Vrain into the asylum is not +known, nor, indeed, anything about the woman. If Wrent thinks she'll +tell tales, he'll meet her in their own hunting grounds in Geneva +Square, to make his terms. Hitherto he has not replied to her requests +for money, but now he'll think she is driven into a corner, and will fix +her up once and for all." + +"Do you think that Wrent is Vrain?" + +"Good Lord! no!" replied Link, staring. "What put that into your head?" + +Lucian immediately told about the supposed connection between Vrain and +Wrent, but, suppressing that it was Lydia's or Ferruci's idea, based his +supposition on the fact of the resemblance between the two men. Link +heard the theory with scorn, and scouted the idea that the two men could +be one and the same. + +"I've seen Vrain," said he. "The old man is as mad as a March hare and +as silly as a child. He's in his dotage, and could not possibly carry +out such a plan. But we can easily learn the truth." + +"From whom?" asked Lucian. + +"Ah, Mr. Denzil, you are not so clever as you think yourself," scoffed +Link. "Why, from Mrs. Clear, to be sure. She visited at Jersey Street, +and saw Wrent, and as Vrain was then with her in the character of her +husband, she'll be able to tell us if they are two men or one person." + +"You are right, Link. I never thought of that." + +"He! he! Then I can still teach you something," replied Link, in high +good humour at having for once scored off the too clever barrister, and +forthwith went off to see Mrs. Clear. + +How this interview with that lady sped, or what she told him, he refused +to reveal to Lucian; but its result was that a cypher appeared in the +agony column of the _Daily Telegraph_, calling upon Wrent to meet her in +the Silent House in Pimlico, under the penalty of her telling the police +all she knew if he did not come. In the same issue of the paper in which +this message appeared there was a paragraph stating that Mrs. Vrain had +been arrested at Dover. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +WHO FELL INTO THE TRAP? + + +However closely one may study the fair sex, there is no understanding +them in the least. No one can say how a woman will act in a given +situation; for feminine actions are based less on logical foundations +than on the emotion of the moment. + +Diana had never liked Lydia; when the American girl became her +stepmother she hated her, and not only said as much but showed in her +every action that she believed what she said. She declared that she +would be glad to see Lydia deprived of her money and put into jail! The +punishment would be no more than she deserved. + +Yet when these things came to pass; when, by the discovery that Vrain +yet lived, Lydia lost her liberty; and when, as connected with the +conspiracy, she was arrested on a criminal warrant and put into prison, +Diana was the only friend she had. Miss Vrain declared that her +stepmother was innocent, visited her in prison, and engaged a lawyer to +defend her. Lucian could not forbear pointing out the discrepancy +between Diana's past sentiments and her present actions; but Miss Vrain +was quite ready with an excuse. + +"I am only doing my duty," she said. "In herself I like Lydia as little +as ever I did, but I think we have suspected her wrongly in being +connected with this conspiracy, so I wish to help her if possible. And +after all," added Diana, "she is my father's wife," as if that fact +extenuated all. + +"He has reason to know it," replied Lucian bitterly. "If it had not been +for Lydia, your father would not have left his home for a lunatic +asylum, nor would Clear have been murdered." + +"I quite agree with you, Lucian; but some good has come out of this +evil, for if things had not been as they are, you and I would never have +met." + +"Egad! that is true!" said Lucian, kissing her. "It's an ill wind that +blows nobody any good." + +So Diana played the part of a Good Samaritan towards her stepmother, and +helped her to bear the evil of being thrust into prison. Lydia wrote to +her father in Paris, but received no reply, and therefore was without a +friend in the world save Diana. Later on she was admitted to bail, and +Diana took her to the hotel in Kensington, there to wait for the arrival +of Mr. Clyne. His absence and silence were both unaccountable. + +"I hope nothing is wrong with poppa," wept Lydia. "As a rule, he is +always smart in replying, and if he has seen about Ercole's death and my +imprisonment in the papers, I'm sure he will be over soon." + +While she was thus waiting for her father, and Link in every way was +seeking evidence against her, Mrs. Clear received an answer to her +message. In the same column of the _Daily Telegraph_, and in the same +cypher, there appeared a message from Wrent that he would meet Mrs. +Clear at No. 13 Geneva Square. + +Link was delighted when Mrs. Clear showed him this, and rubbed his hands +with much pleasure. Affairs were about to be brought to a crisis, and as +Link was the moving spirit in the matter, his vanity was sufficiently +gratified as to make him quite amiable. + +"We've got him this time, Mr. Denzil," he said, with enthusiasm. "You +and I and a couple of policemen will go down to that house in Geneva +Square--by the front, sir, by the front." + +"Mrs. Clear, also?" questioned Lucian, wishing to be enlightened on all +points. + +"No. She'll come in by the back, down the cellarway, as Wrent expects +her to come. Then he'll follow in the same path and walk right into the +trap." + +"But won't the two be seen climbing over that fence in the daytime?" +asked the barrister doubtfully. + +"Who said anything about the daytime, Mr. Denzil? I did not, and Wrent +knows too much to risk himself at a time that he can be seen from the +windows of the adjacent houses. No! no! The meeting with Mrs. Clear is +to take place in the front room at ten o'clock, when it will be quite +dark. You, I, and the policemen will hide in what was the bedroom, and +listen to what Wrent has to say to Mrs. Clear. We'll give him rope +enough to hang himself, sir, and then pounce out and nab him." + +"Well, he won't show much fight if he is Mr. Vrain." + +"I don't believe he is Mr. Vrain," retorted the detective bluntly. + +"I am doubtful of that, also," admitted Lucian, "but you know Vrain is +now out of the asylum, and, for the time being, has been left to his own +devices. The reply to the cypher did not appear until he was in that +position. Supposing, after all, this mysterious Wrent proves to be this +unhappy man?" + +"In that case, he'll have to pay for his whistle, sir." + +"You mean in connection with the conspiracy?" + +"Yes, and perhaps with the murder of Clear; but we don't know if the +so-called Wrent committed the crime. For such reason, Mr. Denzil, I wish +to overhear what he says to Mrs. Clear. It is as well to give him enough +rope to hang himself with." + +"Can you trust Mrs. Clear?" + +"Absolutely. She knows on which side her bread is buttered. Her only +chance of getting free from her share of the matter is to turn Queen's +evidence, and she intends to do so." + +"What did she say about Vrain being Wrent?" + +"Well, sir," said Link, putting his head on one side, and looking at +Lucian with an odd expression, "you had better wait till the man's +caught before I answer that question. Then, maybe, you won't require an +answer." + +"It is very probable I won't," replied Lucian drily. "What time am I to +see you to-night?" + +"I'll call for you at nine o'clock sharp, and we'll go across to the +house at once. I have the key in my pocket now. Peacock gave it to me +this morning. The scene will be quite dramatic." + +"I hope it won't prove to be Vrain," said Lucian restlessly, for he +thought how grieved Diana would be. + +"I hope not," answered Link curtly, "but there's no knowing. However, if +the old man does get into trouble he can plead insanity. His having been +in the asylum of Jorce is a strong card for him to play. Good-day, Mr. +Denzil. I'll see you to-night at nine o'clock sharp." + +"Good-day," replied Lucian, and the pair parted for the time being. + +Lucian did not go near Diana that day. In the first place, he did not +wish to see Lydia, for whom he had no great love; and in the second, he +was afraid to speak to Diana as to the possibility of her father being +Wrent. + +Diana, as a good daughter should, held firmly to the idea that her +father could not behave in such a way; and as a sensible woman, she did +not think that a man with so few of his senses about him could have +acted the dual part with which he was credited without, in some measure, +betraying himself. + +Lucian was somewhat of this opinion himself, yet he had an uneasy +feeling that Vrain might prove to be the culprit. The fact of Vrain's +being often away from Mrs. Clear's house in Bayswater, and Wrent absent +in the same way from Mrs. Bensusan's house in Jersey Street, appeared +strange, and argued a connection between the two. Again, the resemblance +between them was most extraordinary and unaccountable. + +On the whole, Lucian was not satisfied in his mind as to what would be +the end of the matter, and had he known Mrs. Clear's address he would +have gone to question her about it. But only Link knew where the woman +was to be found, and kept that information to himself--especially from +Denzil. Now that he had the reins once more in his hands, he did not +intend that the barrister should take them again. + +Punctual to the minute, Link, in a state of subdued excitement, came to +Lucian's rooms. Already he had sent his two policemen over to the house, +into which he had instructed them to enter in the quietest and most +unostentatious manner, and now came to escort the barrister across. + +Lucian put on his hat at once, and the two walked out into the dark +night, for dark it was, with no moon, few stars, and a great many +clouds. A most satisfactory night for their purpose. + +"All the better," said Link, casting a look round the deserted square; +"all the better for our little game. I wish to secure this fellow as +quietly as possible. Here's the door open--in with you, Mr. Denzil!" + +According to instructions, a policeman had waited behind the closed +door, and at the one sharp knock of his superior opened it at once so +that the two slipped in as speedily as possible. Link had a +dark-lantern, which he used carefully, so that no light could be seen +from the window looking on to the square; and with his three companions +he went into the back room which had formerly been used by Clear as a +sleeping apartment. Here the two policemen stationed themselves in one +corner; and Link, with Lucian, waited near the door leading into the +sitting-room, so as to be ready for Mrs. Clear. + +All was so dark and lonely and silent that Lucian's nerves became +over-strained, and it was as much as he could do to prevent himself from +trembling violently. In a whisper he conversed with Link. + +"Have you heard anything of that girl Rhoda?" he asked. + +"We have traced her to Berkshire," whispered Link. "She went back to her +gypsy kinsfolk, you know. I dare say we'll manage to lay hands on her +sooner or later." + +"She is an accomplice of Wrent's, I believe." + +"So do I, and I hope to make him confess as much to-night. Hush!" + +Suddenly Link had laid his clasp on Lucian's wrist to command silence, +and the next moment they heard the swish-swish of a woman's dress +coming along the passage. She entered the sitting-room cautiously, +moving slowly in the darkness, and stole up to the door behind which +Lucian and the detective were hiding. The position of this she knew +well, because it was opposite the window. + +"Are you there?" whispered Mrs. Clear nervously. + +"Yes," replied Link in the same tone. "Myself, Mr. Denzil, and two +policemen. Keep the man in talk, and find out, if possible, if he +committed the murder." + +"I hope he won't kill me," muttered Mrs. Clear. "He will, if he knows +I've betrayed him." + +"That will be all right," said Link in a low, impatient voice. "We will +rush out should he prove dangerous. Get over by the window, so that we +can see a little of you and Wrent when you talk." + +"No! no! Don't leave the door open! He'll see you!" + +"He won't, Mrs. Clear. We'll keep back in the darkness. If he shows a +light, we'll rush him before he can use a weapon or clear out. Get back +to the window!" + +"I hope I'll get through with this all right," said Mrs. Clear +nervously. "It's an awful situation," and she moved stealthily across +the floor to the window. + +There was a faint gaslight outside, and the watchers could see her +figure and profile black against the slight illumination. All was still +and silent as the grave when they began their dreary watch. + +The minutes passed slowly in the darkness, and there was an unbroken +silence save for the breathing of the watchers and the restless +movements of Mrs. Clear near the window. They saw her pass and repass +the square of glass, when, unexpectedly, she paused, rigid and silent. + +A stealthy step was ascending the distant stair, and pacing cat-like +along the passage. + +Lucian felt a tremor pass through his body as the steps of the murderer +sounded nearer and clearer. They paused at the door, and then moved +towards the window where Mrs. Clear was standing. + +"Is that you?" said a low voice, which came weirdly out of the darkness. + +"Yes. I have been waiting for the last half hour, Mr. Wrent," replied +the woman in nervous tones. "I am glad you have come." + +"I am glad, also," said the voice harshly, "as I wish to know why you +propose to betray me." + +"Because you won't pay me the money," said Mrs. Clear boldly. "And if +you don't give it to me this very night I'll go straight and tell the +police all about my husband." + +"I'll kill you first!" cried the man with a snarl, and made a dash at +the woman. With a cry for help she eluded him and sprang towards the +bedroom door for protection. The next moment the four watchers were in +the room wrestling with Wrent. When he felt the grip of their hands, and +knew that he was betrayed, he cried out savagely, and fought with the +strength of two men. However, he could do little against his four +adversaries, and, worn out with the struggle, collapsed suddenly on to +the dusty floor with a motion of despair. + +"Lost! lost!" he muttered. "All lost!" + +Breathing hard, Link slipped back the cover of the dark lantern and +turned the light on to the face of the prisoner. Out of the darkness +started a pale face with white hair and long white beard. Lucian uttered +a cry. + +"Mr. Vrain!" he said, shrinking back, "Mr. Vrain!" + +"Look again," said Link, passing his hand rapidly over the face and head +of the prostrate man. Denzil did look, and uttered a second cry more +startling than the first. Wig and beard and venerable looks were all +gone, and he recognised at once who Wrent was. + +"Jabez Clyne!--Jabez Clyne!" he exclaimed in astonishment. + +"Yes!" cried Link triumphantly, "Jabez Clyne, conspirator and assassin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A STRANGE CONFESSION + + +"I, Jabez Clyne, write this confession in my prison cell, of my own free +will, and without coercion from any one; partly because I know that the +evidence concerning my share in the Vrain conspiracy is strong against +me, and partly because I wish to exonerate my daughter Lydia. + +"She is absolutely innocent of all knowledge concerning the feigned +death of her husband and his actual existence in a private lunatic +asylum; and on the strength of this confession of mine--which will fix +the guilt of the matter on the right persons--I demand that she shall be +set free. It is not fair that she should suffer, for I and Ferruci +planned and carried out the whole conspiracy. Well, Ferruci has punished +himself, and soon the law will punish me, so it is only justice that +Lydia should be discharged from all blame. On this understanding I set +out the whole story of the affair--how it was thought of, how it was +contrived, and how it was carried out. Now that Count Ferruci is dead, +this confession can harm no one but myself, and may be the means of +setting Lydia free. So here I begin my recital. + +"I was always an unlucky man, and the end of my life proves to be as +unfortunate as the beginning. I was born in London some fifty and more +years ago, in a Whitechapel slum, of drunken and profligate parents, so +it is little to be wondered at that my career has been anything but +virtuous or respectable. In my early childhood--if it may be called +so--I was beaten and starved, set to beg, forced to thieve, and never +had a kind word said to me or a kind deed done to me. No wonder I grew +up a callous, hardened ruffian. As the twig is bent, so will the tree +grow. + +"Out of this depth of degradation I was rescued by a philanthropist, who +had me fed and clothed and educated. I had at his hands every chance of +leading a respectable life, but I did not want to become smug and +honest. My early training was too strong for that, so after a year or +two of enforced goodness I ran away to sea. The vessel I embarked on as +a stowaway was bound for America. When I was discovered hiding among the +cargo we were in mid-ocean, and there was nothing for it but to carry me +to the States. Still, to earn my passage, I was made cabin-boy to a +ruffianly captain, and once more tasted the early delights of childhood, +viz., kicks, curses, and starvation. When the ship arrived in New York I +was turned adrift in the city without a penny or a friend. + +"It is not my purpose to describe my sufferings, as such description +will do no good and interest nobody; particularly as the purpose of this +confession is to declare the Vrain conspiracy and its failure; so I +will pass over my early years as speedily as possible. To be brief: I +became a newsboy, then a reporter; afterwards I went West and tried my +luck in San Francisco, later on in Texas; but in every case I failed, +and became poorer and more desperate than ever. In New Orleans I set up +a newspaper and had a brief time of prosperity, when I married the +daughter of a hotelkeeper, and for the time was happy. + +"Then the Civil War broke out, and I was ruined. My wife died, leaving +me with one child, whom I called Lydia, after her, but that child died +also, and I was left alone. After the war I prospered again for a time, +and married a woman with money. She also died, and left a daughter, and +this child I again called Lydia, in memory of my first wife, who was the +only woman I ever truly loved. I placed little Lydia in a convent for +education, and devoted my second wife's money to that purpose; then I +started out for the fifth or sixth time to make my fortune. Needless to +say, I did not make it. + +"I pass over a long period of distress and prosperity, hopes and fears. +One day I was rich, the next poor; and Fate--or whatever malignant deity +looked after my poor affairs--knocked me about most cruelly, tossed me +up, threw me down, and at the end of a score of years left me +comparatively prosperous, with an income, in English money, of £500 a +year. With this I returned to Washington to seek Lydia, and found her +grown up into a beautiful and clever girl. Her beauty gave me the idea +that I might marry her well in Europe as an American heiress. So for +Europe we started, and after many years of travel about the Continent we +settled down in the Pension Donizetti in Florence. There Lydia was +admired for her beauty and wit, and courted for her money! But save for +my ten pounds a week, which we eked out in the most frugal manner, we +had not a penny between us. + +"It was in Florence that we met with Vrain and his daughter, who came to +stay at the Pension. He was a quiet, harmless old gentleman, a trifle +weak in the head, which his daughter said came from over-study, but +which I discovered afterwards was due to habitual indulgence in morphia +and other drugs. His daughter watched him closely, and--not having a +will of his own by reason of his weak brain--he submitted passively to +her guidance. I heard by a side wind that Vrain was rich, and had a +splendid mansion in the country; so I hinted to Lydia that as it seemed +difficult to get her a young husband, it would be better for her to +marry a rich old one. At that time Lydia was in love with, and almost +engaged to, Count Ercole Ferruci, a penniless Italian nobleman, who +courted my pretty girl less for her beauty than for her supposed wealth. +When I suggested that Lydia should marry Vrain, she refused at first to +entertain the idea; but afterwards, seeing that the man was old and +weak, she thought it would be a good thing as his wife to inherit his +money, and then, as his widow, to marry Ferruci. I think, also, that the +pointed dislike which Diana Vrain manifested for us both--although I am +bound to say she hated Lydia more than she did me--had a great deal to +do with my daughter marrying Vrain. However, the end of it was that +Lydia broke off her engagement with Ferruci--and very mad he was at +losing her--and married Mark Vrain in Florence. + +"After the marriage the old man, who at that time was quite infatuated +with Lydia, made a will leaving her his assurance money of £20,000, but +the house near Bath, and the land, he left to Diana. I am bound to say +that Lydia behaved very well in this matter, as she could have had all +the money and land, but she was content with the assurance money, and +did not rob Diana Vrain of her birthright. Yet Diana hated her, and +still hates her; but I ask any one who reads this confession if my dear +Lyddy is not the better woman of the two? Who dares to say that such a +sweet girl is guilty of the crimes she is charged with? + +"Well, the marriage took place, and we all journeyed home to Berwin +Manor; but here things went from bad to worse. Old Vrain took again to +his morphia, and nothing would restrain him; then Lydia and Diana fought +constantly, and each wished the other out of the house. I tried to keep +the peace, and blamed Lyddy--who is no saint, I admit--for the way in +which she was treating Diana. With Miss Vrain I got on very well, and +tried to make things easy for her; but in the end the ill-will between +her and my Lydia became so strong that Diana left the house, and went +out to Australia to live with some relatives. + +"So Lydia and I and old Vrain were left alone, and I thought that +everything would be right. So it would have been if Lydia had not put +matters wrong again by inviting Ferruci over to stay. But she would +insist upon doing so, and although I begged and prayed and commanded her +not to have so dangerous a man in the house, she held her own; and in +the face of my remonstrances, and those of her husband, Count Ferruci +came to stay with us. + +"From the moment he entered the house there was nothing but trouble. +Vrain became jealous, and, mad with drugs he took, often treated Lydia +with cruelty and violence, and she came to me for protection. I spoke to +Vrain, and he insulted me, wishing to turn me out of the house; but for +Lydia's sake I remained. Then a Miss Tyler came to stay, and falling in +love with Count Ferruci, grew jealous of Lydia, and made trouble with +Vrain. The end of it was that after a succession of scenes, in which the +old man behaved like the lunatic he was, he left the house, and not one +of us knew where he went to. That was the last Lydia saw of her husband. + +"After that trouble I insisted that Count Ferruci should leave the +house; also Miss Tyler. They both did, but came back at times to pay +Lydia a visit. We tried to find Vrain, but could not, as he had +vanished altogether. Ferruci, I saw, was in love with Lydia, and she +with him, but neither the one nor the other hinted at a future marriage +should Vrain die. I do not say that Lydia was a fond wife to Vrain, but +he treated her so badly that he could not expect her to be; and I dare +say I am the one to blame all through, as I made Lydia marry Vrain when +she loved Ferruci. But I did it all for the best, so as to get money for +my dear girl; and if it has turned out for the worst, my inordinate +affection for my child is to blame. All I have done has been for Lydia's +sake; all Ferruci did was for Lydia's sake, as he truly loved her; but I +swear by all that I hold most holy that Lydia knew not how either of us +was working to secure her happiness. Well, Ferruci is dead, and I am in +jail, so we have paid in full for our wickedness. + +"I had no idea of getting rid of Vrain until one day Ferruci took me +aside and told me that he had found Vrain at Salisbury. He stated that +the man was still taking morphia, but in spite of his excesses had so +strong a constitution that it appeared he would live for many years. The +Count then said that he loved Lydia dearer than life, and wished to +marry her if Vrain could be got out of the way. I cried out against +murder being done, as I never entertained such an idea for a moment; but +Ferruci denied that he wished to harm the man. He wanted him put away in +a lunatic asylum, and when I asked him how even then he could marry +Lydia, he suggested his scheme of substituting a sickly and dying man +for Vrain. The scheme--which was entirely invented by the Count--was as +follows: + +"Ferruci said that in a minor London theatre he had seen an actor called +Clear, who was wonderfully like Vrain, save that he had no scar on the +cheek, and had a moustache, whereas Vrain was always clean-shaved. He +had made the acquaintance of the actor--Michael Clear was his full +name--and of his wife. They proved to be hard up and mercenary, so +Ferruci had no difficulty in gaining over both for his purpose. For a +certain sum of money (which was to be paid to Mrs. Clear when her +husband was dead and the Count, married to Lydia, was possessed of the +assurance money) Clear agreed to shave off his moustache and personate +Vrain. Ferruci, who was something of a chemist, created by means of some +acid a scar on Clear's cheek like that on Vrain's, so that he resembled +my son-in-law in every way save that he had lost one little finger. + +"Ferruci wanted me to join him in the conspiracy so that I could watch +Clear impersonating Vrain, while he himself kept his eye on the real +Vrain, who was to be received into Mrs. Clear's house at Bayswater and +passed off as her husband. All Mrs. Clear wanted was the money, as--long +since wearied of her drunken husband--she did not care if he lived or +died. Clear, on his part, knowing that he could not live long, was quite +willing to play the part of Vrain on condition that he had plenty to eat +and drink, and could live in idleness and luxury. His wishes in this +direction cost us a pretty penny, as he bought everything of the best. + +"To this plot I refused consent until I saw how Vrain was: so when +Ferruci brought him from Salisbury--where he was hiding--to London, I +had an interview with him. He proved to be so stupefied with drugs that +he hardly knew me, so, seeing that my Lydia would get no good out of her +life by being tied to such a husband, I determined that I would assist +Ferruci, on the understanding, of course, that Vrain was to be well +looked after in every way. We agreed that when Clear died, and his body +was identified as Vrain's, that the real man should be put in an asylum, +which was--and I am sure every one will agree with me--the best place +for him. + +"All this being arranged, I went out to look for a house in a secluded +part of the town, in which Clear--under the name of Berwin--should live +until he died as Vrain. I did not wish to see about the house in my new +character, lest I should be recognised, if there was any trouble over +the assurance money; to complicate matters, I determined to disguise +myself as the real Vrain. Of course, Clear personated Vrain as Lydia had +last seen him, that is, clean-shaven, and neat in his dress. But the +real Vrain, neglecting his personal appearance, had cultivated a long, +white beard, and wore a black velvet skull-cap to conceal a baldness +which had come upon him. I disguised myself in this fashion, therefore, +and went to Pimlico under the name of Wrent." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE CONFESSION (_Continued_) + + +"In Geneva Square, Pimlico, I found the house I wanted. It was No. 13, +and was said to be haunted, as cries had been heard in it at night, and +lights had been seen flitting from window to window when no one was in +the house. I looked at it without entering, or calling on the landlord, +and then I went into Jersey Street to see the back. The house in the +same section with it was kept by a Mrs. Bensusan, who took in lodgers. +Her rooms were vacant, and as it suited me very well that I should be a +neighbour to Clear, I took the rooms. They proved--as I shall +explain--better for our purpose than I was aware of. + +"When I told Ferruci of my discovery, he gave Clear money and made him +hire the house and furnish two rooms for himself. I supplied the money. +In this way Clear, calling himself Berwin, which was the name of Vrain's +house in the country, came to live in Pimlico. We also removed the real +Vrain to Mrs. Clear's at Bayswater, and he passed as her husband. So +weak were his brains, and so cowed was his spirit, that there was no +difficulty in keeping him in the house, and the neighbours were told +merely that Clear was ill. + +"For my part, I took up my abode in Jersey Street under the name of +Wrent, and met Clear outside on occasions when it was necessary for me +to see him; but I never entered the house--for obvious reasons. + +"I was constantly afraid lest Clear, in his drunken fits--for he was +always more or less drunk--should reveal our secret, and I took as my +bedroom an apartment in Mrs. Bensusan's out of the window of which I +could overlook the back of No. 13. One night, when I was watching, I saw +a dark figure glide into Mrs. Bensusan's yard and climb over the fence, +only to disappear. I was terribly alarmed, and wondering what was wrong, +I put on my clothes and hurried downstairs into the yard. Also I climbed +over the fence into the yard of No. 13. Here I could not see where the +figure had disappeared to, as the doors and windows at the back of the +house were all locked. I could not conjecture who the woman was--for it +was a woman I saw--who had entered, or why she had done so, or in what +way she had gained admission. + +"While I was thus thinking I saw the woman again. She apparently rose +out of the earth, and after closing what appeared to be a trap-door, she +made for the fence. I stopped her before she got there, and found to my +surprise that she was a red-headed servant of Mrs. Bensusan's--a kind of +gypsy, very clever, and--I think--with much evil in her. She was +alarmed at being discovered, and begged me not to tell on her. For my +own sake, I promised not to do so, but made her explain how she got into +the house, and why she entered it. Then she told me an extraordinary +tale. + +"For some years, she said, she had been with Mrs. Bensusan, who had +taken her from the gypsies to civilise her, and hating the restraint of +civilised life, she had been in the habit of roaming about at night. +Knowing that the house at the back was unoccupied, this Rhoda--for that +is her name--climbed over the fence and tried to get into it, but found +the doors and windows bolted and barred. + +"Then one night she saw a kind of grated window amid the grass, and as +this proved not to be bolted, she pulled it open. Taking a candle with +her, she went on a voyage of discovery, and dropped through this hole +some distance into a disused cellar. Only a cat could have got in +safely, for the height was considerable; and, indeed, Rhoda did not risk +that mode of entrance again, for, finding a ladder in the cellar, which, +I presume, had been used to get at the higher bins of wine, she placed +this against the aperture, and thus was enabled to ascend and descend +without difficulty. Frequently by this means she entered the empty +house, and went from room to room with her candle, singing gypsy songs +as she wandered. So here I had found the ghost of No. 13, although I +don't suppose this impish gypsy girl knew as much. She haunted the +house just to amuse herself, when fat Mrs. Bensusan thought she was +safe in bed. + +"I asked Rhoda why she had entered the house on that particular night +when I had caught her. She confessed that she had seen some articles of +silver in Clear's rooms which she wished to steal; but on this occasion +he had locked the door--a thing which he did not always do in his +drunken humours--and so Rhoda was returning disappointed. After this +confession I made her go back to her own house and promised to keep her +secret. I also told her that if she held her tongue I would give her a +present. For this purpose I made Ferruci buy me a cloak lined with +rabbit skins, as Rhoda on her night excursions wanted something to keep +her warm. When Ferruci gave it to me, and it was lying in my room, Mrs. +Clear came one night to see me, and finding it cold, she borrowed the +cloak to wrap round her. She kept it for some time, and brought it back +on Christmas Eve, when I gave it next day to Rhoda. It was Ferruci who +bought the cloak, not I; and it was purchased for Rhoda, not for Mrs. +Clear. + +"The next night I entered No. 13 by the cellarway, and found it of great +advantage, as I could visit Clear without exciting suspicion, and so +keep an eye on him. At first he was alarmed by my unexpected appearance, +but when I showed him the secret way, he made use of it also. We used it +only on dark nights, and it was for this reason that we were not noticed +by the neighbours. It would never have done for any one of us to be +seen climbing over the fence. Mrs. Clear once visited her husband, and +had a quarrel with him about his drinking. It was her shadow and Clear's +which Denzil saw on the blind. As soon as they heard his ring they both +went out the back way, and in climbing hurriedly over the fence Mrs. +Clear tore her veil. It was a portion of this which Denzil found. + +"On that night, Clear, after leaving his wife, entered the square by the +front, and so met with Denzil, much to the latter's surprise. I was very +angry when Clear showed Denzil over the house; but he said that the +young man was very suspicious, and he only showed him the house to prove +that there was no one in it, and that he must have been mistaken about +the shadows on the blind. Notwithstanding this explanation, I did not +approve of Clear's act, nor, indeed, of his acquaintance with Denzil. + +"For some months matters went on in this way. Clear remained in the +Silent House, drinking himself to death; Mrs. Clear looked after Vrain +in her Bayswater house; and I, in my old-man disguise, remained in +Jersey Street, although at times I left there and went to see my +daughter. All this time Lydia had no idea of what we were preparing. +Then I began to grow wearied of the position, for Clear proved tougher +than we anticipated, and showed no signs of dying. In despair, I thought +I would give him the means to kill himself. + +"Mind, I did not wish to murder him myself; but the man, when in his +drinking fits, thought he was attacked by enemies, and when in a +melancholic frame of mind, on recovery, would frequently hint at +suicide. I therefore thought that if a weapon were left within his reach +he might kill himself. I don't defend my conduct in this case, but +surely this drunken scoundrel was better dead than alive. In choosing a +weapon, I wished to select one that would implicate Ferruci rather than +myself, in case there was any trouble over the matter; so I chose for my +purpose a stiletto which hung by a parti-coloured ribbon on the walls of +the library at Berwin Manor. I fancied that the stiletto, having been +bought in Florence, and Ferruci coming from Florence, he, if +anyone--should any of these facts come to light--would be credited with +giving it to Clear. + +"I took this stiletto from Berwin Manor some time before Christmas, and, +bringing it up to town, I left it, on the day before Christmas, on the +table in Clear's sitting-room. That was at nine o'clock in the night, +and that was when I last saw him alive. Who killed him I know no more +than any one else. + +"On Christmas Eve I was ill, and wrote to Lydia to come up. She met me +at the Pegalls', but as I felt ill, I left there at six o'clock, and +Lydia stayed with the family all night. At seven o'clock Mrs. Clear came +to me with Ferruci, and brought back the cloak which I gave afterwards +to Rhoda. She wanted to see her husband again, but I refused to let her +risk the visit. Ferruci came to tell me that he was arranging to place +Vrain--who was becoming too violent to be restrained--in the private +asylum of Dr. Jorce, at Hampstead. Mrs. Clear was to go with him, and we +conversed about the matter. + +"Ferruci went away first, as he desired to see Clear, and for that +purpose waited about until it was darker, and went into the back yard +shortly after eight o'clock. There he was seen by Rhoda as he was about +to climb the fence, and, not knowing it was the girl, he took fright and +ran out of the yard into Jersey Street. Here he found Mrs. Clear, who +had left me and was waiting for him, and the pair went off to see Dr. +Jorce at Hampstead. I believe they remained there all night. + +"Left alone, I climbed over the fence about nine o'clock, and saw Clear. +He was celebrating Christmas Eve by drinking heavily, and I was unable +to bring him to reason. I therefore left the stiletto which I had +brought with me on the table, and returned to my house in Jersey Street. +I never saw him alive again. I went to bed and slept all night, so I was +aware of nothing in connection with the death until late on Christmas +Day. Then Mrs. Bensusan was told by Miss Greeb, the landlady of Denzil, +that the tenant of No. 13 had been murdered. I fancied that he had +killed himself in a fit of melancholia, with the stiletto I had left on +his table; but I did not dare to go near the house to find this out. + +"Afterwards I learned that the doctor who examined the body was of the +opinion that Clear had been murdered; and, being afraid about the police +taking up the case, I paid Mrs. Bensusan a week's rent and left her +house two days after Christmas. I returned to Berwin Manor, and shortly +afterwards Ferruci joined me there, as he had successfully incarcerated +Vrain in the asylum under the name of Michael Clear. + +"When the advertisement came out, it was I who hinted to Lydia that the +dead man--seeing that he was called Berwin--might be her husband. We +went up to town: Lydia identified the body of Clear as her husband in +all innocence--for after death the man looked more like Vrain than ever; +and in due time the assurance money was obtained. + +"I do not think there is anything more to tell, save that I did not know +that Mrs. Clear had betrayed me. I could not pay her the money, as I +could not get it from Lydia. I told Lydia I was going to Paris, but in +reality I was hunting for Rhoda, who had run away from Jersey Street. I +fancied she might betray us, and wished to make things safe with her. +Before I found her, however, I saw in the papers that Ferruci had +committed suicide; also that Lydia--who had gone to Dover to meet me, +thinking I was returning from Paris--had been arrested. Then I saw Mrs. +Clear's advertisement saying she would betray me if I did not pay the +money. I consented to meet her in order to implore her silence, and so +fell into the clutches of the law. + +"I may state that I did not kill Clear, as I never saw him after nine +o'clock, and then he was alive. In spite of what the doctor said, I am +still inclined to think he killed himself. Now I have made a clean +breast of it--I am willing to be punished; but I hope Lydia will be set +free, for whosoever is guilty, she is innocent. I have been an unlucky +man, and I remain one at this moment when I sign myself for the last +time, + JABEZ CLYNE." + + * * * * * + +Needless to say, both Link and Denzil were greatly surprised at this +confession, which revealed all things save the one they wished to know. + +"What do you think of this idea of suicide?" asked Lucian. + +"It is quite out of the question," replied the detective decidedly. "The +doctor who examined the body said that it was impossible the man could +have committed suicide. The position of the wound shows that; also the +power of the stroke. No man could drive a stiletto so dexterously and +strongly into the heart. Also the room was in confusion, which points to +a struggle, and the stiletto is missing. It was not suicide, but murder, +and I believe either Clyne or Ferruci killed the man." + +"But Ferruci was not----" + +"He was not there after ten," interrupted Link, "but he was there about +eight. I dare say when Rhoda saw him he was coming back after having +committed the deed, and Clyne says the stiletto was not there at the +time just to screen him." + +"It is of little use to screen the dead," said Lucian. "I think only one +person can tell the truth about this murder, and that is Rhoda." + +"I'm looking for her, Mr. Denzil." + +This was easy saying, but harder doing, for weeks passed away, and in +spite of all the efforts of the police Rhoda could not be found. Then +one morning the detective, much excited, burst into Lucian's rooms +waving a paper over his head. + +"A confession!" he cried. "Another confession!" + +"Of whom?" asked Lucian, surprised. + +"Of Rhoda!" replied Link excitedly. "She has confessed! It was Rhoda who +killed Michael Clear!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY + + +Of all the news concerning the truth of Clear's death, this was the last +which Lucian expected to hear. He stood staring at the excited face of +the detective in wide-eyed surprise, and for the moment could not find +his voice. + +"It is true, I tell you!" cried Link, sitting down and smoothing out the +paper which he carried. "Rhoda, and none other, killed the man!" + +"Are you sure, Link?" + +"Of course I am. This," flourishing the paper, "is her dying +confession." + +"Her dying confession?" repeated the barrister blankly. "Is she dead, +also?" + +"Yes. It is a long story, Mr. Denzil. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you. +As you have had so much to do with the beginning of the case, it is only +fair that you should know the end, and a strange end it is." + +Without a word Lucian sat down, feeling quite confused, for in no way +could he guess how Clear had come by his death at the hands of Rhoda. He +had suspected Lydia as guilty of the crime; he had credited Ferruci +with its commission, and he had been certain of the guilt of Clyne, +_alias_ Wrent; but to discover that the red-headed servant was the +culprit entirely bewildered him. She had no motive to kill the man; she +had given evidence freely in the matter, and in all respects had acted +as an innocent person. So this was why she had left Jersey Street? It +was a fear of being arrested for the crime which had driven her into the +wilds. But, as Lucian privately thought, she need not have fled, for--so +far as he could see--beyond the startling announcement of Link, there +was no evidence to connect her with the matter. It was most +extraordinary. + +"I see you are astonished," said Link, with a nod; "so was I. Of all +folk, I least suspected that imp of a girl. The truth would never have +been known, had she not confessed at the last moment; for even now I +cannot see, on the face of it, any evidence--save her own confession--to +inculpate her in the matter. So you see, Mr. Denzil, the mystery of this +man's death, which we have been so anxious to solve, has not been +explained by you, or discovered by me, but has been brought to light by +chance, which, after all, is the great detective. You may well look +astonished," repeated the man slowly; "I am--immensely." + +"Let me hear the confession, Link!" + +"Wait one moment. I'll tell you how it came to be made, and then I'll +relate the story in my own fashion, as the way in which the confession +is written is too muddled for you to understand clearly. Still, it +shows plainly enough that Clyne, for all our suspicions, is innocent." + +"And Rhoda, the sharp servant girl, guilty," said Lucian, reflectively. +"I never should have thought that she was involved in the matter. How +the deuce did she come to confess?" + +"Well," said Link, clearing his throat as a preliminary to his +narrative, "it seems that Mr. Bensusan, in a fit of philanthropy, picked +up this wretched girl in the country. She belonged to some gypsies, but +as her parents were dead, and the child a burden, the tribe were glad to +get rid of her. Rhoda Stanley--that is her full name--was taken to +London by Mrs. Bensusan, who tried to civilise her." + +"I don't think she succeeded very well, Link. Rhoda, with her cunning +ways and roaming about at night, was always a savage at heart. In spite +of what Clyne says in his confession, I believe she took a delight in +turning No. 13 into a haunted house with her shrieking and her flitting +candles. How she must have enjoyed herself when she heard the talk about +the ghost!" + +"I have no doubt she did, Mr. Denzil, but even those delights wearied +her, and she longed to get back to the free gypsy life. When she +found--through you, sir--that the police wanted to know too much about +Clear's death, she left Mrs. Bensusan in the lurch, and tramped off down +to the New Forest, where she picked up again with her tribe." + +"How did her mistress take her desertion?" + +"Very much to heart, as she had treated the young savage very kindly, +and ought to have received more gratitude. Perhaps when she hears how +her adopted child wandered about at night, and ended by killing Clear, +she will be glad she is dead and buried. Yet, I don't know. Women are +wonderfully soft-hearted, and certainly Rhoda is thought no end of by +that fat woman." + +"Well! well!" said Lucian, impatient of this digression. "So Rhoda went +back to her tribe?" + +"Yes, sir; and as she was sharp, clever, and, moreover, came with some +money which she had stolen from Mrs. Bensusan--for she added theft to +ingratitude--she was received with open arms. With her gypsy cousins she +went about in the true gypsy style, but, not being hardened to the +outdoor life in wet weather, she fell ill." + +"Civilisation made her delicate, I suppose," said Denzil grimly. + +"Exactly; she was not fit for the tent life after having lived for so +long under a comfortable roof. She fell ill with inflammation of the +lungs, and in a wonderfully short space of time she died." + +"When did she confess her crime?" + +"I'm coming to that, sir. When she was dying she sent two gypsies to the +nearest magistrate--who happened to be the vicar of the parish in which +the tribe were then encamped--and asked him to see her on a matter of +life and death. The vicar came at once, and when he became aware that +Rhoda was the girl wanted in the Vrain case--for he had read all about +her in the papers--he became very interested. He took down the +confession of the wretched girl, had it signed by two witnesses and +Rhoda herself, and sent it up to Scotland Yard." + +"And this confession----" + +"Here it is," said Link, pointing to the manuscript on the table; "but +it is too long to read, so I shall just tell you briefly what Rhoda +confessed, and how she committed the crime." + +"Go on! I am most anxious to hear, Link!" + +"Well, Mr. Denzil, you know that Rhoda was in the habit of visiting No. +13 by night and amusing herself by wandering about the empty rooms, +although I don't know what pleasure she found in doing so. It seems that +when Clear became the tenant of the house, Rhoda was very angry, as his +presence interfered with her midnight capers. However, on seeing his +rooms--for Clear found her one night, and took her in to show them to +her--she was filled with admiration, and with true gypsy instinct wanted +to steal some of the ornaments. She tried to pocket a silver paper-knife +on that very night Clear was so hospitable to her, but she was not sharp +enough, and the man saw the theft. In a rage at her dishonesty he turned +her out of the room, and swore that he would thrash her if she came into +his presence again." + +"Did the threat keep Rhoda away?" + +"Not it. I am sure you saw enough of that wildcat to know nothing would +frighten her. She certainly did not thrust herself personally on Clear, +but whenever his back was turned she took to stealing things out of his +room, when he was foolish enough to leave the door open. Clear was much +enraged, and complained to Clyne--known to Rhoda as Wrent--who in his +turn read the girl a sharp lecture. + +"But having shown Clyne the cellarway into the house, Miss Rhoda knew +too much, and laughed in Clyne's face. He did not dare to make her +thefts public, or complain to Mrs. Bensusan, lest Rhoda should tell of +the connection between him and the tenant of the Silent House, who +passed under the name of Berwin. Therefore, he told Clear to keep his +sitting-room door locked." + +"A wise precaution, with that imp about," said Lucian. "I hope Clear was +sensible enough to adopt it." + +"Yes, and no. When he was sober he locked the door, and when drunk he +left it open, and Rhoda looted at will. And now comes the more important +part of the confession. You remember that Clyne left the stiletto from +Berwin Manor on Clear's table?" + +"Yes, with the amiable intention that the poor devil should kill +himself. He left it on Christmas Eve, too--a pleasant time for a man to +commit suicide!" + +"Of course, the intention was horrible!" said Mr. Link, gravely. "Some +people might think such an act incredible; but I have seen so much of +the worst side of human nature that I am not surprised. Clyne was too +cowardly to kill the man himself, so he thought to make Clear his own +executioner by leaving the stiletto in his way. Well, sir, the weapon +proved to be useful in the way it was intended by Clyne, for Clear was +killed with that very weapon." + +"And by Rhoda!" said Lucian, nodding. "I see! How did she get hold of +it?" + +"By accident. When Wrent--I mean Clyne--and Mrs. Bensusan went to bed on +Christmas Eve, Rhoda thought she would have some of her devil dances in +the haunted house; so she slipped out of bed and into the yard, and +dropped down into the cellar, whence she went up to Clear's rooms." + +"Was Clear in bed?" + +"No; but he was in his bedroom, and, according to Rhoda, furiously +drunk. You know that Clyne said the man had been drinking all day. On +this night he had left his sitting-room door open, and the lamp burning. +On the table was the silver-handled stiletto, with the ribbon; and when +Rhoda peered into the room to see what she could pick up, she thought +she would like this pretty toy. She stole forward softly and took the +stiletto, but before she could get back to the door, Clear, who had been +watching her, reeled out and rushed at her." + +"Did she run away?" + +"She couldn't. Clear was between her and the door. She ran round the +room, upsetting everything, for she thought he would kill her in his +drunken rage. Don't you remember, Mr. Denzil, how disorderly the room +was? Well, Clear got Rhoda into a corner, and was going to strike her; +she had the stiletto still in her hand, and held it point outward to +save herself from the blow. She thought when he saw the weapon he would +not dare to come nearer. However, either he did not see the stiletto, or +was too drunk to feel fear, for he stumbled and fell forward, so that +the dagger ran right into his heart. In a moment he fell dead, before he +had time, as Rhoda says, to even utter a cry." + +"So it was an accident, after all?" said Lucian. + +"Oh, yes, quite an accident," replied Link, "and I can see very plainly +how it took place. Of course, Rhoda was terrified at what she had +done--although she really was not to blame--and leaving the dead man, +ran away with the stiletto. She dropped the ribbon off it near the +cellar door as she was running away, and there Mrs. Kebby found it." + +"What did she do with the stiletto?" + +"She had it in her room, and when she left Mrs. Bensusan she carried it +with her down the country. In proof of the truth, she gave it to the +vicar who wrote down her confession, and he sent it up with the papers +to Scotland Yard. Queer case, isn't it?" + +"Very queer, Link. I thought everybody was guilty but Rhoda." + +"Ah!" said the detective, significantly, "it is always the least +suspected person who is guilty. I could have sworn that Clyne was the +man. Now it seems that he is innocent, so instead of hanging he will +only be imprisoned for his share in the conspiracy." + +"He may escape that way," said Lucian drily, "but, morally speaking, I +regard him as more guilty than Rhoda." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE END OF IT ALL + + +Two years after the discovery of Rhoda's guilt, Mr. and Mrs. Denzil were +seated in the garden of Berwin Manor. It was a perfect summer evening, +at the sunset hour, something like that evening when, in the same +garden, almost at the same time, Lucian had asked Diana to be his wife. +But between then and now twenty-four months had elapsed, and many things +had taken place of more or less importance to the young couple. + +The mystery of Clear's death had been solved; Lydia had been set free as +innocent of crime; her father, found guilty of conspiracy to obtain the +assurance money, had been condemned to a long term of imprisonment, and, +what most concerned Lucian and Diana, Mark Vrain had really and truly +gone the way of all flesh. + +After the conclusion of the Vrain case Lucian had become formally +engaged to Diana, but it was agreed between them that the marriage +should not take place for some time on account of her father's health. +After his discharge as cured from the asylum of Dr. Jorce, Miss Vrain +had taken her father down to his own place in the country, and there +tended him with the most affectionate solicitude, in the hope that he +would recover his health. But the hope was vain, for by his +over-indulgence in morphia, his worrying and wandering, and irregular +mode of life, Vrain had completely shattered his health. He lapsed into +a state of second childhood, and, being deprived of the drugs which +formerly had excited him to a state of frenzy, sank into a pitiable +condition. For days he would remain without speaking to any one, and +even ceased to take a pleasure in his books. Finally his limbs became +paralysed, and so he spent the last few months of his wretched life in a +bath-chair, being wheeled round the garden. + +Still, his constitution was so strong that he lived for quite twelve +months after his return to his home, and died unexpectedly in his sleep. +Diana was not sorry when he passed so easily away, for death was a +merciful release of his tortured soul from his worn-out body. So Mark +Vrain died, and was buried, and after the funeral Diana went abroad, +with Miss Priscilla Barbar for a companion. + +In the meantime, Lucian stayed in grimy, smoky London, and worked hard +at his profession. He was beginning to be known, and in time actually +received a brief or two, with which he did his best in court. Still, he +was far from being the successful pleader he hoped to be, for law, of +all professions, is one which demands time and industry for the +attainment of any degree of excellence. It is rarely that a young +lawyer can go to sleep and wake to find himself famous; he must crawl +rather than run. With diligence and punctuality, and observance of every +chance, in time the wished-for goal is reached, although that goal, in +nine cases out of ten, is a very moderate distance off. Lucian did not +sigh for a judgeship, or for a seat on the Woolsack; he was content to +be a barrister with a good practice, and perhaps a Q.C.-ship in +prospect. However, during the year of Diana's mourning he did so well +that he felt justified in asking her to marry him when she returned. +Diana, on her side, saw no obstacle to this course, so she consented. + +"If you are not rich, my dear, I am," she said, when Lucian alleged his +poverty as the only bar to their union, "and as money gives me no +pleasure without you, I do not care to stay in Berwin Manor in lonely +spinsterhood. I shall marry you whenever you choose." + +And Lucian, taking advantage of this gracious permission, did choose to +be married, and that speedily; so within two years after the final +closing of the Vrain case they became man and wife. At the time they +were seated in the garden, at the hour of sunset, they had only lately +returned from their honeymoon, and were now talking over past +experiences. Miss Priscilla, who had been left in charge of the Manor +during their absence, had welcomed them back with much joy, as she +looked upon the match as one of her own making. Now she had gone inside, +on the understanding that two are company and three are none, and the +young couple were left alone. Hand in hand, after the foolish fashion of +lovers, they sat under a leafy oak tree, and the sunlight glowed redly +on their happy faces. After a short silence Lucian looked at the face of +his wife and laughed. + +"What is amusing you, dear?" said Mrs. Denzil, with a sympathetic smile. + +"My thoughts were rather pleasant than amusing," replied Lucian, giving +the hand that lay in his a squeeze, "but I was thinking of Hans +Andersen's tale of the Elder Mother Tree, and of the old couple who sat +enjoying their golden wedding under the linden, with the red sunlight +shining on their silver crowns." + +"We are under an oak and wear no crowns," replied Diana in her turn, +"but we are quite as happy, I think, although it is not our golden +wedding." + +"Perhaps that will come some day, Diana." + +"Fifty years, my dear; it's a long way off yet," said Mrs. Denzil +dubiously. + +"I am glad it is, for I shall have (D.V.,) fifty years of happiness with +you to look forward to. Upon my word, Diana, I think you deserve +happiness, after all the trouble you have had." + +"With you I am sure to be happy, Lucian, but other people, poor souls, +are not so well off." + +"What other people?" + +"Jabez Clyne, for one." + +"My dear," said Lucian, seriously, "I hope I am not a hard man, but I +really cannot find it in my heart to pity Clyne. He was--and I dare say +is--a scoundrel!" + +"I don't deny that he acted badly," sighed Diana, "but it was for his +daughter's sake, you know." + +"There is a limit even to paternal affection, Diana. And putting aside +the wickedness of the whole conspiracy, I cannot pardon a man who +deliberately put a weapon in the way of a man almost insane with drink, +in order that he might kill himself. The idea was diabolically wicked, +my dear, and I think that Jabez Clyne, _alias_ Wrent, quite deserves the +long imprisonment he received." + +"At all events, the Sirius Company got back their money, Lucian." + +"So much as Lydia had not spent they got back, Diana; but when your +father actually died they had to part with it very soon again, and some +of it has gone into Lydia's pocket after all." + +Diana blushed. "It was only right, dear," she said, apologetically. +"When my father made his new will, leaving it all to me, I did not think +that Lydia, however badly she treated him, should be left absolutely +penniless. And you know, Lucian, you agreed that I should share the +assurance money with her." + +"I did," replied Denzil. "Of two evils I chose the least, for if Lydia +had not got a portion of the money she would have been quite capable of +trying to upset the second will on the ground that Mr. Vrain was +insane." + +"Papa was not insane," reproved Diana. "He was weak, I admit, but at +the time he made that will he had all his senses. Besides, after all the +scandal of the case, I don't think Lydia would have dared to go to law +about it. Still, it was best to give her the money, and I hear from Miss +Priscilla that Lydia is now in Italy, and proposes to marry an Italian +prince." + +"She has flown higher than a count, then. Poor Ferruci killed himself +for her sake." + +"For his own, rather," exclaimed Mrs. Denzil energetically. "He knew +that if he lived he would be punished by imprisonment, so chose to kill +himself rather than suffer such dishonour. I believe he truly loved +Lydia, certainly, but as he wanted the assurance money, I fancy he +sinned quite as much for his own sake as for Lydia's." + +"No doubt; and I dare say Lydia loved him, after her own fashion; yet +she seems to have forgotten him pretty soon, and--as you say--intends to +marry a prince. I don't envy his highness." + +"She has no heart, so I dare say she will be happy as such women ever +are," said Diana contemptuously, "yet her happiness comes out of much +evil. If she had not married my father, her own would not now be in +prison, nor would Count Ferruci and Rhoda be dead." + +"Ferruci, perhaps, might still be alive, and her husband," assented +Lucian, "but I have my doubts about Rhoda. She was a wicked, precocious +little imp, that girl, and sooner or later would have come to a bad end. +The death of Clear was due to an accident, I admit; but Rhoda has still +one person who laments over her, for, although Mrs. Bensusan knows the +truth, she always thinks of that red-haired minx as a kind of martyr, +who was led into wicked ways by Clyne, _alias_ Wrent." + +"I am sure Mrs. Clear doesn't think so." + +"Mrs. Clear has got quite enough to think about in remembering how +narrowly she escaped imprisonment for her share in that shameful +conspiracy. If she had not turned Queen's evidence, she would have been +punished as Clyne was; as it is, she just escaped by an accident. Still, +if it had not been for her, we should never have discovered the truth. I +would never have suspected Clyne, who was always so meek and mild. Even +that visit he paid to me to lament over his daughter's probable marriage +to Ferruci was a trick to find out how much I knew." + +"Don't you think he hated Ferruci?" + +"No; I am sure he did not. He acted a part to find out what I was doing. +If Mrs. Clear had not betrayed him we should never have discovered the +conspiracy." + +"And if Rhoda had not spoken, the mystery of Clear's death would never +have been solved," said Diana, "although she only confessed at the +eleventh hour, and when she was dying." + +"I think Link was pleased that the mystery was solved in so unexpected a +way," said Lucian, laughing. "He never forgave my finding out so much +without his aid. He ascribes the ending of the whole matter to chance, +and I dare say he is right." + +"H'm!" said Mrs. Denzil, who had no great love for the detective. "He +certainly left everything to chance. Twice he gave up the case.". + +"And twice I gave it up," said Denzil. "If it had not been for you, +dear, I should never have gone on with what seemed to be a hopeless +task. But when I first met you you induced me to continue the search for +the culprit, and again when, by the evidence of the missing finger, you +did not believe your father was dead." + +"Well, you worked; I worked; Link worked," said Diana, philosophically, +"and we all three did our best to discover the truth." + +"Only to let chance discover it in the long run." + +Diana laughed and nodded, but did not contradict her husband. "Well, my +dear," she said, "I think we have discussed the subject pretty freely, +but there is one thing I should like to know. What about the Silent +House in Pimlico?" + +"Oh, Miss Greeb told me the other day that Peacock is going to pull it +down. You know, just before we were married I took leave of Miss Greeb, +with whom I lodged for a long time. Well, she gave me a piece of news. +She is going to be married, also, and to whom, do you think?" + +"I don't know," said Diana, looking interested, as women always do in +marriage news. + +"To Peacock, who owns nearly all the property in and about Geneva +Square. It will be a splendid match for her, and Mrs. Peacock, will be +much richer than you or I, Diana." + +"But not happier, my dear. I am glad she is to be married, as she seemed +a nice woman, and made you very comfortable. But why is the Silent House +to be pulled down?" + +"Because no one will live in it." + +"But it is not haunted now. You know it was discovered that Rhoda was +the ghost, and the ghost, as Miss Greeb suggested, killed Clear." + +"It is haunted now by the ghost of Clear," said Lucian gravely. "At all +events, he was murdered there, and no one cares to live in the house. I +confess I shouldn't care to live in it myself. So, Peacock, finding the +house unprofitable, has determined to pull it down." + +"So there is an end to the Silent House of Pimlico," said Diana, rising +and taking her husband's arm. "Come inside, Lucian. It grows chilly." + + "'Tho' winds be cold and nights be drear, + Yet love makes warm our hearts, my dear,'" + +quoted Lucian, as they went up to the house. "That is not very good +poetry, but it is a beautiful truth, my love." + +Diana laughed, and looked up proudly into the bright face of her +husband. + +So they went inside, and found that Miss Priscilla had made the tea, and +all were very happy, and very thankful for their happiness. In this +condition, which is sufficiently pleasant, I think we may leave them. + + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Silent House, by Fergus Hume + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SILENT HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 19069-8.txt or 19069-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/6/19069/ + +Produced by Geetu Melwani, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Silent House + +Author: Fergus Hume + +Release Date: August 17, 2006 [EBook #19069] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SILENT HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Geetu Melwani, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h2>THE SILENT HOUSE</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>FERGUS HUME</h2> + + +<h4>New York<br /> +C. H. DOSCHER</h4> + +<h5>Copyright, 1907, by<br /> +C. H. DOSCHER</h5> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 244px;"><img src="images/cover_tb.jpg" width="295" height="400" alt="Book Cover" title="Book Cover" /></div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr> +<td></td><td></td><td class =" number"><b>Page</b></td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a>—<span class="smcap">The Tenant of the Silent House</span></td><td class ="number">1</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a>—<span class="smcap">Shadows on the Blind</span></td><td class ="number">10</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a>—<span class="smcap">An Unsatisfactory Explanation</span></td><td class ="number">20</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a>—<span class="smcap">Mrs. Kebby's Discovery</span></td><td class ="number">29</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a>—<span class="smcap">The Talk of the Town</span></td><td class ="number">38</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a>—<span class="smcap">Mrs. Vrain's Story</span></td><td class ="number">47</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a>—<span class="smcap">The Assurance Money</span></td><td class ="number">56</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a>—<span class="smcap">Diana Vrain</span></td><td class ="number">65</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a>—<span class="smcap">A Marriage That Was a Failure</span></td><td class ="number">74</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a>—<span class="smcap">The Parti-Coloured Ribbon</span></td><td class ="number">83</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a>—<span class="smcap">Further Discoveries</span></td><td class ="number">93</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a>—<span class="smcap">The Veil and Its Owner</span></td><td class ="number">101</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a>—<span class="smcap">Gossip</span></td><td class ="number">111</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a>—<span class="smcap">The House in Jersey Street</span></td><td class ="number">121</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a>—<span class="smcap">Rhoda and the Cloak</span></td><td class ="number">131</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a>—<span class="smcap">Mrs. Vrain at Bay</span></td><td class ="number">141</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a>—<span class="smcap">A Denial</span></td><td class ="number">151</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a>—<span class="smcap">Who Bought the Cloak?</span></td><td class ="number">160</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a>—<span class="smcap">The Defence of Count Ferruci</span></td><td class ="number">169</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a>—<span class="smcap">A New Development</span></td><td class ="number">179</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a>—<span class="smcap">Two Months Pass</span></td><td class ="number">187</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII</a>—<span class="smcap">At Berwin Manor</span></td><td class ="number">196</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII</a>—<span class="smcap">A Startling Theory</span></td><td class ="number"> 206</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV</a>—<span class="smcap">Lucian Is Surprised</span></td><td class ="number"> 215</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV</a>—<span class="smcap">A Dark Plot</span></td><td class ="number">224</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI</a>—<span class="smcap">The Other Man's Wife</span></td><td class ="number">233</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII</a>—<span class="smcap">A Confession</span></td><td class ="number"> 241</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII</a>—<span class="smcap">The Name of the Assassin</span></td><td class ="number">252</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX</a>—<span class="smcap">Link Sets a Trap</span></td><td class ="number">262</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX</a>—<span class="smcap">Who Fell into the Trap</span></td><td class ="number">272</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI</a>—<span class="smcap">A Strange Confession</span></td><td class ="number">282</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII</a>—<span class="smcap">The Confession</span> (<i>continued</i>)</td><td class ="number"> 291</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII</a>—<span class="smcap">What Rhoda Had to Say</span></td><td class ="number">301</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan ="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV</a>—<span class="smcap">The End of It All</span></td><td class ="number">310</td> +</tr></table> + +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 244px;"><img src="images/front_tb.png" width="244" height="400" alt="I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be +too happy to place it and myself at your service" title="I have ample time" /> +<span class="caption">I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be +too happy to place it and myself at your service</span></div> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SILENT HOUSE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE TENANT OF THE SILENT HOUSE</h3> + + +<p>Lucian Denzil was a briefless barrister, who +so far departed from the traditions of his brethren +of the long robe as not to dwell within the purlieus +of the Temple. For certain private reasons, not unconnected +with economy, he occupied rooms in Geneva +Square, Pimlico; and, for the purposes of his +profession, repaired daily, from ten to four, to Serjeant's +Inn, where he shared an office with a friend +equally briefless and poor.</p> + +<p>This state of things sounds hardly enviable, but +Lucian, being young and independent to the extent +of £300 a year, was not dissatisfied with his position. +As his age was only twenty-five, there was +ample time, he thought, to succeed in his profession; +and, pending that desirable consummation, he +cultivated the muses on a little oatmeal, after the +fashion of his kind. There have been lives less +happily circumstanced.</p> + +<p>Geneva Square was a kind of backwater of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>great river of town life which swept past its entrance +with speed and clamour without disturbing +the peace within. One long, narrow street led from +a roaring thoroughfare into a silent quadrangle of +tall grey houses, occupied by lodging-house keepers, +city clerks and two or three artists, who represented +the Bohemian element of the place. In the +centre there was an oasis of green lawn, surrounded +by rusty iron railings the height of a man, dotted +with elms of considerable age, and streaked with +narrow paths of yellow gravel.</p> + +<p>The surrounding houses represented an eminently +respectable appearance, with their immaculately +clean steps, white-curtained windows, and neat +boxes of flowers. The windows glittered like diamonds, +the door-knobs and plates shone with a yellow +lustre, and there were no sticks, or straws, or +waste paper lying about to mar the tidy look of the +square.</p> + +<p>With one exception, Geneva Square was a pattern +of all that was desirable in the way of cleanliness +and order. One might hope to find such a +haven in some somnolent cathedral town, but scarcely +in the grimy, smoky, restless metropolis of +London.</p> + +<p>The exception to the notable spotlessness of the +neighborhood was No. 13, a house in the centre of +the side opposite to the entrance. Its windows were +dusty, and without blinds or curtains, there were +no flower-boxes on the ledges, the steps lacked +whitewash, and the iron railings looked rusty for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>want of paint. Stray straws and scraps of paper +found their way down the area, where the cracked +pavement was damp with green slime. Such beggars +as occasionally wandered into the square, to +the scandal of its inhabitants, camped on the doorstep; +and the very door itself presented a battered, +dissolute appearance.</p> + +<p>Yet, for all its ill looks and disreputable suggestions, +those who dwelt in Geneva Square would not +have seen it furbished up and occupied for any +money. They spoke about it in whispers, with +ostentatious tremblings, and daunted looks, for No. +13 was supposed to be haunted, and had been empty +for over twenty years. By reason of its legend, its +loneliness and grim appearance, it was known as +the Silent House, and formed quite a feature of +the place. Murder had been done long ago in one +of its empty, dusty rooms, and it was since then +that the victim walked. Lights, said the ghost-seers, +had been seen flitting from window to window, +groans were sometimes heard, and the apparition +of a little old woman in brocaded silk and high-heeled +shoes appeared on occasions. Hence the Silent +House bore an uncanny reputation.</p> + +<p>How much truth there was in these stories it is +impossible to say; but sure enough, in spite of a low +rental, no tenant would take No. 13 and face its +ghostly terrors. House and apparition and legend +had become quite a tradition, when the whole fantasy +was ended in the summer of '95 by the unexpected +occupation of the mansion. Mr. Mark Ber<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>win, +a gentleman of mature age, who came from +nobody knew where, rented No. 13, and established +himself therein to lead a strange and lonely life.</p> + +<p>At first, the gossips, strong in ghostly tradition, +declared that the new tenant would not remain a +week in the house; but as the week extended into +six months, and Mr. Berwin showed no signs of +leaving, they left off speaking of the ghost and took +to discussing the man himself. In a short space of +time quite a collection of stories were told about the +newcomer and his strange ways.</p> + +<p>Lucian heard many of these tales from his landlady. +How Mr. Berwin lived all alone in the Silent +House without servant or companion; how he spoke +to none, and admitted no one into the mansion; how +he appeared to have plenty of money, and was frequently +seen coming home more or less intoxicated; +and how Mrs. Kebby, the deaf charwoman who +cleaned out Mr. Berwin's rooms, declined to sleep +in the house because she considered that there was +something wrong about her employer.</p> + +<p>To such gossip Denzil paid little attention, until +his skein of life became unexpectedly entangled with +that of the strange gentleman. The manner of their +meeting was unforeseen and peculiar.</p> + +<p>One foggy November night, Lucian, returning +from the theatre, shortly after eleven o'clock, dismissed +his hansom at the entrance to the square and +walked thereinto through the thick mist, trusting to +find his way home by reason of two years' familiarity +with the precincts. As it was impossible to see +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>even the glare of the near gas lamp in the murky +air, Lucian felt his way cautiously along the railings. +The square was filled with fog, dense to +the eye and cold to the feel, so that Lucian shivered +with the chill, in spite of the fur coat over his evening +clothes.</p> + +<p>As he edged gingerly along, and thought longingly +of the fire and supper awaiting him in his +comfortable rooms, he was startled by hearing a +deep, rich voice boom out almost at his feet. To +make the phenomenon still more remarkable, the +voice shaped itself into certain well-known words +of Shakespeare:</p> + +<p>"Oh!" boomed this <i>vox et præterea nihil</i> in rather +husky tones, "Oh! that a man should put an +enemy in his mouth to steal away his brains!" And +then through the mist and darkness came the unmistakable +sound of sobs.</p> + +<p>"God bless me!" cried Lucian, leaping back, with +shaken nerves. "Who is this? Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"A lost soul!" wailed the deep voice, "which +God will not bless!" And then came the sobbing +again.</p> + +<p>It made Denzil's blood run cold to hear this +unseen creature weeping in the gloom. Moving +cautiously in the direction of the sound, he stumbled +against a man with his folded arms resting on the +railings, and his face bent down on his arms. He +made no attempt to turn when Lucian touched him, +but with downcast head continued to weep and +moan in a very frenzy of self-pity.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> +<p>"Here!" said the young barrister, shaking the +stranger by the shoulder, "what is the matter with +you?"</p> + +<p>"Drink!" stuttered the man, suddenly turning +with a dramatic gesture. "I am an object lesson to +teetotalers; a warning to topers; a modern helot +made shameful to disgust youth with vice."</p> + +<p>"You had better go home, sir," said Lucian +sharply.</p> + +<p>"I can't find home. It is somewhere hereabout, +but where, I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You are in Geneva Square," said Denzil, trying +to sharpen the dulled wits of the man.</p> + +<p>"I wish I was in No. 13 of it," sighed the stranger. +"Where the deuce is No. 13? Not in this Cloudcuckooland, +anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Lucian, taking the man's arm. +"Come with me. I'll lead you home, Mr. Berwin."</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the name passed his lips than the +stranger drew back suddenly, with a hasty exclamation. +Some suspicion seemed to engender a mixture +of terror and defiance which placed him on his +guard against undue intimacy, even when some undefined +fear was knocking at his heart. "Who are +you?" he demanded in a steadier tone. "How do +you know my name?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Denzil, Mr. Berwin, and I live +in one of the houses of this square. As you mention +No. 13, I know you can be none other than +Mr. Mark Berwin, the tenant of the Silent House."</p> + +<p>"The dweller in the haunted house," sneered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>Berwin, evidently relieved, "who stays there with +ghosts, and worse than ghosts."</p> + +<p>"Worse than ghosts?"</p> + +<p>"The phantoms of my own sins, young man. I +have sowed folly, and now I am reaping the crop. +I am——" Here his further speech was interrupted +by a fit of coughing, which shook his lean +figure severely. At its conclusion he was so exhausted +that he was forced to support himself against +the railings. "A portion of the crop," he murmured.</p> + +<p>Lucian was sorry for the man, who seemed +scarcely capable of looking after himself, and he +thought it unwise to leave him in such a plight. +At the same time, he was impatient of lingering +in the heart of the clammy fog at such a late hour; +so, as his companion seemed indisposed to move, he +caught him again by the arm without ceremony. +The abrupt action seemed to waken again the fears +of Berwin.</p> + +<p>"Where would you take me?" he asked, resisting +the gentle force used by Lucian.</p> + +<p>"To your own house. You will be ill if you stay +here."</p> + +<p>"You are not one of them?" asked the man suddenly.</p> + +<p>"One of whom?"</p> + +<p>"One of those who wish to harm me?"</p> + +<p>Denzil began to think he had to do with a madman, +and to gain his ends he spoke to him in a soothing +manner, as he would to a child: "I wish to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>do you good, Mr. Berwin," said he gently. "Come +to your home."</p> + +<p>"Home! home! Ah, God, I have no home!"</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he gathered himself together, and +with his arm in that of his guide, stumbled along +in the thick, chill mist. Lucian knew the position +of No. 13 well, as it almost faced the lodgings +occupied by himself, and by skirting the railings +with due caution, he managed to half lead, half drag +his companion to the house. When they stood before +the door, and Berwin had assured himself that +he was actually home by the use of his latch-key, +Denzil wished him a curt good-night. "And I +should advise you to go to bed at once," he concluded, +turning to descend the steps.</p> + +<p>"Don't go! Don't go!" cried Berwin, seizing +the young man by the arm. "I am afraid to go +in by myself—all is so dark and cold! Wait until +I get a light!"</p> + +<p>As the creature's nerves seemed to be unhinged +by over-indulgence in alcohol, and he stood gasping +and shivering on the threshold like some beaten +animal, Lucian took compassion on him.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you indoors," said he, and striking a +match, stepped into the darkness after the man. The +hall of No. 13 seemed to be almost as cold as the +world without, and the trifling glimmer of the lucifer +served rather to reveal than dispel the surrounding +darkness. The light, as it were, hollowed a +gulf out of the tremendous gloom and made the +house tenfold more ghostly than before. The foot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>steps +of Denzil and Berwin sounding on the bare +boards—for the hall was uncarpeted—waked hollow +echoes, and when they paused the silence which +ensued seemed almost menacing. The grim reputation +of the mansion, its gloom and silence, appealed +powerfully to the latent superstition of Lucian. +How much more nearly, then, would it touch +the shaken and excited nerves of the tragic drunkard +who dwelt continually amid its terrors!</p> + +<p>Berwin opened a door on the right-hand side of +the hall and turned up the light of a handsome oil-lamp +which had been screwed down pending his +arrival. This lamp was placed on a small square +table covered with a white cloth and a dainty cold +supper. The young barrister noted that the napery, +cutlery, and crystal were all of the finest; that the +viands were choice; that champagne and claret were +the beverages. Evidently Berwin was a luxurious +gentleman and indulgent to his appetites.</p> + +<p>Lucian tried to gain a long look at him in the +mellow light, but Berwin kept his face turned away, +and seemed as anxious now for his visitor to go +as he had been for him to enter. Denzil, quick in +comprehension, took the hint at once.</p> + +<p>"I'll go now, as you have the light burning," +said he. "Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," replied Berwin shortly, and added +to his discourtesy by letting Lucian find his way +out alone.</p> + +<p>And so ended the barrister's first meeting with +the strange tenant of the Silent House.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>SHADOWS ON THE BLIND</h3> + + +<p>The landlady of Denzil was a rather uncommon +specimen of the class. She inclined to plumpness, +was lively in the extreme, wore very fashionable +garments of the brightest colours, and—although +somewhat elderly—still cherished a hope +that some young man would elevate her to the rank +of a matron.</p> + +<p>At present, Miss Julia Greeb was an unwedded +damsel of forty summers, who, with the aid of art, +was making desperate but ineffectual efforts to detain +the youth which was slipping from her. She +pinched her waist, dyed her hair, powdered her +face, and affected juvenile dress of the white frock +and blue sash kind. In the distance she looked a +girlish twenty; close at hand various artifices aided +her to pass for thirty; and it was only in the solitude +of her own room that her real age was apparent. +Never did woman wage a more resolute +fight with Time than did Miss Greeb.</p> + +<p>But this was the worst and most frivolous side +of her character, for she was really a good-hearted, +cheery little woman, with a brisk manner, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +flow of talk unequalled in Geneva Square. She had +been born in the house she occupied, after the death +of her father, and had grown up to assist her mother +in ministering to the exactions of a continuous +procession of lodgers. These came and went, married +and died; but not one of the desirable young +men had borne Miss Greeb to the altar, so that +when her mother died the fair Julia almost despaired +of attaining to the dignity of wifehood. +Nevertheless, she continued to keep boarders, and +to make attempts to captivate the hearts of such +bachelors as she judged weak in character.</p> + +<p>Hitherto all her efforts had been more or less +of a mercantile character, with an eye to money; +but when Lucian Denzil appeared on the scene, the +poor little woman really fell in love with his handsome +face. But, in strange contrast to her other +efforts, Miss Greeb never for a moment deemed +that Lucian would marry her. He was her god, +her ideal of manhood, and to him she offered worship, +and burnt incense after the manner of her +kind.</p> + +<p>Denzil occupied a bedroom and sitting-room, +both pleasant, airy apartments, looking out on to +the square. Miss Greeb attended to his needs herself, +and brought up his breakfast with her own +fair hands, happy for the day if her admired lodger +conversed with her for a few moments before reading +the morning paper. Then Miss Greeb would +retire to her own sitting-room and indulge in day +dreams which she well knew would never be real<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>ised. +The romances she wove herself were even +more marvellous than those she read in her favourite +penny novelettes; but, unlike the printed tales, +her romance never culminated in marriage. Poor +brainless, silly, pitiful Miss Greeb; she would have +made a good wife and a fond mother, but by some +irony of fate she was destined to be neither; and the +comedy of her husband-hunting youth was now +changing into the lonely tragedy of disappointed +spinsterhood. She was one of the world's unknown +martyrs, and her fate merits tears rather than laughter.</p> + +<p>On the morning after his meeting with Berwin, +the young barrister sat at breakfast, with Miss +Greeb in anxious attendance. Having poured out +his tea, and handed him his paper, and ascertained +that his breakfast was to his liking, Miss Greeb +lingered about the room, putting this straight and +that crooked, in the hope that Lucian would converse +with her. In this she was gratified, as Denzil +wished to learn details about the strange man he +had assisted on the previous night, and he knew +that no one could afford him more precise information +than his brisk landlady, to whom was known +all the gossip of the neighbourhood. His first word +made Miss Greeb flutter back to the table like a +dove to its nest.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about No. 13?" asked +Lucian, stirring his tea.</p> + +<p>"Do I know anything about No. 13?" repeated +Miss Greeb in shrill amazement. "Of course I do, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>Mr. Denzil. There ain't a thing I don't know +about that house. Ghosts and vampires and crawling +spectres live in it—that they do."</p> + +<p>"Do you call Mr. Berwin a ghost?"</p> + +<p>"No; nor nothing half so respectable. He is +a mystery, sir, that's what Mr. Berwin is, and I +don't care if he hears me commit myself so far."</p> + +<p>"In what way is he a mystery?" demanded Denzil, +approaching the matter with more particularity.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Miss Greeb, evidently puzzled how +to answer this leading question, "no one can find out +anything about him. He's full of secrets and underhand +goings on. It ain't respectable not to be +fair and above board—that it ain't."</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why a quiet-living old gentleman +should tell his private affairs to the whole +square," remarked Lucian drily.</p> + +<p>"Those who have nothing bad to conceal needn't +be afraid of speaking out," retorted Miss Greeb +tartly. "And the way in which Mr. Berwin lives +is enough to make one think him a coiner, or a +thief, or even a murderer—that it is!"</p> + +<p>"But what grounds have you to believe him any +one of the three?"</p> + +<p>This question also puzzled the landlady, as she +had no reasonable grounds for her wild statements. +Nevertheless, she made a determined attempt to +substantiate them by hearsay evidence. "Mr. Berwin," +said she in significant tones, "lives all alone +in that haunted house."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p><p>"Why not? Every man has the right to be a +misanthrope if he chooses."</p> + +<p>"He has no right to behave so, in a respectable +square," replied Miss Greeb, shaking her head. +"There's only two rooms of that large house furnished, +and all the rest is given up to dust and +ghosts. Mr. Berwin won't have a servant to live +under his roof, and Mrs. Kebby, who does his charing, +says he drinks awful. Then he has his meals +sent in from the Nelson Hotel round the corner, +and eats them all alone. He don't receive no letters, +he don't read no newspapers, and stays in all +day, only coming out at night, like an owl. If he +ain't a criminal, Mr. Denzil, why does he carry +on so?"</p> + +<p>"He may dislike his fellow-men, and desire to +live a secluded life."</p> + +<p>Miss Greeb still shook her head. "He may +dislike his fellow-men," she said with emphasis, +"but that don't keep him from seeing them—ah! +that it don't."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything wrong in that?" said Lucian, +contemptuous of these cobweb objections.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not, Mr. Denzil; but where do those +he sees come from?"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, Miss Greeb?"</p> + +<p>"They don't go in by the front door, that's certain," +continued the little woman darkly. "There's +only one entrance to this square, sir, and Blinders, +the policeman, is frequently on duty there. Two +or three nights he's met Mr. Berwin coming in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>after dark and exchanged friendly greetings with +him, and each time Mr. Berwin has been alone!"</p> + +<p>"Well! well! What of that?" said Denzil impatiently.</p> + +<p>"This much, Mr. Denzil, that Blinders has gone +round the square, after seeing Mr. Berwin, and has +seen shadows—two or three of them—on the sitting-room +blind. Now, sir," cried Miss Greeb, +clinching her argument, "if Mr. Berwin came into +the square alone, how did his visitors get in?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps by the back," conjectured Lucian.</p> + +<p>Again Miss Greeb shook her head. "I know +the back of No. 13 as well as I know my own +face," she declared. "There's a yard and a fence, +but no entrance. To get in there you have to go +in by the front door or down the aiery steps; and +you can't do neither without coming past Blinders +at the square's entrance, and that," finished Miss +Greeb triumphantly, "these visitors don't do."</p> + +<p>"They may have come into the square during the +day, when Blinders was not on duty."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Miss Greeb, ready for this objection. +"I thought of that myself, and as my duty +to the square I have inquired—that I have. On +two occasions I've asked the day policeman, and he +says no one passed."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Lucian, rather puzzled, "Mr. Berwin +cannot live alone in the house."</p> + +<p>"Begging your pardon, I'm sure," cried the pertinacious +woman, "but he does. Mrs. Kebby has +been all over the house, and there isn't another soul +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>in it. No, Mr. Denzil, take it what way you will, +there's something that ain't right about Mr. Berwin—if +that's his real name, which I don't believe +it is."</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Greeb?"</p> + +<p>"Just because I don't," replied the landlady, with +feminine logic. "And if you think of having anything +to do with this mystery, Mr. Denzil, I beg +of you not to, else you may come to something as +is too terrible to consider—that you may."</p> + +<p>"Such as—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," cried Miss Greeb, tossing +her head and gliding towards the door. "It ain't +for me to say what I think. I am the last person +in the world to meddle with what don't concern +me—that I am." And thus ending the conversation, +Miss Greeb vanished, with significant look and +pursed-up lips.</p> + +<p>The reason of this last speech and rapid retreat +lay in the fact that Miss Greeb could bring no tangible +charge against her opposite neighbour; and +therefore hinted at his complicity in all kinds of +horrors, which she was quite unable to define save +in terms more or less vague.</p> + +<p>Lucian dismissed such hints of criminality from +his mind as the outcome of Miss Greeb's very lively +imagination; yet, even though he reduced her communications +to bare facts, he could not but acknowledge +that there was something queer about Mr. Berwin +and his mode of life. The man's self-pity and +self-condemnation; his hints that certain people +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>wished to do him harm; the curious episode of the +shadows on the blind—these things engaged the +curiosity of Denzil in no ordinary degree; and he +could not but admit to himself that it would greatly +ease his mind to arrive at some reasonable explanation +of Berwin's eccentricities.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he held that he had no right to +pry into the secrets of the stranger, and honourably +strove to dismiss the tenant of No. 13 and +his tantalising environments from his mind. But +such dismissal of unworthy curiosity was more difficult +to effect than he expected.</p> + +<p>For the next week Lucian resolutely banished +the subject from his thoughts, and declined to discuss +the matter further with Miss Greeb. That +little woman, all on fire with curiosity, made various +inquiries of her gossips regarding the doings +of Mr. Berwin, and in default of reporting the +same to her lodger, occupied herself in discussing +them with her neighbours. The consequence of +this incessant gossip was that the eyes of the whole +square fixed themselves on No. 13 in expectation +of some catastrophe, although no one knew exactly +what was going to happen.</p> + +<p>This undefinable feeling of impending disaster +communicating itself to Lucian, stimulated his curiosity +to such a pitch that, with some feeling of +shame for his weakness, he walked round the square +on two several evenings in the hope of meeting +Berwin. But on both occasions he was unsuccessful.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p><p>On the third evening he was more fortunate, for +having worked at his law books until late at night, +he went out for a brisk walk before retiring to +rest. The night was cold, and there had been a +slight fall of snow, so Lucian wrapped himself up +well, lighted his pipe, and proceeded to take the +air by tramping twice or thrice round the square. +Overhead the sky was clear and frosty, with chill +glittering stars and a wintry moon. A thin covering +of snow lay on the pavement, and there was +a white rime on the bare branches of the central +trees.</p> + +<p>On coming to the house of Berwin, the barrister +saw that the sitting-room was lighted up and the +curtains undrawn, so that the window presented a +square of illuminated blind. Even as he looked, +two shadows darkened the white surface—the shadows +of a man and a woman. Evidently they had +come between the lamp and the window, and so, +quite unknowingly, revealed their actions to the +watcher. Curious to see the end of this shadow +pantomime, Lucian stood still and looked intently +at the window.</p> + +<p>The two figures seemed to be arguing, for their +heads nodded violently and their arms waved constantly. +They retreated out of the sphere of light, +and again came into it, still continuing their furious +gestures. Unexpectedly the male shadow seized +the female by the throat and swung her like a feather +to and fro. The struggling figures reeled out of +the radiance and Lucian heard a faint cry.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>Thinking that something was wrong, he rushed +up the steps and rang the bell violently. Almost +before the sound died away the light in the room +was extinguished, and he could see nothing more. +Again and again he rang, but without attracting +attention; so Lucian finally left the house and went +in search of Blinders, the policeman, to narrate his +experience. At the entrance of Geneva Square he +ran against a man whom he recognised in the clear +moonlight.</p> + +<p>To his surprise he beheld Mark Berwin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION</h3> + + +<p>"Mr. Berwin!" cried Lucian, recognising the +man. "Is it you?"</p> + +<p>"Who else should it be?" replied Berwin, bending +forward to see who had jostled him. "Who +else should it be, Mr. Denzil?"</p> + +<p>"But I thought—I thought," said the barrister, +unable to conceal his surprise, "that is, I fancied you +were indoors."</p> + +<p>"Your fancy was wrong, you see. I am not +indoors."</p> + +<p>"Then who is in your house?"</p> + +<p>Berwin shrugged his shoulders. "No one, so +far as I know."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, sir. There was a light in +your room, and I saw the shadows of a man and a +woman struggling together thrown on the blind."</p> + +<p>"People in my house!" said Berwin, laying a +shaking hand on the arm of Lucian. "Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you it is so!"</p> + +<p>"Come, then, and we will look for them," said +Berwin in a tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>"But they have gone by this time!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>"Gone!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Denzil rapidly. "I rang the bell, +as I fancied there was some fatal quarrel going on +within. At once the light was put out, and as I +could attract no one to the door, I suppose the man +and woman must have fled."</p> + +<p>For a moment or so Berwin said nothing, but +his grip on Lucian's arm relaxed, and he moved +forward a few steps. "You must be mistaken, Mr. +Denzil," said he in altered tones, "there can be no +person in my house. I locked the door before I +went out, and I have been absent at least two +hours."</p> + +<p>"Then I must be mad, or dreaming!" retorted +Lucian, with heat.</p> + +<p>"We can soon prove if you are either of the +two, sir. Come with me and examine the house +for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said Denzil, drawing back, "it +is none of my business. But I warn you, Mr. Berwin, +that others are more curious than I am. Several +times people have been known to be in your +house while you were absent, and your mode of +life, secretive and strange, does not commend itself +to the householders in this neighbourhood. If you +persist in giving rise to gossip and scandal, some +busybody may bring the police on the scene."</p> + +<p>"The police!" echoed the old man, now greatly +alarmed, as would appear from his shaking voice. +"No! no! That will never do! My house is my +castle! The police dare not break into it! I am a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>peaceful and very unfortunate gentleman, who +wishes to live quietly. All this talk of people being +in my house is nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Yet you seemed afraid when I told you of the +shadows," said Lucian pointedly.</p> + +<p>"Afraid! I am afraid of nothing!"</p> + +<p>"Not even of those who are after you?" hinted +Denzil, recalling the conversation of the previous +occasion.</p> + +<p>Berwin gave a kind of eldritch shriek and +stepped back a pace, as though to place himself on +his guard. "What—what do you know about such—such +things?" he panted.</p> + +<p>"Only so much as you hinted at when I last saw +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I was not myself on that night. The +wine was in and the wit was out."</p> + +<p>"The truth also, it would seem," said Lucian +drily, "judging by your agitation then and now."</p> + +<p>"I am an unfortunate gentleman," whimpered +Berwin tremulously.</p> + +<p>"If you will excuse me, sir, I shall leave you," +said Lucian ceremoniously. "It seems to be my +fate to hold midnight conversations with you in +the cold, but I think this one had better be cut +short."</p> + +<p>"One moment," Mr. Berwin exclaimed. "You +have been good enough to place me on my guard as +to the talk my quiet course of life is causing. Pray +add to your kindness by coming with me to my +house and exploring it from attic to basement. You +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>will then see that there are no grounds for scandal, +and that the shadows you fancy you saw on the +blind are not those of real people."</p> + +<p>"They can't be those of ghosts, at all events," +replied Lucian, "as I never heard, to my knowledge, +that spirits could cast shadows."</p> + +<p>"Well, come and see for yourself that the house +is empty."</p> + +<p>Warmly as this invitation was given, Lucian had +some scruples about accepting it. To explore an +almost unfurnished mansion with a complete stranger—and +one with an ill reputation—at the midnight +hour, is not an enterprise to be coveted by +any man, however bold he may be. Still, Lucian +had ample courage, and more curiosity, for the adventure, +as the chance of it stirred up that desire +for romance which belongs peculiarly to youth. +Also he was anxious to satisfy himself concerning +the blind shadows, and curious to learn why Berwin +inhabited so dismal and mysterious a mansion. Add +to these reasons a keen pleasure in profiting by the +occurrence of the unexpected, and you will guess +that Denzil ended by accepting the strange invitation +of Berwin.</p> + +<p>Being now fully committed to the adventure, he +went forward with cool courage and an observant +eye, to spy out, if possible, the secret upon which +hinged these mysteries.</p> + +<p>As on the former occasion, Berwin inducted his +guest into the sitting-room, and here, as previously, +a dainty supper was spread. Berwin turned up +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>the lamp light and waved his hand round the luxuriously +furnished room, pointing particularly to +the space between table and window.</p> + +<p>"The figures whose shadows you saw," said he, +"must have struggled together in this space, so as +to be between the lamp and the blind for the performance +of their pantomime. But I would have +you observe, Mr. Denzil, that there is no disturbance +of the furniture to show that such a struggle +as you describe took place; also that the curtains +are drawn across the window, and no light could +have been thrown on the blind."</p> + +<p>"The curtains were, no doubt, drawn after I rang +the bell," said Lucian, glancing towards the heavy +folds of crimson velvet which veiled the window.</p> + +<p>"The curtains," retorted Berwin, stripping off +his coat, "were drawn by me before I went out."</p> + +<p>Lucian said nothing, but shook his head doubtfully. +Evidently Berwin was trying, for his own +ends, to talk him into a belief that his eyes had +deceived him; but Denzil was too clear-headed a +young man to be so gulled. Berwin's explanations +and excuses only confirmed the idea that there was +something in the man's life which cut him off from +humanity, and which would not bear the light of +day. Hitherto, Lucian had heard rather than seen +Berwin; but now, in the clear light of the lamp, +he had an excellent opportunity of observing both +the man and his quarters.</p> + +<p>Berwin was of medium height, and lean, with a +clean-shaven face, hollow cheeks, and black, sunken +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>eyes. His hair was grey and thin, his looks wild +and wandering, and the hectic colouring of his face +and narrow chest showed that he was far gone in +consumption. Even as Lucian looked at him he +was shaken by a hollow cough, and when he withdrew +his handkerchief from his lips the white linen +was spotted with blood.</p> + +<p>He was in evening dress, and looked eminently +refined, although worn and haggard in appearance. +Denzil noted two peculiar marks about him; the +first, a serpentine cicatrice extending on the right +cheek from lip almost to ear; the second, the loss +of the little finger of the left hand, which was cut +off at the first joint. As he examined the man a +second and more violent fit of coughing shook him.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be very ill," said Lucian, pitying +the feebleness of the poor creature.</p> + +<p>"Dying of consumption—one lung gone!" +gasped Berwin. "It will soon be over—the sooner +the better."</p> + +<p>"With your health, Mr. Berwin, it is sheer madness +to dwell in this rigorous English climate."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," replied the man, pouring himself +out a tumbler of claret, "but I can't leave England—I +can't leave this house, even; but on the whole," +he added, with a satisfied glance around, "I am not +badly lodged."</p> + +<p>Lucian agreed with this speech. The room was +furnished in the most luxurious manner. The prevailing +hue was a deep, warm red—carpet, walls, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>hangings, and furniture were all of this cheerful +tint. The chairs were deep, and softly cushioned; +on the walls were several oil paintings by celebrated +modern artists; there were dwarf bookcases filled +with well-chosen books, and on a small bamboo +table near the fire lay magazines and papers.</p> + +<p>The mantelpiece, reaching nearly to the ceiling, +was of oak, framing mirrors of bevelled glass; and +on the numerous shelves, cups, saucers, and vases +of old and valuable china were placed. There was +also a gilt clock, a handsome sideboard, and a neat +smoking-table, on which stood a cut-glass spirit-stand +and a box of cigars. The whole apartment +was furnished with taste and refinement, and Lucian +saw that the man who owned such luxurious +quarters must be possessed of money, as well as +the capability of using it in the most civilised way.</p> + +<p>"You have certainly all that the heart of man +can desire in the way of material comforts," said +he, looking at the supper table, which, with its +silver and crystal and spotless covering, glittered +like a jewel under the brilliant lamplight. "My only +wonder is that you should furnish one room so finely +and leave the others bare."</p> + +<p>"My bedroom and bathroom are yonder," replied +Berwin, pointing towards large folding doors +draped with velvet curtains, and placed opposite to +the window. "They are as well furnished as this. +But how do you know the rest of this house is +bare?"</p> + +<p>"I can hardly help knowing it, Mr. Berwin. Your +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>contrast of poverty and riches is an open secret in +this neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"No one has been in my house save yourself, +Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have said nothing. You turned me out +so quickly the other night that I had no time for +observation. Besides, I am not in the habit of +remarking on matters which do not concern me."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Berwin weakly. "I +had no intention of offending you. I suppose Mrs. +Kebby has been talking?"</p> + +<p>"I should think it probable."</p> + +<p>"The skirling Jezebel!" cried Berwin. "I'll pack +her off right away!"</p> + +<p>"Are you a Scotchman?" asked Denzil suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask?" demanded Berwin, without +replying.</p> + +<p>"You used an essentially Scotch word—'skirling.'"</p> + +<p>"And I used an essentially American phrase—'right away,'" +retorted the man. "I may be a +Scot, I may be a Yankee, but I would remind you +that my nationality is my own secret."</p> + +<p>"I have no wish to pry into your secrets," said +Denzil, rising from the chair in which he had seated +himself, "and in my turn I would remind you that +I am here at your invitation."</p> + +<p>"Don't take offense at a hasty word," said Berwin +nervously. "I am glad of your company, although +I seem rather brusque. You must go over +the house with me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>"I see no necessity to do so."</p> + +<p>"It will set your mind at rest regarding the shadows +on the blind."</p> + +<p>"I can trust my eyes," said Lucian, drily, "and +I am certain that before I met you a man and a +woman were in this room."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Berwin, lighting a small lamp, +"come with me and I'll prove that you are mistaken."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY</h3> + + +<p>The pertinacity which Berwin displayed in insisting +that Lucian should explore the Silent House +was truly remarkable. He appeared to be bent +upon banishing the idea which Denzil entertained +that strangers were hiding in the mansion.</p> + +<p>From attic to basement, from front to back premises, +he led the way, and made Lucian examine +every corner of the empty rooms. He showed him +even the unused kitchen, and bade him remark that +the door leading into the yard was locked and bolted, +and, from the rusty condition of the ironwork, +could not have been opened for years. Also, he +made him look out of the window into the yard +itself, with its tall black fence dividing it from +the other properties.</p> + +<p>This exploration finished, and Lucian being convinced +that himself and his host were the only two +living beings in the house, Berwin conducted his +half-frozen guest back to the warm sitting-room and +poured out a glass of wine.</p> + +<p>"Here, Mr. Denzil," said he in good-natured +tones, "drink this and draw near the fire; you must +be chilled to the bone after our Arctic expedition."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>Lucian willingly accepted both these attentions, +and sipped his wine—it was particularly fine claret—before +the fire, while Berwin coughed and shivered, +and muttered to himself about the cold of the +season. When Lucian stood up to take his departure, +he addressed him directly:</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said he, with a sardonic smile, "are +you convinced that the struggling shadows on yonder +blind were children of your heated fancy?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Denzil stoutly, "I am not!"</p> + +<p>"Yet you have seen that there is no one in the +house!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Berwin," said Lucian, after a moment's +thought, "you propose a riddle which I cannot answer, +and which I do not wish to answer. I cannot +explain what I saw to-night, but as surely as you +were out of this house, some people were in it. +How this affects you, or what reason you have for +denying it, I do not ask. Keep your own secrets, +and go your own way. I wish you good-night, sir," +and Lucian moved towards the door.</p> + +<p>Berwin, who was holding a full tumbler of rich, +strong port, drank the whole of it in one gulp. The +strong liquor reddened his pallid face and brightened +his sunken eyes; it even strengthened his already +sonorous voice.</p> + +<p>"At least you can inform my good neighbours +that I am a peaceful man, desirous of being left to +lead my own life," he said urgently.</p> + +<p>"No, sir! I will have nothing to do with your +business. You are a stranger to me, and our ac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>quaintance +is too slight to warrant my discussing +your affairs. Besides," added Lucian, with a shrug, +"they do not interest me."</p> + +<p>"Yet they may interest the three kingdoms one +day," said Berwin softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if they deal with danger to society," said +Denzil, thinking his strange neighbour spoke of +anarchistic schemes, "I would——"</p> + +<p>"They deal with danger to myself," interrupted +Berwin. "I am a hunted man, and I hide here from +those who wish me ill. I am dying, as you see," he +cried, striking his hollow chest, "but I may not die +quickly enough for those who desire my death."</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" cried Lucian, rather startled +by this outburst.</p> + +<p>"People with whom you have no concern," replied +the man sullenly.</p> + +<p>"That is true enough, Mr. Berwin, so I'll say +good-night!"</p> + +<p>"Berwin! Berwin! Ha! ha! A very good name, +Berwin, but not for me. Oh, was there ever so +unhappy a creature as I? False name, false friend, +in disgrace, in hiding! Curse everybody! Go! go! +Mr. Denzil, and leave me to die here like a rat +in its hole!"</p> + +<p>"You are ill!" said Lucian, amazed by the man's +fury. "Shall I send a doctor to see you?"</p> + +<p>"Send no one," cried Berwin, commanding himself +by a visible effort. "Only go away and leave +me to myself. 'Thou can'st not minister to a mind +diseased.' Go! go!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>"Good-night, then," said Denzil, seeing that +nothing could be done. "I hope you will be better +in the morning."</p> + +<p>Berwin shook his head, and with a silent tongue, +which contrasted strangely with his late outcry, ushered +Denzil out of the house.</p> + +<p>As the heavy door closed behind him Lucian +descended the steps and looked thoughtfully at the +grim mansion, which was tenanted by so mysterious +a person. He could make nothing of Berwin—as +he chose to call himself—he could see no meaning +in his wild words and mad behaviour; but as he +walked briskly back to his lodgings he came to the +conclusion that the man was nothing worse than a +tragic drunkard, haunted by terrors engendered by +over-indulgence in stimulants. The episode of the +shadows on the blind he did not attempt to explain, +for the simple reason that he was unable to find +any plausible explanation to account therefor.</p> + +<p>"And why should I trouble my head to do so?" +mused Lucian as he went to bed. "The man and +his mysteries are nothing to me. Bah! I have been +infected by the vulgar curiosity of the Square. +Henceforth I'll neither see nor think of this +drunken lunatic," and with such resolve he dismissed +all thoughts of his strange acquaintance from +his mind, which, under the circumstances, was perhaps +the wisest thing he could do.</p> + +<p>But later on certain events took place which +forced him to alter his determination. Fate, with +her own ends to bring about is not to be denied by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>her puppets; and of these Lucian was one, designed +for an important part in the drama which was to be +played.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Margery Kebby, who attended to the domestic +economy of Berwin's house, was a deaf old +crone with a constant thirst, only to be assuaged +by strong drink; and a filching hand which was usually +in every pocket save her own. She had neither +kith nor kin, nor friends, nor even acquaintances; +but, being something of a miser, scraped and +screwed to amass money she had no need for, and +dwelt in a wretched little apartment in a back slum, +whence she daily issued to work little and pilfer +much.</p> + +<p>Usually at nine o'clock she brought in her employer's +breakfast from the Nelson Hotel, which +was outside the Square, and while he was enjoying +it in bed, after his fashion, she cleaned out and +made tidy the sitting-room. Berwin then dressed +and went out for a walk, despite Miss Greeb's contention +that he took the air only at night, like an +owl, and during his absence Mrs. Kebby attended to +the bedroom. She then went about her own business, +which was connected with the cleaning of various +other apartments, and only returned at midday +and at night to lay the table for Berwin's luncheon +and dinner, or rather dinner and supper, which were +also sent in from the hotel.</p> + +<p>For these services Berwin paid her well, and only +enjoined her to keep a quiet tongue about his private +affairs, which Mrs. Kebby usually did until +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>excited by too copious drams of gin, when she talked +freely and unwisely to all the servants in the Square. +It was to her observation and invention that Berwin +owed his bad reputation.</p> + +<p>Well-known in every kitchen, Mrs. Kebby hobbled +from one to the other, gossiping about the various +affairs of her various employers; and when absolute +knowledge failed she took to inventing details +which did no small credit to her imagination. Also, +she could tell fortunes by reading tea-leaves and +shuffling cards, and was not above aiding the maid +servants in their small love affairs.</p> + +<p>In short, Mrs. Kebby was a dangerous old witch, +who, a century back, would have been burnt at the +stake; and the worst possible person for Berwin +to have in his house. Had he known of her lying +and prating she would not have remained an hour +under his roof; but Mrs. Kebby was cunning +enough to steer clear of such a danger in the most +dexterous manner. She had a firm idea that Berwin +had, in her own emphatic phrase, "done something" +for which he was wanted by the police, and +was always on the look out to learn the secret of +his isolated life, in order to betray him, or blackmail +him, or get him in some way under her thumb. +As yet she had been unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>Deeming her a weak, quiet old creature, Berwin, +in spite of his suspicious nature, entrusted Mrs. +Kebby with the key of the front door, so that she +could enter for her morning's work without disturbing +him. The sitting-room door itself was not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>always locked, but Berwin usually bolted the portal +of his bedroom, and had invariably to rise and admit +Mrs. Kebby with his breakfast.</p> + +<p>The same routine was observed each morning, +and everything went smoothly. Mrs. Kebby had +heard of the blind shadows from several people, +and had poked and pryed about all over the house +in the hope of arriving at some knowledge of the +substantial flesh and blood figures which cast them. +But in this quest, which was intended to put money +into her own pocket, she failed entirely; and during +the whole six months of Berwin's tenancy she +never saw a living soul in No. 13 save her employer; +nor could she ever find any evidence to show that +Berwin had received visitors during her absence. +The man was as great a mystery to Mrs. Kebby +as he was to the square, in spite of her superior +opportunities of learning the truth.</p> + +<p>On Christmas Eve the old woman brought in +a cold supper for Berwin, as usual, making several +journeys to and fro between hotel and house for +that purpose. She laid the table, made up the fire, +and before taking her leave asked Mr. Berwin if +he wanted anything else.</p> + +<p>"No, I think not," replied the man, who looked +wretchedly ill. "You can bring my breakfast to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"At nine, sir?"</p> + +<p>"At the usual time," answered Berwin impatiently. +"Go away!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kebby gave a final glance round to see that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>all was in order, and shuffled out of the room as fast +as her rheumatism would let her. As she left the +house eight o'clock chimed from the steeple of a +near church, and Mrs. Kebby, clinking her newly-received +wages in her pocket, hurried out of the +square to do her Christmas marketing. As she +went down the street which led to it, Blinders, a +burly, ruddy-faced policeman, who knew her well, +stopped to make an observation.</p> + +<p>"Is that good gentleman of yours home, Mrs. +Kebby?" he asked, in the loud tones used to deaf +people.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's home," grumbled Mrs. Kebby ungraciously, +"sittin' afore the fire like Solomon in all +his glory. What d'ye want to know for?"</p> + +<p>"I saw him an hour ago," explained Blinders, +"and I thought he looked ill."</p> + +<p>"So he do, like a corpse. What of that? We've +all got to come to it some day. 'Ow d'ye know +but what he won't be dead afore morning? Well, +I don't care. He's paid me up till to-night. I'm +going to enj'y myself, I am."</p> + +<p>"Don't you get drunk, Mrs. Kebby, or I'll lock +you up."</p> + +<p>"Garn!" grunted the old beldame. "Wot's +Christmas Eve for, if it ain't for folk to enj'y theirselves? +Y'are on duty early."</p> + +<p>"I'm taking the place of a sick comrade, and +I'll be on duty all night. That's my Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Well! well! Let every one enj'y hisself as he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>likes," muttered Mrs. Kebby, and shuffled off to the +nearest public house.</p> + +<p>Here she began to celebrate the season, and afterwards +went shopping; then she celebrated the +season again, and later carried home her purchases +to the miserable garret she occupied. In this den +Mrs. Kebby, with the aid of gin and water, celebrated +the season until she drank herself to sleep.</p> + +<p>Next morning she woke in anything but an amiable +mood, and had to fortify herself with an early +drink before she was fit to go about her business.</p> + +<p>It was almost nine when she reached the Nelson +Hotel, and found the covered tray with Mr. Berwin's +breakfast waiting for her; so she hurried with +it to Geneva Square as speedily as possible, fearful +of a scolding. Having admitted herself into the +house, Mrs. Kebby took up the tray with both +hands, and pushed open the sitting-room door with +her foot. Here, at the sight which met her eyes, +she dropped the tray with a crash, and let off a +shrill yell.</p> + +<p>The room was in disorder, the table was overturned, +and amid the wreckage of glass and china +lay Mark Berwin, with outspread hands—stone +dead—stabbed to the heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE TALK OF THE TOWN</h3> + + +<p>Nowadays, events, political, social, and criminal, +crowd so closely on one another's heels that +what was formerly a nine days' wonder is scarcely +marvelled at the same number of minutes. Yet in +certain cases episodes of a mysterious or unexpected +nature engage the attention of a careless world for a +somewhat longer period, and provoke an immense +amount of discussion and surmise. In this category +may be placed the crime committed in Geneva +Square; for when the extraordinary circumstances +of the case became known, much curiosity was manifested +regarding the possible criminal and his motive +for committing so apparently useless a crime.</p> + +<p>To add to the wonderment of the public, it came +out in the evidence of Lucian Denzil at the inquest +that Berwin was not the real name of the victim; +so here the authorities were confronted with a three-fold +problem. They had first to discover the name +of the dead man; second, to learn who it was had +so foully murdered him; and third, to find out the +reason why the unknown assassin should have slain +an apparently harmless man.</p> + +<p>But these hidden things were not easily brought +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>to light; and the meagre evidence collected by the +police failed to do away with any one of the three +obstacles—at all events, until after the inquest. +When the jury brought in a verdict that the deceased +had been violently done to death by some +person or persons unknown, the twelve good men +and true stated the full extent of knowledge gained +by Justice in her futile scramble after clues. Berwin—so +called—was dead, his assassin had melted +into thin air, and the Silent House had added a +second legend to its already uncanny reputation. +Formerly it had been simply haunted, now it was +also blood-stained, and its last condition was worse +than its first.</p> + +<p>The dead man had been found stabbed to the +heart by some long, thin, sharp-pointed instrument +which the murderer had taken away with him—or +perhaps her, as the sex of the assassin, for obvious +reasons, could not be decided. Mrs. Kebby swore +that she had left the deceased sitting over the fire +at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, and that he had +then been fairly well, though far from enjoying +the best of health. When she returned, shortly after +nine, on Christmas morning, the man was dead +and cold. Medical aid was called in at the same +time as the police were summoned; and the evidence +of the doctor who examined the body went +to prove that Berwin had been dead at least ten +hours; therefore, he must have been assassinated between +the hours of eleven and twelve of the previous +night.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>Search was immediately made for the murderer, +but no trace could be found of him, nor could it be +ascertained how he had entered the house. The +doors were all locked, the windows were all barred, +and neither at the back nor in the front was there +any outlet left open whereby the man—if it was +a man who had done the deed—could have escaped.</p> + +<p>Blinders, the policeman on duty at the entrance +of the square, gave evidence that he had been on +duty there all night, and that although many servants +and owners of houses belonging to the square +had passed in from their Christmas marketings, yet +no stranger had entered. The policeman knew +every one, even to the errand-boys of the neighbourhood, +who brought parcels of Christmas goods, and +in many cases had exchanged greetings with the +passers-by; but he was prepared to swear, and, in +fact, did swear at the inquest, that no stranger +either came into or went out of Geneva Square.</p> + +<p>Also he deposed that when the traffic died away +after midnight he had walked round the square, and +had looked at every window, including that of No. +13, and had tried every door, also including that of +No. 13, only to find that all was safe. Blinders +declared on oath that he had not on Christmas Eve +the slightest suspicion of the horrid tragedy which +had taken place in the Silent House during the time +he was on duty.</p> + +<p>When the police took possession of the body and +mansion, search was made in bedroom and sitting-room +for papers likely to throw light on the identity +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>of the victim, but in vain. No letters or telegrams, +or even writing of any kind, could be discovered; +there was no name in the dead man's books, no +mark on his clothes, no initials on his linen.</p> + +<p>The landlord of the house declared that the deceased +had hired the mansion six months before, but +had given no references, and as the landlord was +glad to let the haunted No. 13 on any terms, he +had not insisted upon having them. The deceased, +said the landlord, had paid a month's rent in advance +in ready money, and at the end of every +month he had discharged his liability in the same +way. He gave neither cheque nor notes, but paid +always in gold; and beyond the fact that he called +himself Mark Berwin, the landlord knew nothing +about him.</p> + +<p>The firm who had furnished the rooms made almost +the same report, quite as meagre and unsatisfactory. +Mr. Berwin—so the deceased had given +his name—had ordered the furniture, and had paid +for it in gold. Altogether, in spite of every effort, +the police were obliged to declare themselves beaten. +They could not find out the name of the victim, and +therefore were unable to learn his past life, or trace +thereby if he had an enemy likely to harm him.</p> + +<p>Beyond the report given by Lucian of his conversation +with the man, which showed that Berwin +certainly had some enemy whom he dreaded, there +was nothing discovered to show reason for the committal +of the crime.</p> + +<p>Berwin—so called—was dead; he was buried un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>der +his assumed name, and there, so far as the obtainable +evidence went, was an end to the strange +tenant of the Silent House. Gordon Link, the detective +charged with the conduct of the case, confessed +as much to Denzil.</p> + +<p>"I do not see the slightest chance of tracing Berwin's +past," said he to the barrister. "We are as +ignorant about him as we are of the name of the +assassin."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure there is no clue, Mr. Link?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely none; even the weapon with which +the crime was committed cannot be found."</p> + +<p>"You have searched the house?"</p> + +<p>"Every inch of it, and with the result that I have +found nothing. The surroundings of the case are +most mysterious. If we do not identify the dead +we cannot hope to trace the murderer. How the +wretch got into the house is more than I can discover."</p> + +<p>"It is strange," admitted Lucian thoughtfully, +"yet in some secret way people were in the habit of +entering the house, and Berwin knew as much; not +only that, but he protected them from curiosity by +denying that they even existed."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite follow you, Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>"I allude to the shadows on the blind, which I +saw myself a week before the murder took place. +They were those of a man and a woman, and must +have been cast by bodies of flesh and blood. Therefore, +two people must have been in Berwin's sitting-room +on that night; yet when I met Berwin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> who +was absent at the time—he denied that anyone +could have entered his house without his knowledge. +More, he actually insisted that I should satisfy +myself as to the truth of this by examining the +house."</p> + +<p>"Which you did?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but found nothing; yet," said Lucian, with +an air of conviction, "however the man and woman +entered, they were in the house."</p> + +<p>"Then the assassin must have come in by the +same way; but where that way can be, or how it +can be found, is more than I can say."</p> + +<p>"Does the landlord know of any secret passages?"</p> + +<p>"No; I asked him," replied the detective, "but he +stated that houses nowadays were not built with +secret passages. When Berwin denied that anyone +was in the house, was he afraid, Mr. Denzil?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he seemed to be nervous."</p> + +<p>"And he told you he had enemies?"</p> + +<p>"He hinted that there were people who wished +to see him dead. From the way he spoke and the +language he used I am satisfied that he was hiding +from the vengeance of some one."</p> + +<p>"Vengeance!" repeated Link, raising his eyebrows. +"Is not that word a trifle melodramatic?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; but to my mind there is more melodrama +in actual life than people fancy. However, +Mr. Link," added Lucian, "I have come to certain +conclusions. Firstly, that Berwin was in hiding; +secondly, that he saw people secretly who entered in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>some way we cannot discover; and thirdly, that to +solve the problem it will be necessary to look into +the past life of the dead man."</p> + +<p>"Your third conclusion brings us round to the +point whence we started," retorted Link. "How +am I to discover the man's past?"</p> + +<p>"By learning who he is, and what is his real +name."</p> + +<p>"An easy task," said the detective sarcastically, +"considering the meagre material upon which we +have to work. And how is the business to be accomplished?"</p> + +<p>"By advertisement."</p> + +<p>"Advertisement!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I wonder the idea did not strike you before, +seeing how often it is used in similar cases. +Advertise a full description of the man who called +himself Berwin, note his physical peculiarities and +looks, and circulate such description by means of +handbills and newspapers."</p> + +<p>Link looked angry, and laughed rather contemptuously, +as his professional pride was touched by the +fact of being advised by an individual not of his +calling.</p> + +<p>"I am not so ignorant of my business as you +think," he said sharply. "What you suggest has +already been done. There are handbills describing +the appearance of Berwin in every police office in +the kingdom."</p> + +<p>"In the newspapers, also?" asked Lucian, nettled +by the detective's tone.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>"No; it is not necessary."</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you. Many people in private +life are not likely to see your handbills. I don't +pretend to advise, Mr. Link," he added in soothing +tones, "but would it not be wise to use the medium +of the daily papers?"</p> + +<p>"I'll think of it," said Link, too jealous of his +dignity to give way at once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I quite rely on your discretion," said Denzil +hastily. "You know your own business best. But +if you succeed in identifying Berwin, will you let +me know?"</p> + +<p>Link looked keenly at the young man.</p> + +<p>"Why do you wish to know about the matter?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Out of simple curiosity. The case is so mysterious +that I should like to watch you unravel it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Link, rather gratified by this tribute +to his power, "I shall indulge your fancy."</p> + +<p>The result of this conversation was that Lucian +observed in the newspapers next day an advertisement +describing the looks and name, and physical +peculiarities of the deceased, with special mention +of the loss of the left hand's little finger, and the +strange cicatrice on the right cheek. Satisfied that +the only way to learn the truth had been adopted +by the authorities, Lucian impatiently waited for +the development of the scheme.</p> + +<p>Within the week he received a visit from the detective.</p> + +<p>"You were right and I was wrong, Mr. Denzil," +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>admitted Link generously. "The newspapers were +of more use than the handbills. Yesterday I received +a letter from a lady who is coming to see +me to-morrow at my office. So if you care to be +present at the interview you have only to say so."</p> + +<p>"I should like it above all things," said Lucian +eagerly. "Who is the lady?"</p> + +<p>"A Mrs. Vrain, who writes from Bath."</p> + +<p>"Can she identify the dead man?"</p> + +<p>"She thinks she can, but, of course, she cannot +be certain until she sees the body. Going by the +description, however," added Link, "she is inclined +to believe that Berwin was her husband."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>MRS. VRAIN'S STORY</h3> + + +<p>Denzil was much pleased with the courtesy of +the detective Link in permitting him to gain, at +first hand, further details of this mysterious case. +With a natural curiosity, engendered by his short +acquaintance with the unfortunate Berwin, he was +most anxious to learn why the man had secluded +himself from the world in Geneva Square; who +were the enemies he hinted at as desirous of his +death; and in what manner and for what reason he +had met with so barbarous a fate at their hands. It +seemed likely that Mrs. Vrain, who asserted herself +to be the wife of the deceased, would be able +to answer these questions in full; therefore, he was +punctual in keeping the appointment at the office +of Link.</p> + +<p>He was rather astonished to find that Mrs. Vrain +had arrived, and was deep in conversation with the +detective, while a third person, who had evidently +accompanied her, sat near at hand, silent, but attentive +to what was being discussed. As the dead +man had been close on sixty years of age, and Mrs. +Vrain claimed to be his wife, Denzil had quite ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>pected +to meet with an elderly woman. Instead of +doing so, however, he beheld a pretty young lady +of not more than twenty-five, whose raiment of widow's +weeds set off her beauty to the greatest advantage. +She was a charming blonde, with golden +hair and blue eyes, and a complexion of rose-leaf +hue. In spite of her grief her demeanour was lively +and engaging, and her smile particularly attractive, +lighting up her whole face in the most fascinating +manner. Her hands and feet were small, her stature +was that of a fairy, and her figure was perfect in +every way.</p> + +<p>Altogether, Mrs. Vrain looked like a sylph or a +dainty shepherdess of Dresden china, and should +have been arrayed in gossamer robes, rather than in +the deep mourning she affected. Indeed, Lucian +considered that such weeds were rather premature, +as Mrs. Vrain could not yet be certain that the +murdered man was her husband; but she looked so +charming and childlike a creature that he forgave +her being too eager to consider herself a widow. +Perhaps with such an elderly husband her eagerness +was natural.</p> + +<p>From this charming vision Lucian's eyes wandered +to the attentive third person, a rosy-cheeked, +plump little man, of between fifty and sixty. From +his resemblance to Mrs. Vrain—for he had the +same blue eyes and pink-and-white complexion—Lucian +guessed that he was her father, and such, +indeed, proved to be the case. Link, on Lucian's +entrance, introduced him to the sylph in black, who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>in her turn presented him to the silvery-haired, benevolent +old man, whom she called Mr. Jabez +Clyne.</p> + +<p>At the first sound of their voices Lucian detected +so pronounced a twang, and so curious a way of +collocating words, as to conclude that Mrs. Vrain +and her amiable parent hailed from the States. The +little lady seemed to pride herself on this, and indicated +her republican origin in her speech more than +was necessary—at least, Denzil thought so. But +then, on occasions, he was disposed to be hyper-critical.</p> + +<p>"Say, now," said Mrs. Vrain, casting an approving +glance on Lucian's face, "I'm right down +glad to see you. Mr. Link here was just saying you +knew my husband, Mr. Vrain."</p> + +<p>"I knew him as Mr. Berwin—Mark Berwin," +replied Denzil, taking a seat.</p> + +<p>"Just think of that now!" cried Mrs. Vrain, +with a liveliness rather subdued in compliment to +her apparel; "and his real name was Mark Vrain. +Well, I guess he won't need no name now, poor +man," and the widow touched her bright eyes carefully +with a doll's pocket-handkerchief, which Lucian +noted, somewhat cynically, was perfectly dry.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he's an angel by this time, Lyddy," said +Mr. Clyne, in a cheerful, chirping voice, "so it ain't +no use wishing him back, as I can see. We've all +got to negotiate kingdom-come some time or another."</p> + +<p>"Not in the same way, I hope," said Lucian +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>dryly. "But I beg your pardon, Link, I interrupt +your conversation."</p> + +<p>"By no means," replied the detective readily. +"We had just begun when you entered, Mr. +Denzil."</p> + +<p>"And it wasn't much of a talk, anyhow," said +Mrs. Vrain. "I was only replying to some stupid +questions."</p> + +<p>"Stupid, if you will, but necessary," observed +Link, with gravity. "Let us continue. Are you +certain that this dead man is—or rather was—your +husband?"</p> + +<p>"I'm as sure as sure can be, sir. Berwin Manor +is the name of our place near Bath, and it looks +as though my husband called himself after it when +he changed his colours. And isn't his first name +Mark?" pursued the pretty widow. "Well, my +husband was called Mark, too, so there you are—Mark +Berwin."</p> + +<p>"Is this all your proof?" asked Link calmly.</p> + +<p>"I guess not, though it's enough, I should say. +My husband had a mark on his right cheek—got it +fighting a duel with a German student when he +was having a high time as one of the boys at Heidelberg. +Then he lost part of his little finger—left-hand +finger—in an accident out West. What other +proof do you want, Mr. Link?"</p> + +<p>"The proofs you have given seem sufficient, Mrs. +Vrain, but may I ask when your husband left his +home?"</p> + +<p>"About a year ago, eh, poppa?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"You are overdoing it, Lyddy," corrected the +father. "Size it up as ten months, and you'll do."</p> + +<p>"Ten months," said Lucian suddenly, "and Mr. +Berwin——"</p> + +<p>"Vrain!" struck in Lydia, the widow, "Mark +Vrain."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon! Well, Mark Vrain took +the house in Geneva Square six months back. Where +was he during the other four?"</p> + +<p>"Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil. I know +no more than you do."</p> + +<p>"Did you not know where he went on leaving +Berwin Manor?"</p> + +<p>"Sakes! how should I? Mark and I didn't pull +together nohow, so he kicked over the traces and +made tracks for the back of beyond."</p> + +<p>"And you might square it, Lyddy, by saying as +'twasn't you who upset the apple cart."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should smile to think so," said Mrs. +Vrain vigorously. "I was as good as pie to that +old man."</p> + +<p>"You did not get on well together?" said Link +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Got on as well as a cat hitched along with a dog. +My stars! there was no living with him. If he +hadn't left me, I'd have left him—that's an almighty +truth."</p> + +<p>"So the gist of all this is that Mr. Vrain left +you ten months ago, and did not leave his address?"</p> + +<p>"That's so," said the widow calmly. "I've not +seen nor heard of him for most a year, till pop there +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>tumbled across your paragraph in the papers. Then +I surmised from the name and the missing finger +and the scarred cheek, that I'd dropped right on +to Mark. I wouldn't take all this trouble for any +one else; no, sir, not me!"</p> + +<p>"My Lyddy does not care about being a grass-widow, +gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind being a grass-widow or a real one, +so long as I know how to ticket myself," said the +candid Lydia; "but seems to me there's no question +that Mark's sent in his checks."</p> + +<p>"I certainly think that this man who called himself +Berwin was your husband," said Denzil, for +Mrs. Vrain's eyes rested on him, and she seemed +to expect an answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, that means I'm Mr. Vrain's +widow?"</p> + +<p>"I should say so."</p> + +<p>"And entitled to all his pile?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on the will," said Lucian dryly, +for the light tone of the pretty woman jarred upon +his ear.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," replied Mrs. Vrain, putting +a gold-topped smelling bottle to her nose. "I +saw the will made, and know exactly how I come +out. The old man's daughter by his first wife gets +the manor and the rents, and I take the assurance +money!"</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Berwin—I beg pardon, Vrain—was +he married twice?"</p> + +<p>"I should think so!" said Lydia. "He was a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>widower with a grown-up daughter when I took +him to church. Well, can I get this assurance +money?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Link, "provided you can +prove your husband's death."</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Vrain briskly. "Wasn't +he murdered?"</p> + +<p>"The man called Berwin was murdered."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said the rosy-cheeked Clyne, with +more sharpness than might have been expected from +his peaceful aspect, "and ain't Berwin Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"It would seem so," replied Link coolly. "All +your evidence goes to prove it, yet the assurance +company may not be satisfied with the proof. I +expect the grave will have to be opened, and the +remains identified."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" said Mrs. Vrain with a shrug, "how disgusting! +I mean," she added, colouring as she saw +that Lucian was rather shocked by her flippancy, +"that sorry as I am for the old man, he wasn't a +good husband to me, and corpses a week old ain't +pleasant things to look on."</p> + +<p>"Lyddy," interposed Clyne, hastening to obliterate, +if possible, the impression made on the two men +by this foolish speech, "how you do go on. But +you know your heart is better than your tongue."</p> + +<p>"It was, to put up so long with Mr. Vrain," said +Lydia resentfully; "but I'm honest, if I'm nothing +else. I guess I'm sorry that Vrain got stuck like +a pig; but it wasn't my fault, and I've done my +best to show respect by wearing black. But it is no +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>good going on in this way, poppa, for I've no call +to excuse myself to strangers. What I want to +know is how I'm going to get the dollars."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to see the assurance company about +that," said Link coldly; "my business with you, +Mrs. Vrain, is about this murder."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it," retorted the widow. +"I haven't set eyes on Mark for most a year."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea who killed him?"</p> + +<p>"I guess not! How should I?"</p> + +<p>"You might know if he had enemies."</p> + +<p>"He," said Mrs. Vrain, with supreme contempt, +"why, he hadn't backbone enough for folks to get +riz at him! He was half baked!"</p> + +<p>"Crazy, that is," remarked Clyne; "always +thought the world was against him, and folks wanted +to get quit of him."</p> + +<p>"He said he had enemies," hinted Lucian.</p> + +<p>"You bet! He no doubt made out that all Europe +was against him," said Clyne. "That was my +son-in-law all over. Lyddy and he had a tiff, just +like other married couples, and he clears out to lie +low in an out-of-the-way shanty in Pimlico. I tell +you, gentlemen, that Vrain had a chip out of his +head. He fancied things, he did; but no one wanted +to harm him that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Yet he died a violent death," said Denzil +gravely.</p> + +<p>"That's a frozen fact, sir," cried Clyne, "and +both Lyddy and I want to lynch the reptile as did +it; but we neither of us know who laid him out."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p><p>"I'm sure I don't," said Mrs. Vrain in a weeping +voice. "Every one that I knew was civil to him; +he had no one who wanted to kill him when he +left Berwin Manor. Why he went away, or how he +died, I can't say."</p> + +<p>"If you want to know how he died," explained +Link, "I can tell you. He was stabbed."</p> + +<p>"So the journals said; with a bowie!"</p> + +<p>"No, not with a bowie," corrected Lucian, "but +with some long, sharp instrument."</p> + +<p>"A dagger?" suggested Clyne.</p> + +<p>"I should be even more precise," said Denzil +slowly. "I should say a stiletto—an Italian stiletto."</p> + +<p>"A stiletto!" gasped Mrs. Vrain, whose delicate +pink colour had faded to a chalky white. "Oh!—oh! +I—I—" and she fainted forthwith.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE ASSURANCE MONEY</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Vrain's fainting fit was of no great duration, +and she shortly recovered her senses, but not +her sprightliness. Her excuse was that the long +discussion of her husband's murder, and the too +precise details related to her by Link before Denzil's +arrival, had so wrought on her nerves as to +occasion her temporary indisposition.</p> + +<p>This reason, which was a trifle weak, since she +seemed to bear her husband's loss with great stoicism, +awakened suspicions in Lucian's mind as to her +truthfulness. However, these were too vague and +confused to be put into words, so the young man +remained silent until Mrs. Vrain and her father +departed. This they did almost immediately, after +the widow had given her London and country addresses +to the detective, in case he should require +her in the conduct of the case.</p> + +<p>This matter being attended to, she left the room, +with a parting smile and especial bow to Lucian.</p> + +<p>Link smiled in his turn as he observed this Parthian +shaft, the shooting of which was certainly +out of keeping with Mrs. Vrain's character of a +mourning widow.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>"You seem to have made an impression on the +lady, Mr. Denzil," he said, with a slight cough to +conceal his amusement.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" replied Lucian, his fair face crimsoning +with vexation. "She seems to me one of +those shallow women who would sooner flirt with a +tinker than pass unnoticed by the male sex. I don't +like her," he concluded, with some abruptness.</p> + +<p>"On what grounds?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she spoke very hardly about her husband, +and seemed rather more concerned about this +assurance money than his death. She is a flippant +doll, with a good deal of the adventuress about +her. I don't think," said the barrister significantly, +"that she is altogether so ignorant of this matter +as she pretends to be."</p> + +<p>The detective raised his eyebrows. "You don't +propose to accuse her of the murder?" he asked +sceptically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" answered Denzil hastily. "I don't +say she is as guilty as all that; but she knows something, +or suspects something."</p> + +<p>"How do you make that out?"</p> + +<p>"She fainted at the mention of stiletto; and I +am convinced that Vrain—as I suppose we must +call him now—was killed with one. And again, +Link, this woman admitted that she had married +her elderly husband in Florence. Now, Florence, +as you know, is an Italian town; a stiletto is an +Italian weapon. Putting these two things together, +what do you make of Mrs. Vrain's fainting?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>"I make nothing of it, Mr. Denzil. You are +too suspicious. The woman had no reason to rid +herself of her husband as you hint."</p> + +<p>"What about the assurance money?"</p> + +<p>"There is a motive there, certainly—a motive +of gain. Still, I think you are making a mountain +out of a molehill, for I am satisfied that she knows +no more who committed the crime than does the +Pope himself."</p> + +<p>"It is as well to look in every direction," said +Lucian obstinately.</p> + +<p>"Meaning that I should follow this clue you +suggest, which has no existence save in your own +fancy. Well, I'll keep my eye on Mrs. Vrain, you +may be sure of that. It won't be difficult, as she +will certainly stay in town until she identifies the +body of her dead husband and gets the money. If +she is guilty, I'll track her down; but I am certain +she has nothing to do with the crime. If she had, +it is not likely that she would enter the lion's den +by coming to see me. No, no, Mr. Denzil; you +have found a mare's nest."</p> + +<p>Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and took up his +hat to go.</p> + +<p>"You may be right," said he reluctantly, "but I +have my doubts of Mrs. Vrain, and shall continue +to have them until she supplies a more feasible explanation +of her fainting. In the meantime, I'll +leave you to follow out the case in the manner you +judge best. We shall see who is right in the long +run," and Denzil, still holding to his opinion, took +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>his departure, leaving Link confident that the young +man did not know what he was talking about.</p> + +<p>As the detective sat thinking over the late conversation, +and wondering if he could shape any +definite course out of it, Denzil put his head in at +the door.</p> + +<p>"I say, Link," he called out, "you'd better find +out if Mrs. Vrain is really the wife of this dead +man before you are guided by her story!" After +which speech he hurriedly withdrew, leaving Link +to digest it at his leisure.</p> + +<p>At first, Link was indignant that Denzil should +deem him so easily hoodwinked as the speech implied. +Afterwards he began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Wife!" said he to himself. "Of course she is +the man's wife! She knows too much about him +to be otherwise; but even granting that Denzil is +right—which I don't for a moment admit—there is +no need for me to prove the truth of his assumption. +If this pretty woman is not the true wife of Berwin, +or Vrain, or whatever this dead man's name +actually may be, the assurance company will get +at the rights of the matter before paying over the +money."</p> + +<p>Subsequent events reflected credit on this philosophical +speech and determination of Mr. Link. +Had Mrs. Vrain been an imposter, her house of +cards would have been knocked down, as soon as +reared, by the searching inquiry instituted by the +Sirius Assurance Company. It appeared that the +life of the late Mark Vrain was on the books of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>the company for no less a sum than twenty thousand +pounds; and under the will this was to be paid +over to Lydia Vrain, <i>née</i> Clyne. The widow, aided +by her father—who was a shrewd business man, in +spite of his innocent looks—and the family lawyer +of the Vrains, went systematically to work to establish +her own identity, the death of her husband, +and her consequent right to the money.</p> + +<p>The first thing to be done was to prove that the +dead man was really Vrain. There was some little +difficulty in obtaining an order from the authorities +for the opening of the grave and the exhumation of +the body; but finally the consent of those in power +was obtained, and there was little difficulty in the +identification of the remains. The lawyer, Mr. +Clyne, Mrs. Vrain herself, and several people +brought up from Bath by the assurance company, +swore that the corpse—buried under the false name +of Berwin—was that of Mark Vrain, for decomposition +had not proceeded so far but what the +features could be recognised. There was even no +need to unwrap the body from its cerements, as +the face itself, and the scar thereon, were quite +sufficient for the friends of the deceased to swear +to the corpse. Thereupon the assurance company, +on the fullest of evidence, was compelled to admit +that their client was dead, and expressed themselves +ready to pay over the money to Mrs. Vrain as soon +as the will should be proved.</p> + +<p>Pending the legal process necessary to do this, +the widow made a great parade of her grief and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>affection for the dead man. She had the body re-enclosed +in a new and sumptuous coffin, and removed +the same to Berwin Manor, near Bath, +where, after a short lapse of time, it was duly placed +in the family vault of the Vrains.</p> + +<p>The widow, having thus disposed of her husband, +bethought herself of her stepdaughter, who +at that time was on a visit to some friends in Australia. +A long letter, giving full details, was despatched +by Mrs. Vrain, and the daughter was requested, +both by the widow and the lawyer, to come +back to England at once and take up her abode in +Berwin Manor, which, with its surrounding acres, +had been left to her under the will.</p> + +<p>Matters connected with the death and its consequences +having been disposed of thus far, Mrs. +Vrain sat down, and, folding her hands, waited till +such time as she would receive the assurance money, +and begin a new life as a wealthy and fascinating +widow. Every one said that the little woman had +behaved very well, and that Vrain—weak-headed +as he was supposed to be—had shown excellent +judgment in dividing his property, real and personal, +so equally between the two claimants. Miss +Vrain, as became the child of the first wife, received +the home and acres of her ancestors; while +the second wife obtained the assurance money, +which every one candidly admitted she quite deserved +for having sacrificed her youth and beauty to +an old man like Vrain. In those days, when all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>these details were being settled, the widow was the +most popular personage in Bath.</p> + +<p>Matters went smoothly with Mrs. Vrain in every +respect. The will was duly proved, the twenty +thousand pounds was duly paid over; so, finding +herself rich, the widow came with her father to +take up her abode in London. When settled there +one of her first acts was to send a note to Lucian, +telling him that she was in town. The good looks +of the young man had made a considerable impression +on Mrs. Vrain, and she appeared anxious to +renew the acquaintance, although it had been so +inauspiciously begun in the purlieus of the police +courts.</p> + +<p>On his part, Lucian lost no time in paying his respects, +for after the searching inquiry conducted +by the Sirius Assurance Company, out of which +ordeal Mrs. Vrain had emerged unscathed, he began +to think that he had been too hasty in condemning +the little widow. So he called upon her +almost immediately after receiving the invitation, +and found her, after the lapse of three months, +as pretty as ever, and clothed in less heavy mourning.</p> + +<p>"It's real sweet of you to call, Mr. Denzil," said +she vivaciously. "I haven't seen anything of you +since we met in Mr. Link's office. And sakes! have +I not had a heap of trouble since then?"</p> + +<p>"Your trouble has done you no harm, Mrs. +Vrain. So far as your looks go, three minutes, +rather than three months, might have passed."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, that's all right. I guess it's not good enough +to cry one's self sick for what can't be helped. But +I want to ask you, Mr. Denzil, how that policeman +is progressing with the case."</p> + +<p>"He has found out nothing," replied Lucian, +shaking his head, "and, so far as I can see, there's +not much chance of learning the truth."</p> + +<p>"I never thought there was," said Mrs. Vrain, +with a shrug. "Seems to me you don't get round +much in this old country. Well, it don't seem as +I can do much more. I've told all I know, and I've +offered a reward of £500 to discover the man who +stuck Mark. If he ain't found for dollars he won't +be found at all."</p> + +<p>"Probably not, Mrs. Vrain. It is now over three +months since the crime was committed, and every +day makes the chance of discovery less."</p> + +<p>"But for all that, Diana Vrain's going on the +trail, Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>"Diana Vrain! Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"My stepdaughter—Mark's only child. She was +in Australia—out in the wild west of that country—and +only lately got the news of her father's +death. I got a letter from her last week, and it +seems as she's coming back here to find out who laid +her poppa out."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid she'll not succeed," said Denzil dubiously.</p> + +<p>"She'll do her best to," replied Mrs. Vrain, with +a shrug. "She's as obstinate as a battery mule; +but it's no use talking, she will have her own way," +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>and dismissing the subject of Miss Vrain, the pretty +widow, with an air of relief, talked on more frivolous +subjects until Lucian took his departure.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>DIANA VRAIN</h3> + + +<p>Although over three months had elapsed since +the murder of Mark Vrain, and the crime had been +relegated to oblivion both by press and people, curiosity +concerning it was still active in Geneva +Square. The gossips in that talkative quarter had +exhausted their tongues and imaginations in surmising +who had committed the deed, and how it +had been accomplished.</p> + +<p>It was now known that the deceased had been +of a good county family, who had left his pretty +young wife in a fit of groundless suspicion; that he +had no enemies; and had withdrawn to the Silent +House to save himself from the machinations of +purely imaginary beings. The general opinion was +that Vrain had been insane; but even this did not +explain the reason of his tragic and unforeseen +death.</p> + +<p>Since the murder the Silent House had acquired +a tenfold interest in the eyes of all. The crime, +added to its reputation for being haunted, invested +it with horror; and its commonplace looks assumed +to fanciful onlookers a grim and menacing aspect, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>in keeping with its blood-stained floor and ghostly +rooms.</p> + +<p>Disheartened by the late catastrophe, which had +so greatly enhanced the already evil reputation of +the house, the landlord did not attempt to relet it, +as he knew very well that no tenant would be bold +enough to take it, even at a nominal rent. Mrs. +Vrain had sold off the furniture of the two apartments +which her unfortunate husband had inhabited, +and now these were as bare and lonely as the +rest of the rooms.</p> + +<p>The landlord made no effort to furbish up or +renovate the mansion, deeming that such expense +would be useless; so No. 13, deserted by man, and +cursed by God, remained vacant and avoided. People +came from far and near to look at it, but no +one entered its doors lest some evil fate should befall +them. Yet, in strange contradiction to the horror +it created in every breast, the houses on either +side continued to be occupied.</p> + +<p>Miss Greeb frequently took a peep across the +way at the empty house, with its curtainless, dusty +windows and smokeless chimneys. She had theorised +often on the murder of Vrain, and being unable +to come to any reasonable conclusion, finally decided +that a ghost—the ghost which haunted the mansion—had +committed the crime. In support of this +fantastic opinion she related to Lucian at least a +score of stories in which people foolishly sleeping +in haunted rooms had been found dead in the morning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>"With black finger-marks on their throats," said +Miss Greeb dramatically, "and looks of horror in +their eyes, and everything locked up, just like it +was in No. 13, to show that nothing but a ghost +could have killed them."</p> + +<p>"You forget, Miss Greeb," said Lucian flippantly, +"poor Vrain was stabbed with a stiletto. Ghosts +don't use material weapons."</p> + +<p>"How do you know the dagger was a real one?" +replied Miss Greeb, sinking her voice to a horrified +whisper. "Was it ever seen? No! Was it ever +found? No! The ghost took it away. Depend +upon it, Mr. Denzil, it wasn't flesh and blood as +made a spirit of that crazy Berwin."</p> + +<p>"In that case, the ghostly criminal can't be +hanged," said Denzil, with a laugh. "But it's all +nonsense, Miss Greeb. I am astonished that a +woman of your sense should believe in such rubbish."</p> + +<p>"Wiser people than I have faith in ghosts," retorted +the landlady obstinately. "Haven't you +heard of the haunted house in a West End square, +where a man and a dog were found dead in the +morning, with a valet as gibbered awful ever afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"Pooh! Pooh! That's a story of Bulwer Lytton's."</p> + +<p>"It is not, Mr. Denzil—it's a fact. You can +see the very house in the square for yourself, and +No. 13 is just such another."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Why, I'd sleep in No. 13 to-mor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>row +night, just to prove that your ghostly fears are +all moonshine."</p> + +<p>Miss Greeb uttered a screech of alarm. "Mr. +Denzil!" she cried, with great energy, "sooner than +you should do that, I'd—I'd—well, I don't know +what I'd do!"</p> + +<p>"Accuse me of stealing your silver spoons and +have me locked up," said Lucian, laughing. "Make +yourself easy, Miss Greeb. I have no intention of +tempting Providence. All the same, I don't believe +for one minute that No. 13 is haunted."</p> + +<p>"Lights were seen flitting from room to room."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. Poor Vrain showed me over the +house before he died. His candle explains the +lights."</p> + +<p>"They have been seen since his death," said Miss +Greeb solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Then, as a ghost, Vrain must be walking about +with the old woman phantom who wears brocade +and high-heeled shoes."</p> + +<p>Miss Greeb, seeing that she had a sceptic to deal +with, retreated with great dignity from the argument, +but nevertheless to other people maintained +her opinion, with many facts drawn from her imagination +and from books on the supernatural compiled +from the imagination—or, as the various writers +called it—the experience of others. Some agreed +with her, others laughed at her; but one and all +acknowledged that, however it came about, whether +by ghostly or mortal means, the murder of Vrain +was a riddle never likely to be solved; and, with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>other events of a like nature and mystery, it was +relegated to the list of undiscovered crimes.</p> + +<p>After several interviews with Link, the barrister +was also inclined to take this view of the matter. +He found the detective quite discouraged in his +efforts to find the assassin.</p> + +<p>"I have been to Bath," said Link dismally. "I +have examined, so far as I was able, into the past +life of Vrain, but I can find nothing likely to throw +light on the subject. He did not get on well with +his wife, and left Bath ten months before the murder. +I tried to trace where he went to, but could +not. He vanished from Bath quite unexpectedly, +and four months later turned up in Geneva Square, +as we know, but who killed him, or why he was +killed, I can't say. I'm afraid I'll have to give it +up as a bad job, Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>"What! and lose a reward of five hundred +pounds!" said Lucian.</p> + +<p>"If it was five thousand, I must lose it," returned +the dejected Link. "This case beats me. I don't +believe the murderer will ever be run down."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I am inclined to agree with +you," said Denzil, and barrister and detective departed, +each convinced that the Vrain case was +ended, and that in the face of the insuperable obstacles +presented by it there was not the slightest +chance of avenging the murder of the unfortunate +man. The reading of the mystery was beyond mortal +powers to accomplish.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>About the middle of April, nearly four months +after the tragedy, Lucian received a letter containing +an invitation which caused him no little astonishment. +The note was signed Diana Vrain, and, +having intimated that the writer had returned only +that week from Australia, requested that Mr. Denzil +would be kind enough to call the next day at the +Royal John Hotel in Kensington. Miss Vrain ended +by stating that she had a particular desire to +converse with Mr. Denzil, and hoped that he would +not fail to keep the appointment.</p> + +<p>Wondering greatly how the lady—who was no +doubt the stepdaughter referred to by Mrs. Vrain—had +obtained his address, and why she desired +to see him so particularly, Lucian, out of sheer curiosity, +obeyed the summons. Next day, at four +o'clock—the appointed hour—he presented himself +as requested, and, on giving his name, was shown +immediately into the presence of his correspondent, +who occupied a small private sitting-room.</p> + +<p>When Miss Vrain rose to greet him, Lucian was +amazed to see how beautiful and stately she was. +With dark hair and eyes, oval face, and firm mouth, +majestic figure and imperial gait, she moved towards +him an apparent queen. A greater contrast +to Mrs. Vrain than her stepdaughter can scarcely +be imagined: the one was a frivolous, volatile fairy, +the other a dignified and reserved woman. She +also was arrayed in black garments, but these were +made in the plainest manner, and showed none of +the coquetry of woe such as had characterised Mrs. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>Vrain's elaborate costume. The look of sorrow +on the face of Diana was in keeping with her +mourning apparel, and she welcomed Lucian with +a subdued courtesy which prepossessed him greatly +in her favour.</p> + +<p>Quick in his likes and dislikes, the young man +was as drawn towards this beautiful, sad woman as +formerly he had been repulsed by the feigned grief +and ensnaring glances of silly Mrs. Vrain.</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged to you for calling, Mr. Denzil," +said Miss Vrain in a deep voice, rather melancholy +in its tone. "No doubt you wondered how +I obtained your address."</p> + +<p>"It did strike me as peculiar, I confess," said +Lucian, taking a chair to which she pointed, "but +on considering the matter I fancied that Mrs. Vrain +had——"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vrain!" echoed Diana in a tone of contempt. +"No! I have not seen Mrs. Vrain since +I returned, a week ago, to London. I got your +address from the detective who examined into the +death of my most unhappy father."</p> + +<p>"You have seen Link?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I know all that Link could tell me. +He mentioned your name frequently in his narrative, +and gave me to understand that on two occasions +you had spoken with my father; therefore, +I asked him to give me your address, so that I might +speak with you personally on the matter."</p> + +<p>"I am quite at your service, Miss Vrain. I sup<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>pose +you wish to learn all that I know of the tragedy?"</p> + +<p>"I wish for more than that, Mr. Denzil," said +Diana quietly. "I wish you to help me in hunting +down the assassin of my father."</p> + +<p>"What! Do you intend to reopen the case?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; but I did not know that the case—as +you call it—had been closed. I have come home +from Australia especially to devote myself to this +matter. I should have been in London long ago, +but that out in Australia I was with some friends +in a part of the country where it is difficult to get +letters. As soon as Mrs. Vrain's letter about the +terrible end of my father came to hand I arranged +my affairs and left at once for England. Since my +arrival I have seen Mr. Saker, our family lawyer, +and Mr. Link, the detective. They have told me +all they know, and now I wish to hear what you +have to say."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I cannot help you, Miss Vrain," +said Lucian dubiously.</p> + +<p>"Ah! You refuse to help me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! no! I shall only be too glad to do +what I can," protested Lucian, shocked that she +should think him so hard-hearted, "but I know of +nothing likely to solve the mystery. Both myself +and Link have done our best to discover the truth, +but without success."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Denzil," said Diana, after a pause, +"they often say that a woman's wit can do more +than a man's logic, so you and I must put our heads +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>together and discover the guilty person. Have you +no suspicion?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have no suspicion," replied Lucian +frankly. "Have you?"</p> + +<p>"I have. I suspect—a lady."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. How do you know I meant her?"</p> + +<p>"Because at one time I suspected her myself."</p> + +<p>"You suspected rightly," replied Diana. "I believe +that Mrs. Vrain killed her husband."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A FAILURE</h3> + + +<p>Denzil did not reply at once to the accusation +levelled by Diana at Mrs. Vrain, as he was too +astonished at her vehemence to find his voice readily. +When he did speak, it was to argue on the +side of the pretty widow.</p> + +<p>"I think you must be mistaken," he said at +length.</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Denzil, you declared that you suspected +her yourself!"</p> + +<p>"At one time, but not now," replied Lucian decisively, +"because at the time of the murder Mrs. +Vrain was keeping Christmas in Berwin Manor."</p> + +<p>"Like Nero fiddling when Rome was burning," +retorted Diana sharply; "but you mistake my meaning. +I do not say that Mrs. Vrain committed the +crime personally, but she inspired and guided the +assassin."</p> + +<p>"And who is the assassin, in your opinion?"</p> + +<p>"Count Hercule Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"An Italian?"</p> + +<p>"As you may guess from the name."</p> + +<p>"Now, that is strange," cried Lucian, with some +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>excitement, "for, from the nature of the wound, +I believe that your father was stabbed by an Italian +stiletto."</p> + +<p>"Aha!" said Diana, with satisfaction. "That +strengthens the accusation I bring against Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"And, again," continued Denzil, hardly listening +to what she was saying, "when I mentioned my +suspicion about the stiletto in the hearing of Mrs. +Vrain, she fainted."</p> + +<p>"Which showed that her guilty conscience +pricked her. Oh, I am sure of it, Mr. Denzil! My +stepmother and the count are the criminals!"</p> + +<p>"Our evidence, as yet, is only circumstantial," +said Lucian cautiously. "We must not jump to +conclusions. At present I am completely in the +dark regarding this foreigner."</p> + +<p>"I can enlighten you, but it is a long story."</p> + +<p>"The longer the better," said Denzil, thinking +he could hear Diana speak and watch her face for +hours without weariness. "I wish for all details, +then I shall be in a better position to judge."</p> + +<p>"What you say is only reasonable, Mr. Denzil. +I shall tell you my father's history from the time +he went to Italy some three years ago. It was in +Italy—to be precise, in Florence—that he met with +Lydia Clyne and her father."</p> + +<p>"One moment," said Denzil. "Before you begin, +will you tell me what you think of the couple?"</p> + +<p>"Think!" cried Diana disdainfully. "I think +they are a couple of adventurers; but she is the +worst of the two. The old man, Jabez Clyne, I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>think moderately well of; he is a weak fool under +the thumb of his daughter. If you only knew what +I have suffered at the hands of that golden-haired +doll!"</p> + +<p>"I should think you could hold your own, Miss +Vrain."</p> + +<p>"Not against treachery and lies!" retorted Diana +fiercely. "It is not my habit to employ such weapons, +but my stepmother used no others. It was she +who drove me out of the house and made me exile +myself to the Antipodes to escape her falseness. +And it was she," added Miss Vrain solemnly, "who +treated my father so ill as to drive him out of his +own home. Lydia Vrain is not the doll you think +her to be; she is a false, cruel, clever adventuress, +and I hate her—I hate her with all my heart and +soul!"</p> + +<p>This feminine outburst of anger rather bewildered +Denzil, who saw very plainly that Diana was +by no means the lofty angel he had taken her to +be in the first appreciation of her beauty. But her +passion of the moment suited so well with her stately +looks that she seemed rather a Margaret of +Anjou defying York and his faction than an injured +woman concerned with so slight a thing as the rebuke +of one of her own sex for whom she had little +love. Diana saw the surprise expressed on Lucian's +face, and her own flushed a little with annoyance +that she should have betrayed her feelings so openly. +With a vexed laugh, she recovered her temper +and composed demeanour.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>"You see I am no saint, Mr. Denzil," she said, +resuming her seat, for in her anger she had risen +to her feet. "But even if I were one, I could not +have restrained myself from speaking as I did. +When you know my stepmother as well as I do—but +I must talk calmly about her, or you will not +understand my reasons for thinking her concerned +in the terrible fate of my poor father."</p> + +<p>"I am all attention, Miss Vrain."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you all I know, as concisely as possible," +she replied, "and you can judge for yourself if I am +right or wrong. Three years ago my father's health +was very bad. Since the death of my mother—now +some ten years—he had devoted himself to +hard study, and had lived more or less the life of +a recluse in Berwin Manor. He was writing a history +of the Elizabethan dramatists, and became so +engrossed with the work that he neglected his +health, and consequently there was danger that he +might suffer from brain fever. The doctors ordered +him to leave his books and to travel, in order +that his attention might be distracted by new scenes +and new people. I was to go with him, to see that +he did not resume his studies, so, in an evil hour for +us both, we went to Italy."</p> + +<p>"Your father was not mad?" said Lucian, thinking +of the extraordinary behaviour of Vrain in the +square.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" cried Diana indignantly. "He was +a trifle weak in the head from overwork but quite +capable of looking after himself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>"Did he indulge in strong drink?"</p> + +<p>Miss Vrain looked scandalised. "My father was +singularly abstemious in eating and drinking," she +said stiffly. "Why do you ask such a question?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," replied Lucian, with all +humility, "but it was reported in Geneva Square +that Berwin—the name by which your father was +known—drank too much; and when I met him he +was certainly not—not quite himself," finished the +barrister delicately.</p> + +<p>"No doubt his troubles drove him to take more +than was good for him," said Diana in a low voice. +"Yet I wonder at it, for his health was none of the +best. Sometimes, I admit, he took sleeping draughts +and—and—drugs."</p> + +<p>"He was consumptive," said Lucian, noticing +Diana's hesitation to speak plainly.</p> + +<p>"His chest was weak, and consumption may have +developed itself, but when I left England, almost +two years back, he was certainly not suffering from +that disease. But I see how it is," said Diana, +wringing her hands. "During my short absence, +and under the tyranny of his wife, his physical +health and moral principles gave way. Drink and +consumption! Ah! God! were not these ills enough +but what the woman must add murder to cap them +both?"</p> + +<p>"We do not know yet if she is guilty," said Lucian +quietly. "Will you go on with your story, +Miss Vrain? Later on we can discuss these mat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>ters, +when I am in possession of the facts. You +say it was an evil hour when you went to Italy."</p> + +<p>"It was indeed," said Diana sorrowfully, "for +in Florence, at the Pension Donizetti, on the Lung +Arno, we met with Lydia Clyne and her father. +They had only lately arrived in Italy—from New +York, I suppose—but already she was said to be +engaged to a needy Italian nobleman named Hercule +Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose the Clynes were rich," said +Lucian, "for I know those Italian nobles too well +to suspect that this Count Ferruci would pay attention +to any one but an heiress."</p> + +<p>"She was supposed to be rich, Mr. Denzil. All +Americans, for some reason, are supposed to be +millionaires; but after she married my father I +learned that Mr. Clyne had a very moderate fortune +indeed, and his daughter nothing. It was for +that reason that Lydia threw over the count, to +whom she was almost engaged, and began to pay +attention to my father. She heard talk of his estates +in the gossip of the Pension, and believing him to +be rich, she decided to marry him instead of throwing +herself away in a romantic fit on Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"Did she love this Italian?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am sure she did; and, what is more, she +loves him still!"</p> + +<p>"What! Is Count Ferruci still acquainted with +Mrs. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"He is, as you shall hear. Miss Clyne, as I said, +determined to make a rich marriage by becoming +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>the second Mrs. Vrain. I never liked her, knowing +that she was false and frivolous; but though I +did my best to stop the marriage, my father would +not be controlled. You know that this woman is +pretty and fascinating."</p> + +<p>"She is certainly the first, but not the last," interposed +Lucian.</p> + +<p>"At all events," resumed Diana disconsolately, +"she was sufficiently fascinating to snare my poor +foolish old father. We remained four months in +Florence, and before we left it Lydia Clyne became +Mrs. Vrain. I could do nothing with my +father, as he was possessed of the headstrong passion +of an old man, and, moreover, Lydia had +learned to know his weak points so well that she +could twist him round her finger. But, angered as +I was at my father's folly, I loved him too well to +leave him at the time, therefore I returned to Berwin +Manor with the pair.</p> + +<p>"There, Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Vrain, her +face growing dark, "Lydia made my life so wretched, +and insulted me so openly, that I was forced, +out of self-respect, to leave the house. I had some +relatives in Australia, to whom I went out on a +visit. Alas! I wish I had not done so; yet remain +with my colonial cousins I did, until recalled to +England by the terrible intelligence of my father's +untimely end."</p> + +<p>"So the marriage was a failure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; even before I left, Lydia openly neglected +my father. I am bound to say that Mr. Clyne, who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>is much the better of the two, tried to make her +conduct herself in a more becoming manner. But +she defied him and every one else. After my departure +I received letters from a friend of mine, +who told me that Lydia had invited Count Ferruci +over on a visit. My father, finding that he could +do nothing, and seeing what a mistake he had made, +returned to his books, and soon became ill again. +Instead of looking after him, Lydia—as I heard—encouraged +him to study hard, hoping, no doubt, +that he would die, and that she would be free to +marry Count Ferruci. Then my father left the +house."</p> + +<p>"Why? That is a very necessary detail."</p> + +<p>Diana thought for a moment, then shook her +head despondingly. "That I cannot explain," she +said, with a sigh, "as I was in Australia at the time. +But I expect that his brain grew weaker with study, +and perhaps with the strong drink and drugs which +this woman drove him to take. No doubt the poor +man grew jealous of Ferruci; and, unable to assert +himself, seeing how ill he was, left the house and +retired to Geneva Square to meet his death, as we +know."</p> + +<p>"But all this is supposition," remonstrated Lucian. +"We really do not know why Mr. Vrain +left the house."</p> + +<p>"What does Lydia say?"</p> + +<p>"She gives no feasible explanation."</p> + +<p>"Nor will she. Oh!" cried Diana, "is there no +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>way of getting at the truth of this matter? I feel +certain that Lydia and the Count are guilty!"</p> + +<p>"You have no proofs," said Denzil, shaking his +head.</p> + +<p>"No proofs! Why, you said yourself that a +stiletto——"</p> + +<p>"That is a supposition on my part," interrupted +Lucian quickly. "I cannot say for certain that the +deed was committed with such a weapon. Besides, +if it was, how can you connect the Italian with +the deed?"</p> + +<p>"Can we not find a proof?"</p> + +<p>"I fear not."</p> + +<p>"But if we search the house?"</p> + +<p>"There is little use in doing that," rejoined Lucian. +"However, if it will give you any satisfaction, +Miss Vrain, I will take you over the house +to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Do!" cried Diana, "and we may find proof of +Lydia's guilt in a way she little dreams of. Good-bye, +Mr. Denzil—till to-morrow."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON</h3> + + +<p>The beauty and high spirit of Diana made so +deep an impression on Lucian that he determined +to aid her by every means in his power in searching +for the assassin of her father. As yet Denzil had +reached the age of twenty-five without having been +attracted in any marked degree towards woman-kind; +or, to put it more precisely, he had not yet +been in love. But now it seemed that the hour +which comes to all of Adam's sons had come to +him; for on leaving Diana he thought of nothing +else but her lovely face and charming smile, and, +until he met her again, her image was never absent +from his mind.</p> + +<p>He took but a languid interest in his daily business +or social pursuits, and, wrapped up in inwardly +contemplating the beauties of Diana, he appeared +to move amongst his fellow-men like one in a +dream. And dreamer he was, for there was no substantial +basis for his passion.</p> + +<p>Many people—particularly those without imagination—scoff +at the idea that love can be born in a +moment, but such is often the case, for all their +ill-advised jibes. A man may be brought into con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>tact +with the loveliest and most brilliant of women, +yet remain heart-whole; yet unexpectedly a face—not +always the most beautiful—will fire him with +sudden fervour, even against his better judgment. +Love is not an affair of reason, to be clipped and +measured by logic and calculation; but a devouring, +destroying passion, impatient of restraint, and utterly +regardless of common sense. It is born of +a look, of a smile, of a sigh, of a word; it springs +up and fructifies more speedily than did Jonah's +gourd, and none can say how it begins or how it +will end. It is the ever old, ever new riddle of +creation, and the more narrowly its mystery is +looked into the more impossible does it become +of solution. The lover of to-day, with centuries +of examples at his back, is no wiser in knowledge +than was his father Adam.</p> + +<p>Although Lucian was thus stricken mad after +the irrational methods of Cupid, he had sufficient +sense not to examine too minutely into the reasons +for this sudden passion. He was in love, and admitting +as much to himself, there was an end of all +argument. The long lane of his youthful and loveless +life had turned in another direction at the signpost +of a woman's face, and down the new vista +the lover saw flowering meadows, silver streams, +bowers of roses, and all the landscape of Arcadia. +He was a piping swain and Diana a complaisant +shepherdess; but they had not yet entered into the +promised Arcadia, and might never do so unless +Diana was as kindly as he wished her to be.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>Lucian was in love with Diana, but as yet he +could not flatter himself that she was in love with +him, so he resolved to win her affection—if it was +free to be bestowed—by doing her will, and her +will was to revenge the death of her father. This +was hardly a pleasant task to Lucian in his then +peace-with-all-the-world frame of mind; but seeing +no other way to gain a closer intimacy with the +lady of his love, he took the bitter with the sweet, +and set his shoulder to the wheel.</p> + +<p>The next morning, therefore, Lucian called on +the landlord of No. 13 and requested the keys of +the house. But it appeared that these were not in +the landlord's keeping at the moment.</p> + +<p>"I gave them to Mrs. Kebby, the charwoman," +said Mr. Peacock, a retired grocer, who owned the +greater part of the square. "The house is in such +a state that I thought I'd have it cleaned up a +bit."</p> + +<p>"With a view to a possible tenant, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied Peacock, with a rueful +shake of his bald head, "although I'm hoping +against hope. But what with the murder and the +ghost, there don't seem much chance of letting it. +What might you be wanting in No. 13, Mr. +Denzil?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to examine every room, to find, if possible, +a clue to this crime," explained Lucian, suppressing +the fact that he was to have a companion.</p> + +<p>"You'll find nothing, sir. I've looked into every +room myself. However, you'll find Mrs. Kebby +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>cleaning up, and she'll let you in if you ring the +bell. You aren't thinking of taking the house yourself, +I suppose?" added Peacock wishfully.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you. My nerves are in good order +just now; I don't want to upset them by inhabiting +a house with so evil a reputation."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's what every one says," sighed the +grocer. "I wish that Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever +he called himself, had chosen some other place +to be killed in."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid people who meet with unexpected +deaths can't arrange these little matters beforehand," +said Lucian drily, and walked away, leaving +the unfortunate landlord still lamenting over his +unlucky possession of a haunted and blood-stained +mansion.</p> + +<p>Before going to No. 13, Lucian walked down +the street leading into Geneva Square, in order to +meet Diana, who was due at eleven o'clock. Punctual +as the barrister was, he found that Miss Vrain, +in her impatience, was before him; for he arrived +to see her dismiss her cab at the end of the street, +and met her half way down.</p> + +<p>His heart gave a bound as he saw her graceful +figure, and he felt the hot blood rise to his cheeks +as he advanced to meet her.</p> + +<p>Diana, quite unconscious of having, like her +namesake, the moon, caused this springtide of the +heart, could not forbear a glance of surprise, but +greeted her coadjutor without embarrassment and +with all friendliness. Her thoughts were too taken +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>up with her immediate task of exploring the scene +of the crime to waste time in conjecturing the reason +of the young man's blushes. Yet the instinct +of her sex might have told her the truth, and probably +it would have but that it was blunted, or rather +not exercised, by reason of her preoccupation.</p> + +<p>"Have you the key, Mr. Denzil?" said she eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No; but I have seen the landlord, and he has +given us permission to go over the house. A charwoman +who is cleaning up the place will let us +in."</p> + +<p>"A charwoman," repeated Miss Vrain, stopping +short, "and cleaning up the house! Is it, then, +about to receive a new tenant?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; but the landlord wishes it to be aired +and swept; to keep it in some degree of order, I +presume."</p> + +<p>"What is the name of this woman?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Kebby."</p> + +<p>"The same mentioned in the newspaper reports +as having waited on my unhappy father?"</p> + +<p>"The same," replied Lucian, with some hesitation; +"but I would advise you, Miss Vrain, not +to question her too closely about your father."</p> + +<p>"Why not? Ah! I see; you think her answers +about his drinking habits will give me pain. No +matter; I am prepared for all that. I don't blame +him so much as those who drove him to intemperance. +Is this the house?" she said, looking ear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>nestly +at the neglected building before which they +were standing.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Lucian, ringing the bell, "it was +in this house that your father came to his untimely +end. And here is Mrs. Kebby."</p> + +<p>That amiable crone had opened the door while +the young man was speaking, and now stood eyeing +her visitors with a blear-eyed look of dark suspicion.</p> + +<p>"What is't ye want?" she demanded, with a +raven-like croak.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Peacock has given this lady and myself +permission to go over the house," responded Lucian, +trying to pass.</p> + +<p>"And how do I know if he did?" grumbled Mrs. +Kebby, blocking the way.</p> + +<p>"Because I tell you so."</p> + +<p>"And because I am the daughter of Mr. Vrain," +said Diana, stepping forward.</p> + +<p>"Lord love ye, miss! are ye?" croaked Mrs. +Kebby, stepping aside. "And ye've come to look at +your pa's blood, I'll be bound."</p> + +<p>Diana turned pale and shuddered, but controlling +herself by an effort of will, she swept past the old +woman and entered the sitting-room. "Is this the +place?" she asked Lucian, who was holding the +door open.</p> + +<p>"That it is, miss," cried the charwoman, who had +hobbled after them, "and yonder is the poor gentleman's +blood; it soaked right through the car<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>pet," +added Mrs. Kebby, with ghoulish relish. +"Lor! 'ow it must 'ave poured out!"</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, woman!" said Lucian roughly, +seeing that Diana looked as though about to +faint. "Get on with your work!"</p> + +<p>"I'm going; it's upstairs I'm sweeping," growled +the crone, retreating. "You'll bring me to you if +ye give a holler. I'll show ye round for a shilling."</p> + +<p>"You shall have double if you leave us alone," +said Lucian, pointing to the door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kebby's blear eyes lighted up, and she +leered amiably at the couple.</p> + +<p>"I dessay it's worth two shillings," she said, +chuckling hoarsely. "Oh, I'm not so old but what +I don't know two turtle doves. He! he! To kiss +over yer father's blood! Lawks! what a match +'twill be! He! he!"</p> + +<p>Still laughing hoarsely, Mrs. Kebby, in the midst +of her unholy joy, was pushed out of the door by +Lucian, who immediately afterwards turned to see +if Diana had overheard her ill-chosen and ominous +words. But Miss Vrain, with a hard, white face, +was leaning against the wall, and gave no sign of +such knowledge. Her eyes were fixed on a dull-looking +red stain of a dark hue, irregular in shape, +and her hands the while were pressed closely against +her bosom, as though she felt a cruel pain in her +heart. With bloodless cheek and trembling lip the +daughter looked upon the evidence of her father's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>death. Lucian was alarmed by her unnatural pallor.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vrain!" he exclaimed, starting forward, +"you are ill! Let me lead you out of this house."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Diana, waving him back. "Not till +we examine every inch of it; don't speak to me, +please. I wish to use my eyes rather than my +tongue."</p> + +<p>Denzil, both as a lover and a friend, respected +this emotion of the poor young lady, so natural under +the circumstances; and in silence conducted her +from room to room. All were empty and still +dusty, for Mrs. Kebby's broom swept sufficiently +light, and the footfalls of the pair echoed hollowly +in the vast spaces.</p> + +<p>Diana looked into every corner, examined every +fireplace, attempted every window, but in no place +could she find any extraneous object likely to afford +a clue to the crime. They went down into the +basement and explored the kitchen, the servant's +parlour, the scullery, and the pantry, but with the +same unsatisfactory result. The kitchen door, which +led out into the back yard, showed signs of having +been lately opened; but when Diana drew Lucian's +attention to this fact, as the murderer having possibly +entered thereby, he assured her that it had +only lately been opened by the detective, Link, when +he was searching for clues.</p> + +<p>"I saw this door," added Lucian, striking it with +his cane, "a week before your father was killed. +He showed it to me himself, to prove that no one +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>could have entered the house during his absence; +and I was satisfied then, from the rusty condition +of the bolts, and the absence of the key in the lock, +that the door had not been opened—at all events, +during his tenancy."</p> + +<p>"Then how could those who killed him have entered?"</p> + +<p>"That is what I wish to learn, Miss Vrain. But +why do you speak in the plural?"</p> + +<p>"Because I believe that Lydia and Ferruci killed +my father."</p> + +<p>"But I have proved to you that Mrs. Vrain remained at Bath."</p> + +<p>"I know it," replied Diana quickly, "but she sent +Ferruci up to kill my father, and I speak in the plural +because I think—in a moral sense—she is as +guilty as the Italian."</p> + +<p>"That may be, Miss Vrain, but as yet we have +not proved their guilt."</p> + +<p>Diana made no answer, but, followed by Lucian, +ascended to the upper part of the house, where they +found Mrs. Kebby sweeping so vigorously that she +had raised a kind of dust storm. As soon as she +saw the couple she hobbled towards them to cajole +them, if possible, into giving her money.</p> + +<p>For a few moments Diana looked at her haughtily, +not relishing the familiarity of the old dame, +but unexpectedly she stepped forward with a look +of excitement.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get that ribbon?" she asked +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>Mrs Kebby, pointing to a scrap of personal adornment +on the neck of the rusty old creature.</p> + +<p>"This?" croaked Mrs. Kebby. "I picked it up +in the kitchen downstairs. It's a pretty red and yaller +thing, but of no value, miss, so I don't s'pose +you'll take it orf me."</p> + +<p>Paying no attention to this whimpering, Diana +twitched the ribbon out of the old woman's hands +and examined it. It was a broad yellow ribbon of +rich silk, spotted with red—very noticeably and evidently +of foreign manufacture.</p> + +<p>"It is the same!" cried Diana, greatly excited. +"Mr. Denzil, I bought this ribbon myself in Florence!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lucian, wondering at her excitement, +"and what does that prove?"</p> + +<p>"This: that a stiletto which my father bought in +Florence, at the same time, has been used to kill +him! I tied this ribbon myself round the handle of +the stiletto!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>FURTHER DISCOVERIES</h3> + + +<p>The silence which followed Diana's announcement +regarding the ribbon and stiletto—for Lucian +kept silence out of sheer astonishment—was broken +by the hoarse voice of Mrs. Kebby:</p> + +<p>"If ye want the ribbon, miss, I'll not say no to a +shilling. With what your good gentleman promised, +that will be three as I'm ready to take," and +Mrs. Kebby held out a dirty claw for the silver.</p> + +<p>"You'll sell it, will you!" cried out Diana indignantly, +pouncing down on the harridan. "How +dare you keep what isn't yours? If you had shown +the detective this," shaking the ribbon in Mrs. +Kebby's face, "he might have caught the criminal!"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," interposed Lucian, finding his +voice, "I hardly think so, Miss Vrain; for no one +but yourself could have told that the ribbon adorned +the stiletto. Where did you see the weapon last?"</p> + +<p>"In the library at Berwin Manor. I hung it up +on the wall myself, by this ribbon."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure it is the same ribbon?"</p> + +<p>"I am certain," replied Diana emphatically. "I +cannot be mistaken; the colour and pattern are both +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>peculiar. Where did you find it?" she added, turning +to Mrs. Kebby.</p> + +<p>"In the kitchen, I tell ye," growled the old +woman sullenly. "I only found it this blessed morning. +'Twas in a dark corner, near the door as leads +down to the woodshed. How was I to know 'twas +any good?"</p> + +<p>"Did you find anything else?" asked Lucian +mildly.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't, sir."</p> + +<p>"Not a stiletto?" demanded Diana, putting the +ribbon in her pocket.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's a stiletter, miss; but I +didn't find nothing; and I ain't a thief, though some +people as sets themselves above others by taking +ribbons as doesn't belong to 'em mayn't be much +good."</p> + +<p>"The ribbon is not yours," said Diana haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Yes it are! Findings is keepings with me!" answered +Mrs. Kebby.</p> + +<p>"Don't anger her," whispered Denzil, touching +Miss Vrain's arm. "We may find her useful."</p> + +<p>Diana looked from him to the old woman, and +opened her purse, at the sight of which Mrs. Kebby's +sour face relaxed. When Miss Vrain gave her +half a sovereign she quite beamed with joy. "The +blessing of heaven on you, my dear," she said, with +a curtsey. "Gold! good gold! Ah! this is a brave +day's work for me—thirteen blessed shillings!"</p> + +<p>"Ten, you mean, Mrs. Kebby!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir," cried Mrs. Kebby obsequiously, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>"the lady gave me ten, bless her heart, but you've +quite forgot your three."</p> + +<p>"I said two."</p> + +<p>"Ah! so you did, sir. I'm a poor schollard at +'rithmetic."</p> + +<p>"You're clever enough to get money out of people," +said Diana, who was disgusted at the avarice +of the hag. "However, for the present you must +be content with what I have given you. If, in +cleaning this house, you find any other article, whatever +it may be, you shall have another ten shillings, +on consideration that you take it at once to Mr. +Denzil."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kebby, who was tying up the piece of gold +in the corner of her handkerchief, nodded her old +head with much complacency. "I'll do it, miss; +that is, if the gentleman will pay on delivery. I +like cash."</p> + +<p>"You shall have cash," said Lucian, laughing; +and then, as Diana intimated her intention of leaving +the house, he descended the stairs in her company.</p> + +<p>Miss Vrain kept silence until they were outside +in the sunshine, when she cast an upward glance at +the warm blue sky, dappled with light clouds.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to be out of that house," she said, +with a shudder. "There is something in its dark +and freezing atmosphere which chills my spirits."</p> + +<p>"It is said to be haunted, you know," said Lucian +carelessly; then, after a pause, he spoke on the subject +which was uppermost in his mind. "Now that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>you have this piece of evidence, Miss Vrain, what +do you intend to do?"</p> + +<p>"Make sure that I have made no mistake, Mr. +Denzil. I shall go down to Berwin Manor this +afternoon. If the stiletto is still hanging on the +library wall by its ribbon, I shall admit my mistake; +if it is absent, why then I shall return to town and +consult with you as to what is best to be done. You +know I rely on you."</p> + +<p>"I shall do whatever you wish, Miss Vrain," said +Lucian fervently.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you," replied the lady gratefully, +"For I have no right to take up your time in +this manner."</p> + +<p>"You have every right—that is, I mean—I +mean," stammered Denzil, thinking from the surprised +look of Miss Vrain that he had gone too far +at so early a stage of their acquaintance. "I mean +that as a briefless barrister I have ample time at +my command, and I shall only be too happy to place +it and myself at your service. And moreover," he +added in a lighter tone, "I have some selfish interest +in the matter, also, for it is not every one who +finds so difficult a riddle as this to solve. I shall +never rest easy in my mind until I unravel the whole +of this tangled skein."</p> + +<p>"How good you are!" cried Diana, impulsively +extending her hand. "It is as impossible for me to +thank you sufficiently now for your kindness as it +will be to reward you hereafter, should we succeed."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>"As to my reward," said Lucian, retaining her +hand longer than was necessary, "we can decide +what I merit when your father's death is avenged."</p> + +<p>Diana coloured and turned away her eyes, +withdrawing her hand in the meantime from the too +warm clasp of the young man. A sense of his meaning +was suddenly borne in upon her by look and +clasp, and she felt a maidenly confusion at the +momentary boldness of this undeclared lover. +However, with feminine tact she laughed off the hint, +and shortly afterwards took her leave, promising to +communicate as speedily as possible with Lucian +regarding the circumstances of her visit to Bath.</p> + +<p>The barrister wished to escort her back to the +Royal John Hotel in Kensington, but Miss Vrain, +guessing his feelings, would not permit this; so +Lucian, hat in hand, was left standing in Geneva +Square, while his divinity drove off in a prosaic +hansom. With her went the glory of the sunlight, +the sweetness of the spring; and Denzil, more in +love than ever, sighed hugely as he walked slowly +back to his lodgings.</p> + +<p>For doleful moods, hard work and other interests +are the sole cure; therefore, that same afternoon +Lucian returned to explore the Silent House on his +own account. It had struck him as suggestive that +the parti-coloured ribbon to which Diana attached +such importance should have been found in so out-of-the-way +a corner as the threshold of the door +which conducted to what Mrs. Kebby, with +characteristic misrepresentation, called the woodshed. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>In reality the place in question was a cellar, which +extended under the soil of the back yard, and was +lighted from the top by a skylight placed on a level +with the ground.</p> + +<p>On being admitted again by Mrs. Kebby, and +sending that ancient female to her Augean task of +cleansing the house, Lucian descended to the basement +in order to examine kitchen and cellar more +particularly. If, as Diana stated, the ribbon had +been knotted loosely about the hilt of the stiletto, +it must have fallen off unnoticed by the assassin +when, weapon in hand, he was retreating from the +scene of crime.</p> + +<p>"He must have come down here from the sitting-room," +mused Denzil, as he stood in the cool, +damp kitchen. "And—as the ribbon was found +by Mrs. Kebby near yonder door—it is most probable +that he left the kitchen by that passage for +the cellar. Now it remains for me to find out how +he made his exit from the cellar; and also I must +look for the stiletto, which he possibly dropped in +his flight, as he did the ribbon."</p> + +<p>While thus soliloquising, Denzil lighted a candle +which he had taken the precaution to bring with +him for the purpose of making his underground +explorations. Having thus provided himself with +means to dispel the darkness, he stepped into the +door and descended the stone stairs which led to +the cellars.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the steps he found himself in a +passage running from the front to the back of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>house, and forthwith turned to the right in order +to reach the particular cellar, which was dug out +in the manner of a cave under the back yard.</p> + +<p>This, as Lucian ascertained by walking round, +was faced with stone and had bins on all four sides +for the storage of wine. Overhead there was a +glass skylight, of which the glass was so dusty +and dirty that only a few rays of light could struggle +into the murky depths below. But what particularly +attracted the attention of Denzil was a +short wooden ladder lying on the stone pavement, +and which probably was used to reach the wine in +the upper bins.</p> + +<p>"And I should not be surprised if it had been +used for another purpose," murmured Lucian, +glancing upward at the square aperture of the skylight.</p> + +<p>It struck him as possible that a stranger could +enter thereby and descend by the ladder. To test +the truth of this he reared the ladder in the middle +of the cellar so that its top rung rested against +the lower edge of the square overhead. Ascending +carefully—for the ladder was by no means stout—he +pushed the glass frame upward and found that +it yielded easily to a moderate amount of strength. +Climbing up, step after step, Lucian arose through +the aperture like a genie out of the earth, and soon +found that he could jump easily out of the cellar +into the yard.</p> + +<p>"Good!" he exclaimed, much gratified by this +discovery. "I now see how the assassin entered. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>No wonder the kitchen door was bolted and barred, +and that no one was seen to visit Vrain by the front +door. Any one who knew the position of that skylight +could obtain admission easily, at any hour, +by descending the ladder and passing through cellar +and kitchen to the upper part of the house. So +much is clear, but I must next discover how those +who entered got into this yard."</p> + +<p>And, indeed, there seemed no outlet, for the +yard was enclosed on three sides by a fence of palings +the height of a man, and rendered impervious +to damp by a coating of tar; on the fourth side by +the house itself. Only over the fence—which was +no insuperable obstacle—could a stranger have +gained access to the yard; and towards the fence +opposite to the house Lucian walked. In it there +was no gate, or opening of any kind, so it would +appear that to come into the yard a stranger would +need to climb over, a feat easily achieved by a +moderately active man.</p> + +<p>As Denzil examined this frail barrier his eye +was caught by a fluttering object on the left—that +is, the side in a line with the skylight. This he +found was the scrap of a woman's veil of thin black +gauze spotted with velvet. At once his thoughts +reverted to the shadow of the woman on the blind, +and the suspicions of Diana Vrain.</p> + +<p>"Great heavens!" he thought, "can that doll +of a Lydia be guilty, after all?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE VEIL AND ITS OWNER</h3> + + +<p>As may be surmised, Lucian was considerably +startled by the discovery of this important evidence +so confirmative of Diana's suspicions. Yet the +knowledge which Link had gained relative to Mrs. +Vrain's remaining at Berwin Manor to keep Christmas +seemed to contradict the fact; and he could +by no means reconcile her absence with the presence +on the fence of the fragment of gauze; still +less with the supposition that she must have climbed +over a tolerably difficult obstacle to enter the yard, +let alone the necessity—by no means easy to a +woman—of descending into the disused cellar by +means of a shaky and fragile ladder.</p> + +<p>"After all," thought Lucian, when he was seated +that same evening at his dinner, "I am no more +certain that the veil is the property of Mrs. Vrain +than I am that she was the woman whose shadow +I saw on the blind. Whosoever it was that gained +entrance by passing over fence and through cellar, +must have come across the yard belonging to the +house facing the other road. Therefore, the person +must be known to the owner of that house, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>I must discover who the owner is. Miss Greeb +will know."</p> + +<p>Lucian made this last remark with the greatest +confidence, as he was satisfied, from a long acquaintance +with his landlady, that there was very little +concerning her own neighbourhood of which she +was ignorant. The result verified his belief, for +when Miss Greeb came in to clear the table—a +duty she invariably undertook so as to have a chance +of conversing with her admired lodger—she was +able to afford him the fullest information on the +subject. The position of the house in question; the +name of its owner; the character of its tenants; she +was thoroughly well posted up in every item, and +willingly imparted her knowledge with much detail +and comment.</p> + +<p>"No. 9 Jersey Street," said she, unhesitatingly; +"that is the number of the house at the back of the +haunted mansion, Mr. Denzil. I know it as well +as I know my ten fingers."</p> + +<p>"To whom does it belong?" asked Lucian.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Peacock; he owns most of the property +round about here, having bought up the land when +the place was first built on. He's seventy years of +age, you know, Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Greeb +conversationally, "and rich!—Lord! I don't know +how rich he is! Building houses cheap and letting +them dear; he has made more out of that than +in sanding his sugar and chicorying his coffee. +He——"</p> + +<p>"What is the name of the tenant?" interrupted +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>Lucian, cutting short this rapid sketch of Peacock's +life.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bensusan, one of the largest women hereabouts."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand."</p> + +<p>"Fat, Mr. Denzil. She turns the scale at eighteen +stone, and has pretty well broke every weighing +machine in the place."</p> + +<p>"What reputation has she, Miss Greeb?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, pretty good," said the little woman, shrugging +her shoulders, "though they do say she overcharges +and underfeeds her lodgers."</p> + +<p>"She keeps a boarding-house, then?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she lets rooms," explained Miss Greeb in +a very definite manner, "and those who live in them +supply their own food, and pay for service and +kitchen fire."</p> + +<p>"Who is with her now?"</p> + +<p>"No one," replied the landlady promptly. "She's +had her bill up these three months. Her last lodger +left about Christmas."</p> + +<p>"What is his name—or her name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was a 'he,'" said Miss Greeb, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bensusan prefers gentlemen, who are out of +doors all day, to ladies muddling and meddling all +day about the house. I must say I do, too, Mr. +Denzil," ended the lady, with a fascinating glance.</p> + +<p>"What is his name, Miss Greeb?" repeated Lucian, +quite impervious to the hint.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," said Miss Greeb, discomfited at +the result of her failure. "A queer name that had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>to do with payments. Bill as the short for William. +No, it wasn't that, although it does suggest an account. +Quarterday? No. But it had something +to do with quarter-days. Rent!" finished Miss +Greeb triumphantly. "Rent, with a 'W' before +it."</p> + +<p>"W-r-e-n-t!" spelled Lucian.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Wrent! Mr. Wrent. A strange name, +Mr. Denzil—a kind of charade, as I may say. He +was with Mrs. Bensusan six months; came to her +house about the time Mr. Berwin hired No. 13."</p> + +<p>"Very strange!" assented Lucian, to stop further +comment. "What kind of a man was this Mr. +Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I never heard much about him," +replied Miss Greeb regretfully. "May I ask why +you want to know all this, Mr. Denzil?"</p> + +<p>Lucian hesitated, as he rather dreaded the chattering +tongue of his landlady, and did not wish his +connection with the Vrain case to become public +property in Geneva Square. Still, Miss Greeb was +a valuable ally, if only for her wide acquaintance +with the neighbourhood, its inhabitants, and their +doings. Therefore, after a moment's reflection, he +resolved to secure Miss Greeb as a coadjutor, and +risk her excessive garrulity.</p> + +<p>"Can you keep a secret, Miss Greeb?" he asked, +with impressive solemnity.</p> + +<p>Struck by his serious air, and at once on fire with +curiosity to learn its reason, Miss Greeb loudly +protested that she should sooner die than breathe +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>a word of what her lodger was about to divulge. +She hinted, with many a mysterious look and nod, +that secrets endangering the domestic happiness of +every family in the square were known to her, and +appealed to the fact that such families still lived +in harmony as a proof that she was to be trusted.</p> + +<p>"Wild horses wouldn't drag out of me what I +know!" cried Miss Greeb earnestly. "You can confide +in me as you would in a"—she was about to +say mother, but recollecting her juvenile looks, substituted +the word "sister."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said Lucian, explaining just as +much as would serve his purpose. "Then I may +tell you, Miss Greeb, that I suspect the assassin +of Mr. Vrain entered through Mrs. Bensusan's +house, and so got into the yard of No. 13."</p> + +<p>"Lord!" cried Miss Greeb, taken by surprise. +"You don't say, sir, that Mr. Wrent is a murdering +villain, steeped in gore?"</p> + +<p>"No! No!" replied Lucian, smiling at this highly-coloured +description. "Do not jump to conclusions, +Miss Greeb. So far as I am aware, this Mr. Wrent +you speak of is innocent. Do you know Mrs. Bensusan +and her house well?"</p> + +<p>"I've visited both several times, Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, tell me," continued the barrister, +"is the house built with a full frontage like those +in this square? I mean, to gain Mrs. Bensusan's +back yard is it necessary to go through Mrs. Bensusan's +house?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Miss Greeb, shutting her eyes to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>conjure up the image of her friend's premises. "You +can go round the back through the side passage +which leads in from Jersey Road."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Lucian in a dissatisfied tone. "That +complicates matters."</p> + +<p>"How so, sir?" demanded the curious landlady.</p> + +<p>"Never mind just now, Miss Greeb. Do you +think you could draw me a plan of this passage of +Mrs. Bensusan's house, and of No. 13, with the +yards between?"</p> + +<p>"I never could sketch," said Miss Greeb regretfully, +"and I am no artist, Mr. Denzil, but I think +I can do what you want."</p> + +<p>"Here is a sheet of paper and a pencil. Will +you sketch me the houses as clearly as you can?"</p> + +<p>With much reflection and nibbling of the pencil, +and casting of her eyes up to the ceiling to aid her +memory, Miss Greeb in ten minutes produced the +required sketch.</p> + +<p>"There you are, Mr. Denzil," said Miss Greeb, +placing this work of art before the barrister, "that's +as good as I can draw."</p> + +<p>"It is excellent, Miss Greeb," replied Lucian, +examining the plan. "I see that anyone can get +into Mrs. Bensusan's yard through the side passage."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; but I don't think a person could without +being seen by Mrs. Bensusan or Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"Who is Rhoda?"</p> + +<p>"The servant. She's as sharp as a needle, but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>an idle slut, for all that, Mr. Denzil. They say +she's a gypsy of some kind."</p> + +<p>"Is the gate of this passage locked at night?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Then what is to prevent any one coming in +under cover of darkness and climbing the fence? +He would escape then being seen by the landlady +and her servant."</p> + +<p>"I daresay; but he'd be seen climbing over the +fence from the back windows of the houses on each +side of No. 13."</p> + +<p>"Not if he chose a dark night for the climbing."</p> + +<p>"Well, even if he did, how could he get into +No. 13?" argued Miss Greeb. "You know I've +read the report of the case, Mr. Denzil, and it +couldn't be found out (as the kitchen door was +locked, and no stranger entered the square) how the +murdering assassin got in."</p> + +<p>"I may discover even that," replied Lucian, not +choosing to tell Miss Greeb that he had already discovered +the entrance. "With time and inquiry and +observation we can do much. Thank you, Miss +Greeb," he continued, slipping the drawing of the +plan into his breast coat pocket. "I am much +obliged for your information. Of course you'll repeat +our conversation to no one?"</p> + +<p>"I swear to breathe no word," said Miss Greeb +dramatically, and left the room greatly pleased with +this secret understanding, which had quite the air +of an innocent intrigue such as was detailed in +journals designed for the use of the family circle.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>For the next day or two Lucian mused over the +information he had obtained, and made a fresh +drawing of the plan for his own satisfaction; but +he took no steps on this new evidence, as he was +anxious to submit his discoveries to Miss Vrain +before doing so. At the present time Diana was +at Bath, taking possession of her ancestral acres, +and consulting the family lawyer on various matters +connected with the property.</p> + +<p>Once she wrote to Lucian, advising him that she +had heard several pieces of news likely to be useful +in clearing up the mystery; but these she refused +to communicate save at a personal interview. Denzil +was thus kept in suspense, and unable to rest +until he knew precisely the value of Miss Vrain's +newly acquired information; therefore it was with +a feeling of relief that he received a note from her +asking him to call at three o'clock on Sunday at +the Royal John Hotel.</p> + +<p>Since her going and coming a week had elapsed.</p> + +<p>Now that his divinity had returned, and he was +about to see her again, the sun shone once more +in the heavens for Lucian, and he arrayed himself +for his visit with the utmost care. His heart beat +violently and his colour rose as he was ushered into +the little sitting-room, and he thought less of the +case at the moment than of the joy in seeing Miss +Vrain once more, in hearing her speak, and watching +her lovely face.</p> + +<p>On her part, Diana, recollecting their last meeting, +or more particularly their parting, blushed in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>her turn, and gave her hand to the barrister with +a new-born timidity. She also was inclined to like +Lucian more than was reasonable for the peace of +her heart; so these two people, each drawn to the +other, should have come together as lovers even at +this second meeting.</p> + +<p>But, alas! for the prosaicness of this workaday +world, they had to assume the attitudes of lawyer +and client; and discourse of crime instead of love. +The situation was a trifle ironical, and must have +provoked the laughter of the gods.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked Miss Vrain, getting to business +as soon as Lucian was seated, "and what have you +found out?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal likely to be of service to us. And +you?"</p> + +<p>"I!" replied Miss Vrain in a satisfied tone. "I +have discovered that the stiletto with the ribbon is +gone from the library."</p> + +<p>"Who took it away?"</p> + +<p>"No one knows. I can't find out, although I +asked all the servants; but it has been missing from +its place for some months."</p> + +<p>"Do you think Mrs. Vrain took it?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say," replied Diana, "but I have made +one discovery about Mrs. Vrain which implicates +her still more in the crime. She was not in Berwin +Manor on Christmas Eve, but in town."</p> + +<p>"Really!" said Lucian much amazed. "But +Link was told that she spent Christmas in the +Manor at Bath."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>"So she did. Link asked generally, and was answered +generally. Mrs. Vrain went up to town on +Christmas Eve and returned on Christmas Day; +but," said Diana, with emphasis, "she spent the +night in town, and on that night the murder was +committed."</p> + +<p>Lucian produced his pocketbook and took therefrom +the fragment of gauze, which he handed to +Diana.</p> + +<p>"I found this on the fence at the back of No. +13," he said. "It is a veil—a portion of a velvet-spotted +veil."</p> + +<p>"A velvet-spotted veil!" cried Diana, looking +at it. "Then it belongs to Lydia Vrain. She usually +wears velvet-spotted veils. Mr. Denzil, the +evidence is complete—that woman is guilty!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>GOSSIP</h3> + + +<p>Going by circumstantial evidence, Diana certainly +had good grounds to accuse Mrs. Vrain of +committing the crime, for there were four points +at least which could be proved past all doubt as +incriminating her strongly in the matter.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the female shadow on the blind +seen by Lucian, showed that a woman had been in +the habit of entering the house by the secret way +of the cellar, and during the absence of Vrain.</p> + +<p>Secondly, the finding of the parti-coloured ribbon +in the Silent House, which had been knotted +round the handle of the stiletto by Diana, and the +absence of the stiletto itself from its usual place +on the wall of the Berwin Manor library, proved +that the weapon had been removed therefrom to +London, and, presumably, used to commit the deed, +seeing that otherwise there was no necessity for its +presence in the Geneva Square mansion.</p> + +<p>Thirdly, Diana had discovered that Lydia had +spent the night of the murder in town; and, lastly, +she also declared that the fragment of gauze found +by Lucian on the dividing fence was the property +of Mrs. Vrain.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>This quartette of charges was recapitulated by +Diana in support of her accusation of her stepmother.</p> + +<p>"I always suspected Lydia as indirectly guilty," +she declared in concluding her speech for the prosecution, +"but I was not certain until now that she +had actually struck the blow herself."</p> + +<p>"But did she?" said Denzil, by no means convinced.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what further evidence you require +to prove it," retorted Diana indignantly. "She +was in town on Christmas Eve; she took the stiletto +from the library, and——"</p> + +<p>"You can't prove that," interrupted Lucian decidedly. +Then, seeing the look of anger on Diana's +face, he hastened to apologise. "Excuse me, Miss +Vrain," he said nervously. "I am not the less your +friend because I combat your arguments; but in +this case it is necessary to look on both sides of the +question. Is it possible to prove that Mrs. Vrain +removed this dagger?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody actually saw it in her possession," replied +Diana, who was more amenable to reason than +the majority of her sex, "but I can prove that the +stiletto, with its ribbon, remained in the library after +the departure of my father. If Lydia did not +take it, who else had occasion to bring it up to +London?"</p> + +<p>"Let us say Count Ferruci," suggested Denzil.</p> + +<p>Diana pointed to the fragment of the veil lying +on the table. "On the evidence of that piece of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>gauze," she said, "it was Lydia who entered the +house. Again, you saw her shadow on the window +blind."</p> + +<p>"I saw two shadows," corrected Lucian hastily, +"those of a man and a woman."</p> + +<p>"In plain English, Mr. Denzil, those of Mrs. +Vrain and Count Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"We cannot be certain of that."</p> + +<p>"But circumstantial evidence——"</p> + +<p>"Is not always conclusive, Miss Vrain."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, sir, you seem inclined to defend +this woman!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Vrain," said Lucian seriously, "if we don't +give her the benefit of every doubt the jury will, +should she be tried on this charge. I admit that +the evidence against this woman is strong, but it +is not certain; and I argue the case looking at it +from her point of view—the only view which is +likely to be taken by her counsel. If Mrs. Vrain +killed her husband she must have had a strong motive +to do so."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Diana impatiently, "there is the +assurance money."</p> + +<p>"I don't know if that motive is quite strong +enough to justify this woman in risking her neck," +responded the barrister. "As Mrs. Vrain of Berwin +Manor she had an ample income, for your +father seems to have left all the rents to her, and +spent but little on himself; also she had an assured +position, and, on the whole, a happy life. Why +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>should she risk losing these advantages to gain +more money?"</p> + +<p>"She wanted to marry Ferruci," said Diana, +driven to another point of defence. "She was almost +engaged to him before she married my foolish +father; she invited him to Berwin Manor against +the wish of her husband, and showed plainly that +she loved him sufficiently to commit a crime for his +sake. With my father dead, and she in possession +of £20,000, she could hope to marry this Italian."</p> + +<p>"Can you prove that she was so reckless?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can," replied Miss Vrain defiantly. "The +same person who told me that Lydia was not at +Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve can tell you that +her behaviour with Count Ferruci was the talk of +Bath."</p> + +<p>"Who is this person?" asked Lucian, looking +up.</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine—Miss Tyler. I brought her +up with me, so that you should get her information +at first hand. You can see her at once," and Diana +rose to ring the bell.</p> + +<p>"One moment," interposed Lucian, before she +could touch the button. "Tell me if Miss Tyler +knows your reason for bringing her up."</p> + +<p>"I have not told her directly," said Diana, with +some bluntness, "but as she is no fool, I fancy she +suspects. Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because I have something to tell you which I +do not wish your friend to hear, unless," added +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>Lucian significantly, "you desire to take her into +our confidence."</p> + +<p>"No," said Diana promptly. "I do not think it +is wise to take her into our confidence. She is rather—well, +to put it plainly, Mr. Denzil—rather a +gossip."</p> + +<p>"H'm! As such, do you consider her evidence +reliable?"</p> + +<p>"We can pick the grains of wheat out of the +chaff. No doubt she exaggerates and garbles, after +the fashion of a scandal-loving woman, but her evidence +is valuable, especially as showing that Lydia +was not at Bath on Christmas Eve. We will tell +her nothing, so she can suspect as much as she likes; +if we do speak freely she will spread the gossip, and +if we don't, she will invent worse facts; so in either +case it doesn't matter. What is it you have to tell +me?"</p> + +<p>Lucian could scarcely forbear smiling at Diana's +candidly expressed estimate of her ally's character, +but, fearful of giving offence to his companion, he +speedily composed his features. With much explanation +and an exhibition of Miss Greeb's plan, +he gave an account of his discoveries, beginning +with his visit to the cellar, and ending with the important +conversation with his landlady. Diana listened +attentively, and when he concluded gave it as +her opinion that Lydia had entered the first yard +by the side passage and had climbed over the fence +into the second, "as is clearly proved by the veil," +she concluded decisively.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p><p>"But why should she take all that trouble, and +run the risk of being seen, when it is plain that your +father expected her?"</p> + +<p>"Expected her!" cried Diana, thunderstruck. +"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know so much about that," replied Lucian +drily, "although I admit that on the face of it +my assertion appears improbable. But when I met +your father the second time, he was so anxious to +prove, by letting me examine the house, that no +one had entered it during his absence, that I am +certain he was well aware the shadows I saw were +those of people he knew were in the room. Now, if +the woman was Mrs. Vrain, she must have been in +the habit of visiting your father by the back way."</p> + +<p>"And Ferruci also?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure if the male shadow was Ferruci, +no more than I am certain the other was Mrs. +Vrain."</p> + +<p>"But the veil?"</p> + +<p>Lucian shrugged his shoulders in despair. "That +seems to prove it was she," he said dubiously, "but +I can't explain your father's conduct in receiving +her in so secretive a way. The whole thing is beyond +me."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is to be done?" said Diana, after +a pause, during which they looked blankly at one +another.</p> + +<p>"I must think. My head is too confused just +now with this conflicting evidence to plan any line +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>of action. As a relief, let us examine your friend +and hear what she has to say."</p> + +<p>Diana assented, and touched the bell. Shortly, +Miss Tyler appeared, ushered in by a nervous waiter, +to whom it would seem she had addressed a +sharp admonition on his want of deference. Immediately +on entering she pounced down on Miss +Vrain like a hawk on a dove, pecked her on both +cheeks, addressed her as "my dearest Di," and +finally permitted herself, with downcast eyes and +a modest demeanour, to be introduced to Lucian.</p> + +<p>It might be inferred from the foregoing description +that Miss Tyler was a young and ardent damsel +in her teens; whereas she was considerably nearer +forty than thirty, and possessed an uncomely aspect +unpleasing to male eyes. Her own were of +a cold grey, her lips were thin, her waist pinched +in, and—as the natural consequence of tight lacing—her +nose was red. Her scanty hair was drawn +off her high forehead very tightly, and screwed into +a cast-iron knob at the nape of her long neck; and +she smiled occasionally in an acid manner, with +many teeth. She wore a plainly-made green dress, +with a toby frill; and a large silver cross dangled on +her flat bosom. Altogether, she was about as venomous +a specimen of an unappropriated blessing as +can well be imagined.</p> + +<p>"Bella," said Miss Vrain to this unattractive female, +"for certain reasons, which I may tell you +hereafter, Mr. Denzil wishes to know if Mrs. +Vrain was at Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>"Of course she was not, dearest Di," said Bella, +drooping her elderly head on one scraggy shoulder, +with an acid smile. "Didn't I tell you so? I was +asked by Lydia—alas! I wish I could say my dearest +Lydia—to spend Christmas at Berwin Manor. +She invited me for my singing and playing, you +know: and as we all have to make ourselves agreeable, +I came to see her. On the day before Christmas +she received a letter by the early post which +seemed to upset her a great deal, and told me she +would have to run up to town on business. She did, +and stayed all night, and came down next morning +to keep Christmas. I thought it <i>very</i> strange."</p> + +<p>"What was her business in town, Miss Tyler?" +asked Lucian.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she didn't tell <i>me</i>," said Bella, tossing her +head, "at least not directly, but I gathered from +what she said that something was wrong with poor +dear Mr. Clyne—her father, you know, dearest +Di."</p> + +<p>"Was the letter from him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I couldn't say that, Mr. Denzil, as I don't +know, and I never speak by hearsay. So much mischief +is done in the world by people repeating idle +tales of which they are not sure."</p> + +<p>"Was Count Ferruci at Berwin Manor at the +time?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me, no, Di! I told you that he was +up in London the whole of Christmas week. I only +hope," added Miss Tyler, with a venomous smile, +"that Lydia did not go up to meet him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p>"Why should she?" demanded Lucian bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not blind!" cried Bella, shrilly laughing. +"No, indeed. The Count—a most amiable +man—was <i>very</i> attentive to me at one time; and +Lydia—a married woman—I regret to say, did +not like him being so. I am indeed sorry to repeat +scandal, Mr. Denzil, but the way in which Mrs. +Vrain behaved towards me and carried on with the +Count was not creditable. I am a gentlewoman, +Mr. Denzil, and a churchwoman, and as such cannot +countenance such conduct as his."</p> + +<p>"You infer, then, that Mrs. Vrain was in love +with the Italian?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't be at all surprised to hear it," cried +Bella again. "But he did not care for her! Oh, +dear, no! It is my belief, Mr. Denzil, that Mrs. +Vrain knows more about the death of her husband +than she chooses to admit. Oh, I've read <i>all</i> the +papers; I know <i>all</i> about the death."</p> + +<p>"Miss Tyler!" said Lucian, alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Bella!" cried Miss Vrain. "I——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not blind, dearest," interrupted Bella, +speaking very fast. "I know you ask me these +questions to find out if Lydia killed her husband. +Well, she did!"</p> + +<p>"How do you know, Miss Tyler?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm sure of it, Mr. Denzil. Wasn't +Mr. Vrain stabbed with a dagger? Very well, then. +There was a dagger hanging in the library of the +Manor, and I saw it there four days before Christ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>mas. +When I looked for it on Christmas Day it +was gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone! Who took it?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vrain!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am!" snapped Miss Tyler. "I didn't +see her take it, but it was there before she went, and +it wasn't there on Christmas Day. If Lydia did +not take it, who did?"</p> + +<p>"Count Ferruci, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"He wasn't there! No!" cried Bella, raising +her head, "I'm sure Mrs. Vrain stole it and killed +her husband, and I don't care who hears me say +so!"</p> + +<p>Diana and Lucian looked at one another in silence.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE HOUSE IN JERSEY STREET</h3> + + +<p>As her listeners made no comment on Miss +Tyler's accusation of Mrs. Vrain, she paused only +for a moment to recover her breath, and was off +again in full cry with a budget of ancient gossip +drawn from a very retentive memory.</p> + +<p>"Of the way in which Lydia treated her poor +dear husband I know little," cried the fair Bella. +"Only this, that she drove him out of the house by +her scandalous conduct. Yes, indeed; although you +may not believe me, Di. You were away in Australia +at the time, but I kept a watch on Lydia in +your interest, dear, and our housemaid heard from +your housemaid the most dreadful things. Why, +Mr. Vrain remonstrated with Lydia, and ordered +Count Ferruci out of the house, but Lydia would +not let him go; and Mr. Vrain left the house himself."</p> + +<p>"Where did he go to, Miss Tyler?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; nobody knows. But it is my +opinion," said the spinster, with a significant look, +"that he went to London to see about a divorce. +But he was weak in the head, poor man, and I sup<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>pose +let things go on. When next I heard of him +he was a corpse in Geneva Square."</p> + +<p>"But did my father tell his wife that he was in +Geneva Square?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest Di, I can't say; but I don't believe he +had anything to do with her after he left the +house."</p> + +<p>"Then if she did not know his whereabouts, how +could she kill him?" asked Denzil pertinently.</p> + +<p>Brought to a point which she could not evade, +Bella declined to answer this question, but tossed +her head and bit her lip, with a fine colour. All her +accusations of Mrs. Vrain had been made generally, +and, as Lucian noted, were unsupported by +fact. From a legal point of view this spiteful gossip +of a jealous woman was worth nothing, but in +a broad sense it was certainly useful in showing the +discord which had existed between Vrain and his +wife. Lucian saw that little good was to be gained +from this prejudiced witness, so thanking Miss +Tyler courteously for her information, he arose to +go.</p> + +<p>"Wait for a moment, Mr. Denzil," said Diana +hurriedly. "I want to ask you something. Bella, +would you mind——"</p> + +<p>"Leaving the room? Oh, dear, no!" burst out +Miss Tyler, annoyed at being excluded. "I've said +all I have to say, and anything I can do, dearest +Di, to assist you and Mr. Denzil in hanging that +woman, I——"</p> + +<p>"Miss Tyler," interrupted Lucian sternly, "you +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>must not speak so wildly, for as yet there is nothing +to prove that Mrs. Vrain is guilty."</p> + +<p>"She is guilty enough for me, Mr. Denzil; but +like all men, I suppose you take her side, because +she is supposed to be pretty. Pretty!" reflected +Bella scornfully, "I never could see it myself; a +painted up minx, dragged up from the gutter. I +wonder at your taste, Mr. Denzil, indeed I do. +Pretty, the idea! What fools men are! I'm glad I +never married one! Indeed no! He! he!"</p> + +<p>And with a shrill laugh to point this sour-grape +sentiment, and mark her disdain for Lucian, the +fair Bella took herself and her lean form out of +the room.</p> + +<p>Diana and the barrister were too deeply interested +in their business to take much notice of Bella's +hysterical outburst, but looked at one another gravely +as she departed.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Denzil," said the former, repeating +her earlier question, "what is to be done now? +Shall we see Mrs. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," replied Lucian quickly. "We must +secure proofs of Mrs. Vrain's being in that yard +before we can get any confession out of her. If +you will leave it in my hands, Miss Vrain, I shall +call on Mrs. Bensusan."</p> + +<p>"Who is Mrs. Bensusan?"</p> + +<p>"She is the tenant of the house in Jersey Street. +It is possible that she or her servant may know +something about the illegal use made of the right +of way."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, I think that is the next step to take. But +what am I to do in the meantime?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. If I were you I would not even see +Mrs. Vrain."</p> + +<p>"I will not seek her voluntarily," replied Diana, +"but as I have been to Berwin Manor she is certain +to hear that I am in England, and may perhaps +find out my address, and call. But if she does, you +may be sure that I will be most judicious in my +remarks."</p> + +<p>"I leave all that to your discretion," said Denzil, +rising. "Good-bye, Miss Vrain. As soon as I am +in possession of any new evidence I shall call +again."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Mr. Denzil, and thank you for all +your kindness."</p> + +<p>Diana made this remark with so kindly a look, +so becoming a blush, and so warm a pressure of +the hand, that Lucian felt quite overcome, and not +trusting himself to speak, walked swiftly out of +the room.</p> + +<p>In spite of the gravity of the task in which he +was concerned, at that moment he thought more of +Diana's looks and speech than of the detective business +which he had taken up for love's sake. But +on reaching his rooms in Geneva Square he made +a mighty effort to waken from these day dreams, +and with a stern determination addressed himself +resolutely to the work in hand.</p> + +<p>In this case the bitter came before the sweet. +But by accomplishing the desire of Diana, and solv<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>ing +the mystery of her father's death, Lucian hoped +to win not only her smiles but the more substantial +reward of her heart and hand.</p> + +<p>Before calling on Mrs. Bensusan the barrister debated +within himself as to whether it would not be +judicious to call in again the assistance of Link, and +by telling him of the new evidence which had been +found place him thereby in possession of new material +to prosecute the case. But Link lately had +taken so pessimistic a view of the matter that Lucian +fancied he would scoff at his late discoveries, and +discourage him in prosecuting what seemed to be +a fruitless quest.</p> + +<p>Denzil was anxious, as Diana's knight, to do +as much of the work as possible in order to gain +the reward of her smiles. It is true that he had +no legal authority to make these inquiries, and it +was possible that Mrs. Bensusan might refuse to +answer questions concerning her own business, unsanctioned +by law; but on recalling the description +of Miss Greeb, Lucian fancied that Mrs. Bensusan, +as a fat woman, might only be good-natured +and timid.</p> + +<p>He therefore dismissed all ideas of asking Link +to intervene, and resolved to risk a personal interview +with the tenant of the Jersey Street house. It +would be time enough to invite Link's assistance, +he thought, when Mrs. Bensusan—as yet an unknown +quantity in the case—proved obstinate in +replying to his questions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bensusan proved to be quite as stout as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>Miss Greeb had reported. A gigantically fat woman, +she made up in breadth what she lacked in +length. Yet she seemed to have some activity about +her, too, for she opened the door personally to +Lucian, who was quite amazed when he beheld her +monstrous bulk blocking up the doorway. Her +face was white and round like a pale moon; she +had staring eyes of a china blue, resembling the +vacant optics of a wax doll; and, on the whole, +appeared to be a timid, lymphatic woman, likely to +answer any questions put to her in a sufficiently +peremptory tone. Lucian foresaw that he was not +likely to have much trouble with this mountain of +flesh.</p> + +<p>"What might you be pleased to want, sir?" she +asked Lucian, in the meekest of voices. "Is it about +the lodgings?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the barrister boldly, for he +guessed that Mrs. Bensusan would scuttle back into +the house like a rabbit to its burrow, did he speak +too plainly at the outset, "that is—I wish to inquire +about a friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"Did he lodge here, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. A Mr. Wrent."</p> + +<p>"Deary me!" said the fat woman, with mild +surprise. "Mr. Wrent left me shortly after Christmas. +A kind gentleman, but timid; he——"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," interrupted Lucian, who wanted +to get into the house, "but don't you think you could +tell me about my friend in a more convenient situation?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, yes, sir—certainly, sir," wheezed Mrs. +Bensusan, rolling back up the narrow passage. "I +beg your pardon, sir, for my forgetfulness, but my +head ain't what it ought to be. I'm a lone widow, +sir, and not over strong."</p> + +<p>Denzil could have laughed at this description, +as the lady's bulk gave the lie to her assertion. +However, on diplomatic grounds he suppressed his +mirth, and followed his ponderous guide into a sitting-room +so small that she almost filled it herself.</p> + +<p>As he left the passage he saw a brilliant red head +pop down the staircase leading to the basement; +but whether it was that of a man or a woman he +could not say. Still, on recalling Miss Greeb's description +of the Bensusan household, he concluded +that the red head was the property of Rhoda, the +sharp servant, and argued from her appearance in +the background, and rapid disappearance, that she +was in the habit of listening to conversations she +was not meant to hear.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bensusan sat down on the sofa, as being +most accommodating to her bulk, and cast a watery +look around the small apartment, which was furnished +in that extraordinary fashion which seems +to be the peculiar characteristic of boarding houses. +The walls and carpet were patterned with glowing +bunches of red roses; the furniture was covered with +stamped red velvet; the ornaments consisted of +shells, wax fruit under glass shades, mats of Berlin +wool, vases with dangling pendants of glass, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>such like elegant survivals of the early Victorian +epoch.</p> + +<p>Hideous as the apartment was, it seemed to afford +Mrs. Bensusan—also a survival—great pleasure; +and she cast a complacent look around as +Lucian seated himself on an uncomfortable chair +covered with an antimacassar of crochet work.</p> + +<p>"My rooms are most comfortable, an' much +liked," said Mrs. Bensusan, sighing, "but I have +not had many lodgers lately. Rhoda thinks it must +be on account of that horrible murder."</p> + +<p>"The murder of Vrain in No. 13?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" groaned the fat woman, looking tearfully +over her double chin, "I see you have heard +of it."</p> + +<p>"Everybody has heard of it," replied Lucian, +"and I was one of the first to hear, since I live in +Miss Greeb's house, opposite No. 13."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir!" grunted Mrs. Bensusan, stiffening +a little at the sound of a rival lodging-house keeper's +name. "Then you are Mr. Denzil, the gentleman +who occupies Miss Greeb's first floor front."</p> + +<p>"Yes. And I have come to ask you a few questions."</p> + +<p>"About what, sir?" said Mrs. Bensusan, visibly +alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Concerning Mr. Wrent."</p> + +<p>"You are a friend of his?"</p> + +<p>"I said so, Mrs. Bensusan, but as a matter of fact +I never set eyes on the gentleman in my life."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bensusan gasped like a fish out of water, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>and patted her fat breast with her fat hand, as +though to give herself courage. "It is not like a +gentleman to say that another gentleman's his +friend when he ain't," she said, with an attempt at +dignity.</p> + +<p>"Very true," answered Lucian, with great composure, +"but you know the saying, 'All is fair in +love and war.' I will be plain with you, Mrs. Bensusan," +he added, "I am here to seek possible evidence +in connection with the murder of Mr. Vrain, +in No. 13, on Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bensusan gave a kind of hoarse screech, +and stared at Lucian in a horrified manner.</p> + +<p>"Murder!" she repeated. "Lord! what mur—that +murder! Mr. Vrain! Mr. Vrain—that murder!" +she repeated over and over again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the murder of Mr. Vrain in No. 13 Geneva +Square on Christmas Eve. Now do you understand?"</p> + +<p>With another gasp Mrs. Bensusan threw up her +fat hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"As I am a Christian woman, sir," she cried, "I +am as innocent as a babe unborn!"</p> + +<p>"Of what?" asked Lucian sharply.</p> + +<p>"Of the murder!" wept Mrs. Bensusan, now dissolved +in tears. "Rhoda said——"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear what Rhoda said," interrupted +Lucian impatiently, "and I am not accusing +you of the murder. But—your house is at the back +of No. 13."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," replied Mrs. Bensusan, weeping like a +Niobe.</p> + +<p>"And a fence divides your yard from that of No. +13?"</p> + +<p>"I won't contradict you, sir—it do."</p> + +<p>"And there is a passage leading from Jersey +Street into your yard?"</p> + +<p>"There is, Mr. Denzil; it's useful for the trades-people."</p> + +<p>"And I daresay useful to others," said Lucian +drily. "Now, Mrs. Bensusan, do you know if any +lady was in the habit of passing through that passage +at night?"</p> + +<p>Before Mrs. Bensusan could answer the door was +dashed open, and Rhoda, the red-headed, darted +into the room.</p> + +<p>"Don't answer, missus!" she cried shortly. "As +you love me, mum, don't!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>RHODA AND THE CLOAK</h3> + + +<p>The one servant of Mrs. Bensusan was a girl of +seventeen, who had a local fame in the neighbourhood +on account of her sharp tongue and many precocious +qualities. No one knew who her parents +were, or where the fat landlady had picked her up; +but she had been in the Jersey Street house some +ten years, and had been educated and—in a manner—adopted +by its mistress, although Mrs. Bensusan +always gave her cronies to understand that Rhoda +was simply and solely the domestic of the establishment.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, for one of her humble position, +she had a wonderful power over her stout employer, +the power of a strong mind over a weak one, +and in spite of her youth it was well known that +Rhoda managed the domestic economy of the house. +Mrs. Bensusan was the sovereign, Rhoda the prime +minister.</p> + +<p>This position she had earned by dint of her own +sharpness in dealing with the world. And the local +tradesmen were afraid of Rhoda. "Mrs. Bensusan's +devil," they called her, and never dared to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>give short weight, or charge extra prices, or pass +off damaged goods as new, when Rhoda was the +purchaser. On the contrary, No. 9 Jersey Street +was supplied with everything of the best, promptly +and civilly, at ordinary market rates; for neither +butcher, nor baker, nor candlestick maker, was daring +enough to risk Rhoda's tongue raging like a +prairie fire over their shortcomings. Several landladies, +knowing Rhoda's value, had tried to entice +her from Mrs. Bensusan by offers of higher wages +and better quarters, but the girl refused to leave +her stout mistress, and so continued quite a fixture +of the lodgings. Even in the city, Rhoda had been +spoken of by clerks who had lived in Jersey Street, +and so had more than a local reputation for originality.</p> + +<p>This celebrated handmaid was as lean as her +mistress was stout. Her hair was magnificent in +quality and quantity, but, alas! was of the unpopular +tint called red; not auburn, or copper hued, or +the famous Titian color, but a blazing, fiery red, +which made it look like a comic wig. Her face +was pale and freckled, her eyes black—in strange +contrast to her hair, and her mouth large, but garnished +with an excellent set of white teeth.</p> + +<p>Rhoda was not neat in her attire, perhaps not +having arrived at the age of coquetry, for she wore +a dingy grey dress much too short for her, a pair of +carpet slippers which had been left by a departed +lodger, and usually went about with her sleeves +tucked up, and a resolute look on her sharp face. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>Such was the appearance of Mrs. Bensusan's devil, +who entered to forbid her mistress confiding in +Lucian.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rhoda!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "You +bad gal! I believe as you've 'ad your ear to the +keyhole."</p> + +<p>"I 'ave!" retorted Rhoda defiantly. "It's been +there for five minutes, and good it is for you, mum, +as I ain't above listening. What do you mean, sir," +she cried, turning on Lucian like a fierce sparrow, +"by coming 'ere to frighten two lone females, and +her as innocent as a spring chicken?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Lucian, looking at her composedly, +"so you are the celebrated Rhoda? I've heard of +you."</p> + +<p>"Not much good, then, sir, if Miss Greeb was +talking," rejoined the red-haired girl, with a sniff. +"Oh, I know her."</p> + +<p>"Rhoda! Rhoda!" bleated her mistress, "do 'old +your tongue! I tell you this gentleman's a police."</p> + +<p>"He ain't!" said the undaunted Rhoda. "He's +in the law. Oh, I knows him!'</p> + +<p>"Ain't the law the police, you foolish gal?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it—" began Rhoda, when Lucian, +who thought that she had displayed quite sufficient +eccentricity, cut her short with a quick gesture.</p> + +<p>"See here, my girl," he said sharply, "you must +not behave in this fashion. I have reason to believe +that the assassin of Mr. Vrain entered the house +through the premises of your mistress."</p> + +<p>"Lawks, what a 'orrible idear!" shrieked Mrs. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>Bensusan. "Good 'eavens, Rhoda, did you see the +murdering villain?"</p> + +<p>"Me? No! I never sawr nothing, mum," replied +Rhoda doggedly.</p> + +<p>Lucian, watching the girl's face, and the uneasy +expression in her eyes, felt convinced she was not +telling the truth. It was no use forcing her to +speak, as he saw very plainly that Rhoda was one +of those obstinate people whom severity only hardened. +Much more could be done with her by kindness, +and Denzil adopted this—to him—more congenial +course.</p> + +<p>"If Rhoda is bound by any promise, Mrs. Bensusan, +I do not wish her to speak," he said indifferently, +"but in the interests of justice I am sure +you will not refuse to answer my questions."</p> + +<p>"Lord, sir! I know nothing!" whimpered the +terrified landlady.</p> + +<p>"Will you answer a few questions?" asked Denzil +persuasively.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bensusan glanced in a scared manner at +Rhoda, who, meanwhile, had been standing in a +sullen and hesitating attitude. When she thought +herself unobserved, she stole swift glances at the +visitor, trying evidently to read his character by +observation of his face and manner. It would seem +that her scrutiny was favourable, for before Mrs. +Bensusan could answer Lucian's question she asked +him one herself.</p> + +<p>"What do you want to know, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know all about Mr. Wrent."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I fancy he has something to do with +this crime."</p> + +<p>"Lord!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "'Ave I waited +on a murderer?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say he is a murderer, Mrs. Bensusan, +but he knows something likely to put us on the track +of the criminal."</p> + +<p>"What makes ye take up the case?" demanded +Rhoda sharply.</p> + +<p>"Because I know that Mr. Wrent came to board +in this house shortly after Mr. Vrain occupied No. +13," replied Denzil.</p> + +<p>"Who says he did?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Greeb, my landlady, and she also told +me that he left here two days after the murder."</p> + +<p>"That's as true as true!" cried Mrs. Bensusan, +"ain't it, Rhoda? We lost him 'cause he said he +couldn't abide living near a house where a crime +had been committed."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," continued Lucian, seeing that +Rhoda, without speaking, continued to watch him, +"the coincidence of Mr. Wrent's stay with that of +Mr. Vrain's strikes me as peculiar."</p> + +<p>"You are a sharp one, you are!" said Rhoda, +with an approving nod. "Look here, Mr. Denzil, +would you break a promise?"</p> + +<p>"That depends upon what the promise was."</p> + +<p>"It was one I made to hold my tongue."</p> + +<p>"About what?"</p> + +<p>"Several things," said the girl shortly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>"Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda; then +suddenly her face grew black. "I tell you what, +sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After +the lovely cloak he gave you!"</p> + +<p>The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at +her mistress; then, without a word, darted out of +the room. Before Lucian could conjecture the reason +of her strange conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could +get her breath again—a very difficult operation +for her—Rhoda was back with a blue cloth cloak, +lined with rabbit skins, hanging over her arm. This +she threw down at the feet of Lucian, and stamped +on it savagely with the carpet slippers.</p> + +<p>"There's his present!" she cried angrily, "but +I wish I could dance on him the same way! I wish—I +wish I could hang him!"</p> + +<p>"Can you?" demanded Lucian swiftly, taking +her in the moment of wrath, when she seemed disposed +to speak.</p> + +<p>"No!" said Rhoda shortly. "I can't!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think he killed Mr. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know who did?"</p> + +<p>"Blest if I do!"</p> + +<p>"Does Mr. Wrent?" asked Denzil meaningly.</p> + +<p>The girl wet her finger and went through a childish +game. "That's wet," she said; then wiping the +finger on her dingy skirt, "that's dry. Cut my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>throat if I tell a lie. Ask me something easier, Mr. +Denzil."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you," said Lucian, quite puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Rhoda! Rhoda! 'Ave you gone crazy?" wailed +Mrs. Bensusan.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said the girl, taking no notice of +her mistress, "do you want to know about Mr. +Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do."</p> + +<p>"And about that side passage as you talked of +to the missis?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll answer yer questions, sir. You'll know +all I know."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said Lucian, with an approving +smile, "now you are talking like a sensible girl."</p> + +<p>"Rhoda! You ain't going to talk bad of Mr. +Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't bad, and it ain't good," replied Rhoda. +"It's betwixt and between."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must 'ear all. I don't want the character +of the 'ouse took away," said Mrs. Bensusan, +with an attempt at firmness.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," rejoined Rhoda reassuringly, +"you can jine in yerself when y' like. Fire away, +Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>"Who is Mr. Wrent?" asked Lucian, going +straight to the point.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied Rhoda; and henceforth +the examination proceeded as though the girl were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>in the witness-box and Lucian counsel for the prosecution.</p> + +<p>Q. When did he come to Jersey Street?</p> + +<p>A. At the end of July, last year.</p> + +<p>Q. When did he go away?</p> + +<p>A. The morning after Boxing Day.</p> + +<p>Q. Can you describe his appearance?</p> + +<p>A. He was of the middle height, with a fresh +complexion, white hair, and a white beard growing +all over his face. He was untidy about his clothes, +and kept a good deal to his own room among a lot +of books. I don't think he was quite right in his +head.</p> + +<p>Q. Did he pay his rent regularly?</p> + +<p>A. Yes, except when he was away. He would +go away for a week at a time.</p> + +<p>Q. Was he in this house on Christmas Eve?</p> + +<p>A. Yes, sir. He came back two days before +Christmas.</p> + +<p>Q. Where had he been?</p> + +<p>A. I don't know; he did not say.</p> + +<p>Q. Did he have any visitors?</p> + +<p>A. He did. A tall, dark man and a lady.</p> + +<p>Q. What was the lady like?</p> + +<p>A. A little woman; I never saw her face, as she +always kept her veil down.</p> + +<p>Q. What kind of a veil did she wear?</p> + +<p>A. A black gauze veil with velvet spots.</p> + +<p>Q. Did she come often to see Mr. Wrent?</p> + +<p>A. Yes. Four or five times.</p> + +<p>Q. When did she call last?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>A. On Christmas Eve.</p> + +<p>Q. At what hour?</p> + +<p>A. She came at seven, and went away at eight. +I know that because she had supper with Mr. +Wrent.</p> + +<p>Q. Did she leave the house?</p> + +<p>A. Yes. I let her out myself.</p> + +<p>Q. Did you ever hear any conversation between +them?</p> + +<p>A. No. Mr. Wrent took care of that. I never +got any chance of listening at keyholes with him. +He was a sharp one, for all his craziness.</p> + +<p>Q. What was the male visitor like?</p> + +<p>A. He was tall and dark, with a black moustache.</p> + +<p>Q. Do you think he was a foreigner?</p> + +<p>A. I don't know. I never heard him speak. Mr. +Wrent let him out, as usual.</p> + +<p>Q. When did he visit Mr. Wrent last?</p> + +<p>A. On Christmas Eve. He came with the lady.</p> + +<p>Q. Did he stay to supper also?</p> + +<p>A. No. He went away at half-past seven. Mr. +Wrent let him out, as usual.</p> + +<p>Q. Did he go away altogether?</p> + +<p>A. I—I—I am not sure! (here the witness hesitated).</p> + +<p>Q. Why did Mr. Wrent give you the cloak?</p> + +<p>A. To make me hold my tongue about the dark +man.</p> + +<p>Q. Why?</p> + +<p>A. Because I saw him in the back yard.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<p>Q. On what night?</p> + +<p>A. On the night of Christmas Eve, about half-past +eight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>MRS. VRAIN AT BAY</h3> + + +<p>"You saw the dark man in the back yard on +Christmas Eve?" repeated Lucian, much surprised +by this discovery.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," replied Rhoda decisively, "at half-past +eight o'clock. I went out into the yard to +put some empty bottles into the shed, and I saw +the man standing near the fence, looking at the +back of No. 13. When he heard me coming out he +rushed past me and out by the side passage. The +moon was shining, and I saw him as plain as plain."</p> + +<p>"Did he seem afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did; and didn't want to be seen, neither. +I told Mr. Wrent, and he promised me a cloak if +I held my tongue. He said the dark man was waiting +in the yard until the lady had gone, when he +was coming in again."</p> + +<p>"But the lady, you say, went at eight, and you +saw the man half an hour later?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, sir. He told me a lie, for he never +came in again to see Mr. Wrent."</p> + +<p>"But already the dark man had seen the lady?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He came in with her at seven, and went +away at half-past."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p><p>Lucian mechanically stooped down and picked up +the fur cloak. He was puzzled by the information +given by Rhoda, and did not exactly see what use +to make of it. Going by the complexion of the +man who had lurked in the back yard, it would +appear that he was Count Ferruci; while the small +stature of the woman, and the fact that she wore +a velvet-spotted veil, indicated that she was Lydia +Vrain; also the pair had been in the vicinity of the +haunted house on the night of the murder; and, +although it was true both were out of the place +by half-past eight, yet they might not have gone +far, but had probably returned later—when Rhoda +and Mrs. Bensusan were asleep—to murder Vrain, +between the hours of eleven and twelve on the same +night.</p> + +<p>This was all plain enough, but Lucian was puzzled +by the account of Mr. Wrent. Who, he asked +himself repeatedly, who was this grey-haired, white-bearded +man who had so often received Lydia, who +had on Christmas Eve silenced Rhoda regarding +Ferruci's presence in the yard, by means of the +cloak, and who—it would seem—possessed the key +to the whole mystery?</p> + +<p>Rhoda could tell no more but that he had stayed +six months with Mrs. Bensusan, and had departed +two days after the murder; whereby it would seem +that his task having been completed, he had no +reason to remain longer in so dangerous a neighbourhood. +Yet four months had elapsed since his +departure, and Denzil, after some reflection, asked +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>Mrs. Bensusan a question or two regarding this interval.</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Wrent returned here since his departure?" +he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Lawks! no, sir!" wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, +shaking her head. "I've never set eyes on him +since he went. 'Ave you, Rhoda?" Whereat the +girl shook her head also, and watched Lucian with +an intensity of gaze which somewhat discomposed +him.</p> + +<p>"Did he owe you any money when he went, Mrs. +Bensusan?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He paid up like a gentleman. I always +thought well of Mr. Wrent."</p> + +<p>"Rhoda doesn't seem to share your sentiments," +said Denzil drily.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't!" cried the servant, frowning. "I +hated Mr. Wrent!"</p> + +<p>"Why did you hate him?"</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, sir," retorted Rhoda grimly. +"I hated him."</p> + +<p>"Yet he bought you this cloak."</p> + +<p>"No, he didn't!" contradicted the girl. "He got +it from the lady!"</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Lucian sharply. "Are you sure +of that?"</p> + +<p>"I can't exactly swear to it," replied Rhoda, hesitating, +"but it was this way: The lady wore a +cloak like that, and I admired it awful. She had +it on when she came, Christmas Eve, and she didn't +wear it when I let her out, and the next day Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>Wrent gave it to me. So I suppose it is the same +cloak."</p> + +<p>"And did the lady go out into the cold winter +weather without the cloak?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but she had a long cloth jacket on, sir, so +I don't s'pose she missed it."</p> + +<p>"Was the lady agitated when she went out?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. She held her tongue and kept +her veil down."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me anything more?" asked Lucian, +anxious to make the examination as exhaustive as +possible.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Denzil," answered Rhoda, after some +thought, "I can't, except that Mr. Wrent, long before +Christmas, promised me a present, and gave +me the cloak then."</p> + +<p>"Will you let me take this cloak away with me?"</p> + +<p>"If you like," replied Rhoda carelessly. "I +don't want it.'</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rhoda!" wailed Mrs. Bensusan. "Your +lovely, lovely rabbit skin!"</p> + +<p>"I'll bring it back again," said Lucian hastily. +"I only want to use it as evidence."</p> + +<p>"Ye want to know who the lady is?" said Rhoda +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. Can you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"No; but you'll find out from that cloak. I guess +why you're taking it."</p> + +<p>"You are very sharp, Rhoda," said Lucian, rising, +with a good-humoured smile, "and well deserve +your local reputation. If I find Mr. Wrent, I may +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>require you to identify him; and Mrs. Bensusan +also."</p> + +<p>"I'll be able to do that, but missus hasn't her +eyes much."</p> + +<p>"Hasn't her eyes?" repeated Denzil, with a +glance at Mrs. Bensusan's staring orbs.</p> + +<p>"Lawks, sir, I'm shortsighted, though I never +lets on. Rhoda, 'ow can you 'ave let on to the gentleman +as I'm deficient? As to knowing Mr. Wrent, +I'd do so well enough," said Mrs. Bensusan, tossing +her head, "with his long white beard and white +'ead, let alone his black velvet skull-cap."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he wore a skull-cap?"</p> + +<p>"Only indoors," said Rhoda sharply, "but here +I'm 'olding the door wide, sir, so if you've done, +we're done."</p> + +<p>"I'm done, as you call it, for the present," replied +Denzil, putting on his hat, "but I may come +again. In the meantime, hold your tongues. Silence +on this occasion will be gold; speech won't +even be silver."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bensusan laughed at this speech in a fat +and comfortable sort of way, while Rhoda grinned, +and escorted Lucian to the front door. She looked +so uncanny, with her red hair and black eyes, that +the barrister could not forbear a question.</p> + +<p>"Are you English, my girl?"</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't!" retorted Rhoda emphatically. +"I'm of the gentle Romany."</p> + +<p>"A gipsy!"</p> + +<p>"So you Gorgios call us!" replied the girl, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>shut the door with what seemed to be unnecessary +violence. Lucian went off with the cloak over his +arm, somewhat discomposed by this last piece of +information.</p> + +<p>"A gipsy!" he repeated. "Humph! Can good +come out of Nazareth? I don't trust that girl +much. If I knew why she hates Wrent, I'd be much +more satisfied with her information. And who the +deuce is Wrent?"</p> + +<p>Lucian had occasion to ask himself this question +many times before he found its answer, and that +was not until afterwards. At the present moment +he dismissed it from his mind as unprofitable. He +was too busy reflecting on the evidence obtained in +Jersey Street to waste time in conjecturing further +events. On returning to his lodgings he sat down +to consider what was best to be done.</p> + +<p>After much reflection and internal argument, he +decided to call upon Mrs. Vrain, and by producing +the cloak, force her into confessing her share of +the crime. Whether she had been the principal +in the deed, or an accessory before the fact, Lucian +could not determine; but he was confident that in +one way or another she was cognizant of the truth; +although this she would probably conceal, as its +revelation would likely be detrimental to her own +safety.</p> + +<p>At first Denzil intended to see Diana before visiting +Mrs. Vrain, in order to relate all he had +learned, and find out from her if the cloak really +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>belonged to the widow. But on second thoughts +he decided not to do so.</p> + +<p>"I can tell her nothing absolutely certain about +the matter," he said to himself, "as I cannot be +sure of anything until I force Mrs. Vrain to confess. +Diana," so he called her in his discourse to +himself, "Diana will probably know nothing about +the ownership of the cloak, as it seems new, and +was probably purchased by Lydia during the absence +of Diana in Australia. No, I have the address +of Mrs. Vrain, which Diana gave me. It will +be best to call on her, and by displaying the cloak +make her acknowledge her guilt.</p> + +<p>"With such evidence she cannot deny that she +visited Wrent; and was in the vicinity of the house +wherein her husband was murdered on the very +night the crime was committed. Also she must +state Ferruci's reason for hiding in the back yard, +and tell me plainly who Wrent is, and why he +helped the pair of them in their devilish plans. I +am doubtful if she will speak; but altogether the +evidence I have collected inculpates her so strongly +that it will be quite sufficient grounds upon which +to obtain a warrant for her arrest. And sooner +than risk that, I expect she will tell as much as +she can to exculpate herself—that is, if she is really +innocent. If she is guilty," Lucian shrugged his +shoulders, "then I cannot guess what course she +will take."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vrain, with her father to protect her, had +established herself in a small but luxurious house +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>in Mayfair, and was preparing to enjoy herself during +the coming season. Although her husband had +met with a terrible death scarcely six months before, +she had already cast off her heavy mourning, +and wore only such millinery indications of sorrow +as suited with her widowed existence.</p> + +<p>Ferruci was a constant visitor at the house; but +although Lydia was now free, and wealthy, she by +no means seemed ready to marry the Italian. Perhaps +she thought, with her looks and riches, she +might gain an English title, as more valuable than +a Continental one; and in this view she was supported +by her father. Clyne had no other desire +than to see his beloved Lydia happy, and would +willingly have sacrificed everything in his power to +gain such an end; but as he did not like Ferruci +himself, and saw that Lydia's affections towards +him had cooled greatly, he did not encourage the +idea of a match between them.</p> + +<p>However, these matters were yet in abeyance, +as Lydia was too diplomatic to break off with so +subtle a man as the Count, who might prove a +dangerous enemy were his love turned to hate, and +Mr. Clyne was quite willing to remain on friendly +terms with the man so long as Lydia chose that +such friendship should exist. In short, Lydia ruled +her simple father with a rod of iron, and coaxed +Ferruci—a more difficult man to deal with—into +good humour; so she managed both of them skilfully +in every way, and contrived to keep things +smooth, pending her plunge into London society. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>For all her childish looks, Lydia was uncommonly +clever.</p> + +<p>When Lucian's card was brought in, Mrs. Vrain +proved to be at home, and as his good looks had +made a deep impression on her, she received him at +once. He was shown into a luxuriously furnished +drawing-room without delay, and welcomed by +pretty Mrs. Vrain herself, who came forward with +a bright smile and outstretched hands, looking more +charming than ever.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do call this real sweet of you," said +she gaily. "I guess it is about time you showed +up. But you don't look well, that's a fact. What's +wrong?"</p> + +<p>"I'm worried a little," replied Lucian, confounded +by her coolness.</p> + +<p>"That's no use, Mr. Denzil. You should never +be worried. I guess I don't let anything put me +out."</p> + +<p>"Not even your husband's death?"</p> + +<p>"That's rude!" said Lydia sharply, the colour +leaving her cheek. "What do you mean? Have +you come to be nasty?"</p> + +<p>"I came to return you this," said Denzil, throwing +the cloak which he had carried on his arm before +the widow.</p> + +<p>"This?" echoed Mrs. Vrain, looking at it. +"Well, what's this old thing got to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"It's yours; you left it in Jersey Street!"</p> + +<p>"Did I? And where's Jersey Street?"</p> + +<p>"You know well enough," said Lucian sternly. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>"It is near the place where your husband was murdered."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vrain turned white. "Do you dare to +say——" she began, when Denzil cut her short +with a hint at her former discomposure.</p> + +<p>"The stiletto, Mrs. Vrain! Don't forget the +stiletto!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" cried Lydia, trembling violently. +"What do you know of the stiletto?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>A DENIAL</h3> + + +<p>"What do you know of the stiletto?" repeated +Mrs. Vrain anxiously.</p> + +<p>She had risen to her feet, and, with an effort to +be calm, was holding on to the near chair. Her +bright colour had faded to a dull white hue, and +her eyes had a look of horror in their depths which +transformed her from her childish beauty into a +much older and more haggard woman than she +really was. It seemed as though Lucian, by some +necromantic spell, had robbed her of youth, vitality, +and careless happiness. To him this extraordinary +agitation was a proof of her guilt; and hardening +his heart so as not to spare her one iota of her +penalty—a mercy she did not deserve—he addressed +her sternly:</p> + +<p>"I know that a stiletto purchased in Florence by +your late husband hung on the library wall of Berwin +Manor. I know that it is gone!"</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" said Lydia, moistening her white, +dry lips, "it is gone; but I do not know who took +it."</p> + +<p>"The person who killed your husband."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>"I feared as much," she muttered, sitting down +again. "Do you know the name of the person?"</p> + +<p>"As well as you do yourself. The name is Lydia +Vrain!"</p> + +<p>"I!" She threw herself back on the chair with +a look of profound astonishment on her colourless +face. "Mr. Denzil," she stammered, "is—is this—is +this a jest?"</p> + +<p>"You will not find it so, Mrs. Vrain."</p> + +<p>The little woman clutched the arms of her chair +and leaned forward with her face no longer pale, +but red with rage and indignation. "If you are a +gentleman, Mr. Denzil, I guess you won't keep me +hanging on like this. Let us get level. Do you +say I killed Mark?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do!" said Lucian defiantly. "I am sure +of it."</p> + +<p>"On what grounds?" asked Mrs. Vrain, holding +her temper back with a visible effort, that made her +eyes glitter and her breath short.</p> + +<p>"On the grounds that he was killed with that +stiletto and——"</p> + +<p>"Go slow! How do you know he was killed +with that stiletto?"</p> + +<p>"Because the ribbon which attached it to the wall +was found in the Geneva Square house, where your +husband was killed. Miss Vrain recognised it."</p> + +<p>"Miss Vrain—Diana! Is she in England?"</p> + +<p>"Not only in England, but in London."</p> + +<p>"Then why hasn't she been to see me?"</p> + +<p>Denzil did not like to answer this question, the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>more so as Lydia's sudden divergence from the +point of discourse rather disconcerted him. It is +impossible to maintain dignity in making a serious +accusation when the person against whom it is made +thinks so little of it as to turn aside to discuss a +point of etiquette in connection with another +woman.</p> + +<p>Seeing that her accuser was silent and confused, +Lydia recovered her tongue and colour, and the +equability of her temper. It was, therefore, with +some raillery that she continued her speech:</p> + +<p>"I see how it is," she said contemptuously, "Diana +has called you into her councils in order to fix +this absurd charge on to me. Afraid to come herself, +she sends you as the braver person of the partnership. +I congratulate you on your errand, Mr. +Denzil."</p> + +<p>"You can laugh as much as you like, Mrs. Vrain, +but the matter is more serious than you suppose."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am sure that my loving stepdaughter will +make it as serious as possible. She always hated +me."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Mrs. Vrain," said Lucian, colouring +with annoyance, "but I did not come here to +hear you speak ill of Miss Vrain."</p> + +<p>"I know that! She sent you here to speak ill <i>of</i> +me and do ill <i>to</i> me. Well, so you and she accuse +me of killing Mark? I shall be glad to hear the +evidence you can bring forward. If you can make +your charge good I should smile. Oh, I guess +so!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> +<p>Denzil noticed that when Mrs. Vrain became excited +she usually spoke plain English, without the +U. S. A. accent, but on growing calmer, and, as it +were, recollecting herself, she adopted the Yankee +twang and their curious style of expression and ejaculation. +This led him to suspect that the fair Lydia +was not a born daughter of the Great Republic, +perhaps not even a naturalised citizeness, but had +assumed such nationality as one attractive to society +in Europe and Great Britain.</p> + +<p>He wondered what her past really was, and if +she and her father were the doubtful adventurers +Diana believed them to be. If so, it might happen +that Lydia would extricate herself out of her present +unpleasant position by the use of past experience. +To give her no chance of such dodging, Lucian +rapidly detailed the evidence against her so +that she would be hard put to baffle it. But in +this estimate he quite underrated Lydia's nerve and +capability of fence, let alone the dexterity with +which she produced a satisfactory reply to each of +his questions.</p> + +<p>"We will begin at the beginning, Mrs. Vrain," +he said soberly, "say from the time you drove your +unfortunate husband out of his own house."</p> + +<p>"Now, I guess that wasn't my fault," explained +Lydia. "I wasn't in love with old man Mark, but +I liked him well enough, for he was a real gentleman; +and when that make-mischief Diana, who +cocked her nose at me, set out for Australia, we +got on surprisingly well. Count Ferruci came over +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>to stay, as much at Mark's invitation as mine, and +I didn't pay too much attention to him anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Miss Tyler says you did!"</p> + +<p>"Sakes!" cried Mrs. Vrain, raising her eyebrows, +"have you been talking to that old stump? Well, +just you look here, Mr. Denzil! It was Bella +Tyler who made all the mischief. She thought +Ercole was sweet on her, and when she found out +he wasn't, she got real mad, and went to tell Mark +that I was making things hum the wrong way with +the Count. Of course Mark had a row with him, +and, of course, I got riz—not having done anything +to lie low for. We had a row royal, I guess, and +the end of it was that Mark cleared out. I thought +he would turn up again, or apply for a divorce, +though he hadn't any reason to. But he did neither, +and remained away for a whole year. While he +was away I got quit of Ercole pretty smart, I can +tell you, as I wanted to shut up that old maid's +mouth. I never knew where Mark was, or guessed +what became of him, until I saw that advertisement, +and putting two and two together to make +four, I called to see Mr. Link, where I found you +running the circus."</p> + +<p>"Why did you faint on the mention of the stiletto?"</p> + +<p>"I told you the reason, and Link also."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but your reason was too weak to——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you're right enough there," interrupted +Lydia, smiling. "All that talk of nerves and +grief wasn't true. I didn't give my real reason, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>but I will now. When I heard that the old man +had been stabbed by a stiletto I remembered that +the one on the library wall had vanished some time +before the Christmas Eve on which Mark was +killed. So you may guess I was afraid."</p> + +<p>"For yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I guess not; it wasn't any of my funeral. I +didn't take the stiletto, nor did I know who had; +but I was afraid you might think Ferruci took it. +The stiletto was Italian, and the Count is Italian, +so it struck me you might put two and two together +and suspect Ercole. I never thought you'd fix on +me," concluded Lydia, with a scornful toss of her +head.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact, I fixed on you both," said +Lucian composedly.</p> + +<p>"And for what reason? Why should I and the +Count murder poor Mark, if you please? He was +a fool and a bore, but I wished him no harm. I +was sorry as any one when I heard of his death, +and I offered a good reward for the catching of +the mean skunk that killed him. If I had done so +myself I wouldn't have been such a fool as to +sharpen the scent of the hounds on my own trail."</p> + +<p>"You were in town on Christmas Eve?" said +Denzil, not choosing to explain the motives he believed +the pair had for committing the crime.</p> + +<p>"I was. What of that?"</p> + +<p>"You were in Jersey Street, Pimlico, on that +night."</p> + +<p>"I was never in Pimlico in my life!" declared +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>Lydia wrathfully, "and, as I said before, I don't +know where Jersey Street is."</p> + +<p>"Do you know a man called Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard of him!"</p> + +<p>"Yet you visited him in Jersey Street on Christmas +Eve, between seven and eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Did I, really?" cried Mrs. Vrain, ironically, +"and how can you prove I did?"</p> + +<p>"By that cloak," said Lucian, pointing to where +it lay on a chair. "You wore that cloak and a velvet-spotted +veil."</p> + +<p>"I haven't worn a veil of that kind for over a +year," said Lydia decisively, "though I admit I used +to wear veils of that sort. You can ask my maid +if I have any velvet-spotted veils in my wardrobe +just now. As to the cloak—I never wear rabbit +skins."</p> + +<p>"You might as a disguise."</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive, man, what should I want with a +disguise? I tell you the cloak isn't mine. You +can soon prove that. Find out who made it, and go +and ask in the shop if I bought it."</p> + +<p>"How can I find out who made it?" asked Denzil, +who was beginning to feel that Lydia was one +too many for him.</p> + +<p>"Here! I'll show you!" said Lydia, and picking +up the cloak she turned over the tab at the neck, +by which it was hung up. At the back of this there +was a small piece of tape with printed black letters. +"Baxter & Co., General Drapers, Bayswater," she +read out, throwing down the cloak contemptuously. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>"I don't go to a London suburb for my frocks; I +get them in Paris."</p> + +<p>"Then you are sure this cloak isn't yours?" asked +Lucian, much perplexed.</p> + +<p>"No! I tell you it isn't! Go and ask Baxter +& Co. if I bought it. I'll go with you, if you like; +or better still," cried Mrs. Vrain, jumping up briskly, +"I can take you to see some friends with whom +I stayed on Christmas Eve. The whole lot will +tell you that I was with them at Camden Hill all +the night."</p> + +<p>"What! Can you prove an alibi?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you call it," retorted Lydia +coolly, "but I can prove pretty slick that I wasn't +in Pimlico."</p> + +<p>"But—Mrs. Vrain—your friend—Ferruci was +there!"</p> + +<p>"Was he? Well, I don't know. I never saw +him that time he was in town. But if you think +he killed Mark you are wrong. I do not believe +Ercole would kill a fly, for all he's an Italian."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he took that stiletto?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't!"</p> + +<p>"Then who did?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I don't even know when it was +taken. I missed it after Christmas, because that old +schoolma'am told me it was gone."</p> + +<p>"Old schoolma'am!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Bella Tyler, if you like that better," retorted +Mrs. Vrain. "Come, now, Mr. Denzil, I'm +not going to let you go away without proving my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>—what +do you call it?—alibi. Come with me right +along to Camden Hill."</p> + +<p>"I'll come just to satisfy myself," said Lucian, +picking up the cloak, "but I am beginning to feel +that it is unnecessary."</p> + +<p>"You think I am innocent? Well," drawled +Lydia, as Lucian nodded, "I think that's real sweet +of you. I mayn't be a saint, but I'm not quite the +sinner that Diana of yours makes me out."</p> + +<p>"Diana of mine, Mrs. Vrain?" said Lucian, colouring.</p> + +<p>The little woman laughed at his blush.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not a fool, young man. I see how +the wind blows!" And with a nod she vanished.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK?</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Vrain sacrificed the vanity of a lengthy +toilette to a natural anxiety to set herself right with +Lucian, and appeared shortly in a ravishing costume +fresh from Paris. Perhaps by arraying herself so +smartly she wished to assure Denzil more particularly +that she was a lady of too much taste to buy +rabbit-skin cloaks in Bayswater: or perhaps—which +was more probable—she was not averse to ensnaring +so handsome a young man into an innocent flirtation.</p> + +<p>The suspicion she entertained of Lucian's love +for Diana only made Lydia the more eager to fascinate +him on her own account. A conceit of herself, +a hatred of her stepdaughter, and a desire to +wring admiration out of a man who did not wish +to bestow it. These were the reasons which led +Mrs. Vrain to be particularly agreeable to the barrister. +When the pair were ensconced in a swift +hansom, and rolling rapidly towards Camden Hill, +she began at once to prosecute her amiable designs.</p> + +<p>"I guess you'll not mind being my best boy for +the day," she said, with a coquettish glance. "You +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>can escort me, first of all, to the Pegalls, and afterwards +we can drive to Baxter & Co.'s in Bayswater, +so that you can assure yourself I didn't buy +that cloak."</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged for the trouble you are taking, +Mrs. Vrain," replied the young man, avoiding +with some reserve the insinuating glances of his +pretty companion. "We shall do as you suggest. +Who are the Pegalls, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"My friends, with whom I stopped on Christmas +Eve," rejoined Mrs. Vrain. "A real good, old, +dull English family, as heavy as their own plum +puddings. Mrs. Pegall's a widow like myself, and +I daresay she buys her frocks in the Bayswater +stores. She has two daughters who look like barmaids, +and ought to be, only they ain't smart +enough. We had a real Sunday at home on Christmas +Eve, Mr. Denzil. Whist and weak tea at +eight, negus and prayers and bed at ten. Poppa +wanted to teach them poker, and they kicked like +mad at the very idea; but that was when he visited +them before, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Not the kind of family likely to suit you, I +should think," said Lucian, regarding the little free-lance +with a puzzled air.</p> + +<p>"I guess not. Lead's a feather to them for +weight. But it's a good thing to have respectable +friends, especially in this slow coach of an old country, +where you size everybody up by the company +they keep."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Lucian pointedly and—it must be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>confessed—rather rudely, "so you have found the +necessity of having respectable friends, however +dull?"</p> + +<p>"That's a fact," acknowledged Mrs. Vrain candidly. +"I've had a queer sort of life with poppa—ups +and downs, and flyings over the moon, I guess."</p> + +<p>"You are not American?" said Denzil suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Sakes! How do you figure that out?"</p> + +<p>"Because you are too pronouncedly Amurrican +to be American."</p> + +<p>"That's an epigram with some truth in it," replied +Lydia coolly. "Oh, I'm as much a U. S. A. +article as anything else. We hung out our shingle +in Wyoming, Wis., for a considerable time, and +a girl who tickets herself Yankee this side flies high. +But I guess I'm not going to give you my history," +concluded Mrs. Vrain drily. "I'm not a Popey nor +you a confessor."</p> + +<p>"H'm! You've been in the South Seas, I see."</p> + +<p>"There's no telling. How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"The natives there use the word Popey to designate +a Roman Catholic."</p> + +<p>"You are as smart as they make 'em, Mr. Denzil. +There's no flies about you; but I'm not going to give +myself away. Ask poppa, if you want information. +He's that simple he'll tell you all."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Vrain, keep your own secret; it is +not the one I wish to discover. By the way, you +say your father was at Camden Hill on Christmas +Eve?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say so, but he was," answered Lydia +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>quietly. "He was not very well—pop can't stand +these English winters—and wrote me to come up. +But he was so sick that he left the Pegalls' about +six o'clock."</p> + +<p>"That was the letter which upset you."</p> + +<p>"It was. I see old Bella Tyler kept her eyes +peeled. I got the letter and came up at once. I've +only got one parent left, and he's too good to be +shoved away in a box underground while fools live. +But here we are at the Pegalls'. I hope you'll +like the kind of circus they run. Campmeetings +are nothing to it."</p> + +<p>The dwelling of the respectable family alluded +to was a tolerably sized house of red brick, placed +in a painfully neat garden, and shut in from the +high road by a tall and jealous fence of green-painted +wood. The stout widow and two stout +spinster daughters, who made up the inmates, quite +deserved Mrs. Vrain's epithet of "heavy." They +were aggressively healthy, with red cheeks, black +hair, and staring black eyes devoid of expression; +a trio of Dutch dolls would have looked more intellectual. +They were plainly and comfortably dressed; +the drawing-room was plainly and comfortably furnished; +and both house and inmates looked thoroughly +respectable and eminently dull. What such +a hawk as Mrs. Vrain was doing in this Philistine +dove-cote, Lucian could not conjecture; but he +admired her tact in making friends with a family +whose heavy gentility assisted to ballast her somewhat +light reputation; while the three of their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>brains in unison could not comprehend her tricks, +or the reasons for which they were played.</p> + +<p>"At all events, these three women are too honest +to speak anything but the truth," thought Lucian +while undergoing the ordeal of being presented. +"So I'll learn for certain if Mrs. Vrain was really +here on Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p>The Misses Pegall and their lace-capped mamma +welcomed Lucian with heavy good nature and much +simpering, for they also had an eye to a comely +young man; but the cunning Lydia they kissed and +embraced, and called "dear" with much zeal. Mrs. +Vrain, on her part, darted from one to the other +like a bird, pecking the red apples of their cheeks, +and cast an arch glance at Lucian to see if he admired +her talent for manœuvering. Then cake and +wine, port and sherry, were produced in the style +of early Victorian hospitality, from which epoch +Mrs. Pegall dated, and all went merry as a marriage +bell, while Lydia laid her plans to have herself +exculpated in Lucian's eyes without being inculpated +in those of the family.</p> + +<p>"We have just come up from our place in Somerset," +explained Mrs. Pegall, in a comfortable +voice. "The girls wanted to see the sights, so I +just said, 'we'll go, dears, and perhaps we'll get +a glimpse of the dear Queen.' I'm sure she has no +more loyal subjects than we three."</p> + +<p>"Are you going out much this year, dear Mrs. +Vrain?" asked Beatrice Pegall, the elder and plainer +of the sisters.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>"No, dear," replied Lydia, with a sigh, putting +a dainty handkerchief to her eyes. "You know +what I have lost."</p> + +<p>The two groaned, and Miss Cecilia Pegall, who +was by way of being very religious in a Low Church +way, remarked that "all flesh was grass," to which +observation her excellent mamma rejoined: "Very +true, dear, very true." And then the trio sighed +again, and shook their black heads like so many +mandarins.</p> + +<p>"I should never support my grief," continued +Lydia, still tearful, "if it was not that I have at +least three dear friends. Ah! I shall never forget +that happy Christmas Eve!"</p> + +<p>"Last Christmas Eve, dear Mrs. Vrain?" said +Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"When you were all so kind and good," sobbed +Lydia, with a glance at Lucian, to see that he noticed +the confirmation. "We played whist, didn't +we?"</p> + +<p>"Four rubbers," groaned Mrs. Pegall, "and retired +to bed at ten o'clock, after prayers and a short +hymn. Quite a carol that hymn was, eh, dears?"</p> + +<p>"And your poor pa was so bad with his cough," +said Beatrice, "I hope it is better. He went away +before dinner, too! Do say your pa is better!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, much better," said Lydia, and considering +it was four months since Christmas Eve, +Lucian thought it was time Mr. Clyne recovered.</p> + +<p>"He enjoyed his tea, though," said Cecilia. "Mr. +Clyne always says there is no tea like ours."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>"And no evenings," cried Lydia, who was very +glad there were not. "Poppa and I are coming +soon to have a long evening—to play whist again."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Mrs. Vrain, you are not going?"</p> + +<p>"I must, dears," with a kiss all round. "I have +such a lot to do, and Mr. Denzil is coming with me, +as poppa wants to consult him about some law business. +He's a barrister, you know."</p> + +<p>"I hope Mr. Denzil will come and see us again," +said Mrs. Pegall, shaking hands with Lucian. A +fat, puffy hand she had, and damp.</p> + +<p>"Oh, delighted! delighted!" said Denzil hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"Cards and tea, and sensible conversation," said +Beatrice seriously, "no more."</p> + +<p>"You forget prayers at ten, dear," rejoined Cecilia +in low tones.</p> + +<p>"We are a plain family, Mr. Denzil. You must +take us as we are."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mrs. Pegall, I will."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, dears," cried Lydia again, and with +a final peck all round she skipped out and into the +hansom, followed by her escort.</p> + +<p>"Damn!" said Mrs. Vrain, when the cab drove +away in the direction of Bayswater. "Oh, don't +look so shocked, Mr. Denzil. I assure you I am +not in the habit of swearing, but the extreme respectability +of the Pegalls always makes me wish to +relieve my feelings by going to the other extreme. +What do you think of them?"</p> + +<p>"They seem very good people, and genuine."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>"And very genteel and dull," retorted Lydia. +"Like Washington, they can't tell a lie for a red +cent; so you can believe I was there with poppa on +Christmas Eve, only he went away, and I stayed all +night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe it, Mrs. Vrain."</p> + +<p>"Then I couldn't have been in Jersey Street or +Geneva Square, sticking Mark with the stiletto?"</p> + +<p>"No! I believe you to be innocent," said Lucian +gravely. "In fact, I really don't think it is necessary +to find out about this cloak at Baxter & Co.'s. +I am assured you did not buy it."</p> + +<p>"I guess I didn't, Mr. Denzil; but you want to +know who did, and so do I. Well, you need not +open your eyes. I'd like to know who killed Mark, +also; and you say that cloak will show it?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say that; but the cloak may identify +the woman I wrongfully took for you. She may +have to do with the matter."</p> + +<p>Lydia shook her pretty head. "Not she. Mark +was as respectable as the Pegall gang; there's no +woman mixed up in this matter."</p> + +<p>"But I saw the shadow of a woman on the blind +of No. 13!"</p> + +<p>"You don't say! In Mark's sitting-room? Well, +I should smile to know he was human, after all. He +was always so precious stiff!"</p> + +<p>Something in Mrs. Vrain's light talk of her dead +husband jarred on the feelings of Lucian, and in +some displeasure he held his peace. In no wise +abashed, Lydia feigned to take no notice of this +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>tacit reproof, but chatted on about all and everything +in the most frivolous manner. Not until they +had entered the shop of Baxter & Co. did she resume +attention to business.</p> + +<p>"Here," she said to the smiling shopwalker, "I +want to know by whom this cloak was sold, and to +what person."</p> + +<p>The man examined the cloak, and noted a private +mark on it, which evidently afforded him some information +not obtainable by the general public, for +he guided Lucian and his companion to a counter +behind which stood a brisk woman with sharp eyes. +In her turn she also examined the cloak, and departed +to refresh her memory by looking at some account +book. When she returned it was to intimate +that the cloak had been bought by a man.</p> + +<p>"A man!" repeated Lucian, much astonished. +"What was he like?"</p> + +<p>"A dark man," replied the brisk shopwoman, +"dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark moustache. I +remember him well, because he was a foreigner."</p> + +<p>"A foreigner?" repeated Lydia in her turn. "A +Frenchman?"</p> + +<p>"No, madam—an Italian. He told me as much."</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Vrain. "You are +right, Mr. Denzil. It's Ferruci sure enough!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI</h3> + + +<p>"It is quite impossible!" cried Mrs. Vrain distractedly. +"I can't believe it nohow!"</p> + +<p>The little woman was back again in her own +drawing-room, talking to Lucian about the discovery +which had lately been made regarding Ferruci's +purchase of the cloak. Mrs. Vrain having proved +her own innocence by the evidence of the Pegall +family, was now trying to persuade both herself +and Denzil that the Count could not be possibly +implicated in the matter. He had no motive to +kill Vrain, she said, a statement with which Lucian +at once disagreed.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vrain, he had two motives," +said the barrister quickly. "In the first +place, he was in love, and wished to marry you; in +the second, he was poor, and wanted money. By +the death of your husband he hoped to gain both."</p> + +<p>"He has gained neither, as yet," replied Lydia +sharply. "I like Ercole well enough, and at one +time I was almost engaged to him. But he has a +nasty temper of his own, Mr. Denzil, so I shunted +him pretty smart to marry Mark Vrain. I wouldn't +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>marry him now if he dumped down a million dollars +at my feet to-morrow. Besides, poppa don't +like him at all. I've got my money, and I've got +my freedom, and I don't fool away either the one +or the other on that Italian dude!"</p> + +<p>"Is the Count acquainted with these sentiments?" +asked Lucian drily.</p> + +<p>"I guess so, Mr. Denzil. He asked me to marry +him two months after Mark's death, and I just up +and told him pretty plain how the cat jumped."</p> + +<p>"In plain English, you refused him?"</p> + +<p>"You bet I did!" cried Lydia vigorously. "So +you see, Mr. Denzil, he could not have killed +Mark."</p> + +<p>"Why not? He did not know your true mind +until two months after the murder."</p> + +<p>"That's a fact, anyhow," commented Mrs. +Vrain. "But what the mischief made him buy that +rabbit-skin cloak?"</p> + +<p>"I expect he bought it for the woman I mistook +for you."</p> + +<p>"And who may she be?"</p> + +<p>"That is just what I wish to find out. This +woman who came to Jersey Street so often wore this +cloak; therefore, she must have obtained it from +the Count. I'll make him tell me who she is, and +what she has to do with this crime."</p> + +<p>"Do you think she has anything to do with it?" +said Mrs. Vrain doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I am certain. It must have been her shadow I +saw on the blind."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>"And the man's shadow was the Count's?" questioned +Lydia.</p> + +<p>"I think so. He bought the cloak for the woman, +visited the man Wrent at Jersey Street, and was +seen by the servant in the back yard. He did not +act thus without some object, Mrs. Vrain, you may +be sure of that."</p> + +<p>"Sakes!" said Lydia, with a weary sigh. "I ain't +sure of anything save that my head is buzzing like +a sawmill. Who is Wrent, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. An old man with white beard +and a skull-cap of black velvet."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" said Mrs. Vrain, with a shiver. "Mark +used to wear a black skull-cap, and the thought of +it makes me freeze up. Sounds like a judge of +your courts ordering a man to be lynched. Well, +Mr. Denzil, it seems to me as you'd best hustle +Ercole. If he knows who the woman is—and he +wouldn't buy cloaks for her if he didn't—he'll know +who this Wrent is. I guess he can supply all information."</p> + +<p>"Where does he live?"</p> + +<p>"Number 40, Marquis Street, St. James's. You +go and look him up, while I tell poppa what a mean +white he is. I guess poppa won't let him come near +me again. Pop's an honest man, though he ain't no +Washington."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I find out that he killed your husband?" +asked Lucian, rising.</p> + +<p>"Then you'd best lynch him right away," re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>plied +Lydia without hesitation. "I draw the line +at murder—some!"</p> + +<p>The barrister was somewhat disgusted to hear +Mrs. Vrain so coolly devote her whilom admirer to +a shameful death. However, he knew that her +heart was hard and her nature selfish; so there was +little use in showing any outward displeasure at her +want of charity. She had cleared herself from suspicion, +and evidently cared not who suffered, so long +as she was safe and well spoken of. Moreover, +Lucian had learned all he wished about her movements +on the night of the crime, and taking a hasty +leave, he went off to Marquis Street for the purpose +of bringing Ferruci to book for his share in the terrible +business. However, the Count proved to be +from home, and would not be back, so the servant +said, until late that night.</p> + +<p>Denzil therefore left a message that he would +call at noon the next day, and drove from St. +James's to Kensington, where he visited Diana. +Here he detailed what he had learned and done +from the time he had visited Mrs. Bensusan up to +the interview with Lydia. Also he displayed the +cloak, and narrated how Mrs. Vrain had cleared +herself of its purchase.</p> + +<p>To all this Diana listened with the greatest interest, +and when Lucian ended she looked at him +for some moments in silence. In fact, Diana, with +all her wit and common sense, did not know how +to regard the present position of affairs.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"Well, Miss Vrain," said Lucian, seeing that she +did not speak, "what do you think of it all?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vrain appears to be innocent," said Diana +in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Assuredly she is! The evidence of the Pegall +family—given in all innocence—proves that she +could not have been in Geneva Square or in Jersey +Street on Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p>"Then we come back to my original belief, Mr. +Denzil. Lydia did not commit the crime herself, +but employed Ferruci to do so."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Denzil decidedly. "Whether the +Italian is guilty or not, Mrs. Vrain knows nothing +about it. If she were cognisant of his guilt she +would not have risked going with me to Baxter & +Co., and letting me discover that Ferruci had +bought the cloak. Nor would she so lightly surrender +a possible accomplice as she has done Ferruci. +Whatever can be said of Mrs. Vrain's conduct—and +I admit that it is far from perfect—yet +I must say that she appears, by the strongest +evidence, to be totally innocent and ignorant. She +knows no more about the matter than her father +does."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Diana, unwilling to grant her stepmother +too much grace, "we must give her the benefit +of the doubt. What about Ferruci?"</p> + +<p>"So far as I can see, Ferruci is guilty," replied +Lucian. "To clear himself he will have to give +the same proof as Mrs. Vrain. Firstly, he will +have to show that he was not in Jersey Street on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>Christmas Eve; secondly, he will have to prove that +he did not buy the cloak. But in the face of the +servant's evidence, and the statement of the shopwoman, +he will find it difficult to clear himself. +Yet," added Lucian, remembering his failure with +Lydia, "it is always possible that he may do so."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me, Mr. Denzil, that your only +chance of getting at the truth is to see the Italian."</p> + +<p>"I think so myself. I will see him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Will you take Mr. Link with you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Vrain. As I have found out so much +without Link, I may as well proceed in the matter +until his professional services are required to arrest +Count Ferruci. By the way, I have never seen +that gentleman. Can you describe his appearance +to me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as far as looks go there is no fault to be +found with him," answered Diana. "He is a typical +Italian, tall, slender, and olive complexioned. +He speaks English very well, indeed, and appears +to be possessed of considerable education. Certainly, +to look at him, and to speak with him, you would +not think he was a villain likely to murder a defenceless +old man. But if he did not kill my poor +father, I know not who did."</p> + +<p>"I'll call on him to-morrow at noon," said Lucian, +"and later on I shall come here to tell you what +has passed between us."</p> + +<p>This remark brought the business between them +to a close, but Lucian would fain have lingered to +engage Diana in lighter conversation. Miss Vrain, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>however, was too much disturbed by the news he +had brought her to indulge in frivolous talk. Her +mind, busied with recollections of her deceased +father, and anxiously seeking some means whereby +to avenge his death, was ill attuned to encourage +at the moment the aspirations which she knew +Lucian entertained.</p> + +<p>The barrister, therefore, sighed and hinted in +vain. His Dulcinea would have none of him or +his courting, and he was compelled to retire, as +disconsolate a lover as could be seen. To slightly +alter the saying of Shakespeare, "the course of true +love never does run smooth," but there were surely +an unusual number of obstacles in the current of +Denzil's desires. But as he consoled himself with +reflecting that the greater the prize the harder it +is to win, so it behooved him to do his devoir like +a true knight.</p> + +<p>The next day, at noon, Lucian, armed for the +encounter with the evidence of Rhoda and of the +cloak, presented himself at the rooms which Count +Ferruci temporarily inhabited in Marquis Street. +He not only found the Italian ready to receive him, +but in full possession of the adventure of the cloak, +which, as he admitted, he had learned from Lydia +the previous evening. Also, Count Ferruci was +extremely indignant, and informed Lucian that he +was easily able to clear himself of the suspicion. +While he raged on in his fiery Italian way, Denzil, +who saw no chance of staying the torrent of words, +examined him at his leisure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>Ercole Ferruci was, as Diana had said, a singularly +handsome man of thirty-five. He was dark, +slender, and tall, with dark, flashing eyes, a heavy +black moustache, and an alert military look about +him which showed that he had served in the army. +The above description savours a trifle of the impossible +hero of a young lady's dream; and, as a +matter of fact, Ferruci was not unlike that ideal +personage. He had all the looks and graces which +women admire, and seemed honest and fiery enough +in a manly way—the last person, as Lucian thought, +to gain his aims by underhand ways, or to kill a +helpless old man. But Lucian, legally experienced +in human frailty, was not to be put off with voluble +conversation and outward graces. He wished for +proofs of innocence, and these he tried to obtain +as soon as Ferruci drew breath in his fiery harangue.</p> + +<p>"If you are innocent, Count," said Lucian, in +reply to the fluent, incorrect English of the Italian, +"appearances are against you. However, you can +prove yourself innocent, if you will."</p> + +<p>"Sir!" cried Ferruci, "is not my word good?"</p> + +<p>"Not good enough for an English court," replied +Lucian coldly. "You say you were not in Jersey +Street on Christmas Eve. Who can prove that?"</p> + +<p>"My friend—my dear friend, Dr. Jorce of +Hampstead, sir. I was with him; oh, yes, sir, he +will tell you so."</p> + +<p>"Very good! I hope his evidence will clear you," +replied the more phlegmatic Englishman. "And +this cloak?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>"I never bought the cloak! I saw it not before!"</p> + +<p>"Then come with me to the shop in Bayswater, +and hear what the girl who sold it says."</p> + +<p>"I will come at once!" cried Ferruci hastily, +catching up his cane and hat. "Come, then, my +friend! Come! What does the woman say?"</p> + +<p>"That she sold the cloak to a tall man—to a +dark man with a moustache, and one who told her +he was Italian."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" retorted the Count, as they hailed a hansom. +"Is all that she can say? Why, all we Italians +are supposed to be tall and dark, and wear +moustaches. Your common people in England never +fancy one of us can be fair."</p> + +<p>"You are not fair," replied Lucian drily, "and +your looks correspond to the description."</p> + +<p>"True! Oh, yes, sir! But that description might +describe a dozen of my countrymen. And, Mr. +Denzil," added the Count, laughing, "I do not go +round about saying to common people that I am +an Italian. It is not my custom to explain."</p> + +<p>Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and said no more +until they entered the shop in Bayswater. As he +knew from the previous visit where the saleswoman +was located, he led the Count rapidly to the place. +The girl was there, as brisk and businesslike as ever. +She looked up as they approached, and came forward +to serve them, with a swift glance at both.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to trouble you again," said Lucian +ceremoniously, "but you told me yesterday that you +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>sold a blue cloak, lined with rabbit skin, to an Italian +gentleman, and—"</p> + +<p>"And am I the gentleman?" interrupted Ferruci. +"Did I buy a cloak?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the shopwoman, after a sharp +glance. "This is not the gentleman who bought the +cloak."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>A NEW DEVELOPMENT</h3> + + +<p>"You see, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci, turning +triumphantly to Lucian, "I did not buy this cloak; +I am not the Italian this lady speaks of."</p> + +<p>Lucian was extremely astonished at this unexpected +testimony in favour of the Count, and questioned +the shopwoman sharply. "Are you certain of what +you say?" he asked, looking at her intently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am, sir," replied the girl stiffly, as though +she did not like her word doubted. "The gentleman +who bought the cloak was not so tall as this +one, nor did he speak English well. I had great +difficulty in learning what he wanted."</p> + +<p>"But you said that he was dark, with a moustache—and—"</p> + +<p>"I said all that, sir; but this is not the gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Could you swear to it?" said Lucian, more chagrined +than he liked to show to the victorious +Ferruci.</p> + +<p>"If it is necessary, I could, sir," said the shopwoman, +with the greatest confidence. And after so +direct a reply, and such certain evidence, Denzil had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>nothing to do but retire from an awkward position +as gracefully as he could.</p> + +<p>"And now, sir," said Ferruci, who had followed +him out of the shop, "you come with me, please."</p> + +<p>"Where to?" asked Lucian gloomily.</p> + +<p>"To my friend—to my rooms. I have shown I +did not buy the cloak you speak of. Now we must +find my friend, Dr. Jorce, to tell you I was not +at Jersey Street when you say."</p> + +<p>"Is Dr. Jorce at your rooms?"</p> + +<p>"I asked him to call about this time," said Ferruci, +glancing at his watch. "When Mrs. Vrain +speak to me of what you say I wish to defend myself, +so I write last night to my friend to talk with +you this day. I get his telegram saying he would +come at two hours."</p> + +<p>Lucian glanced in his turn at his watch. "Half-past +one," he said, beckoning to a cab. "Very good, +Count, we will just have time to get back to your +place."</p> + +<p>"And what you think now?" said Ferruci, with a +malicious twinkle in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what to think," replied Lucian +dismally, "save that it is a strange coincidence that +<i>another</i> Italian should have bought the cloak."</p> + +<p>The Count shrugged his shoulders as they got +into the hansom, but he did not speak until they +were well on their way back to Marquis Street. He +then looked thoughtfully at his companion. "I do +not believe coincidence," he said abruptly, "but in +design."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>"What do you mean, Count? I do not quite +follow you."</p> + +<p>"Some one who knows I love Mrs. Vrain wish to +injure me," said the Italian rapidly, "and so make +theirself like me to buy that cloak. Ah! you see? +But he could not make himself as tall as me. Oh, +yes, sir, I am sure it is so."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any one who would disguise himself +so as to implicate you in the murder?"</p> + +<p>"No." Ferruci shook his head. "I cannot think +of one man—not one."</p> + +<p>"Do you know a man called Wrent?" asked +Lucian abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I do not, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci at once. +"Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought he might be the man to disguise +himself. But no," added Lucian, remembering +Rhoda's account of Wrent's white hair and +beard, "it cannot be him. He would not sacrifice +his beard to carry out the plan; in fact he could not +without attracting Rhoda's attention."</p> + +<p>"Rhoda! Wrent! What strange names you +talk of!" cried Ferruci vivaciously.</p> + +<p>"No stranger than that of your friend Jorce."</p> + +<p>Ferruci laughed. "Oh, he is altogether most +strange. You see."</p> + +<p>It was as the Italian said. Dr. Jorce—who was +waiting for them in the Count's room—proved to +be a small, dried-up atom of a man, who looked as +though all the colour had been bleached out of him. +At first sight he was more like a monkey than a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>man, owing to his slight, queer figure and agile +movements; but a closer examination revealed that +he had a clever face, and a pair of most remarkable +eyes. These were of a steel-grey hue, with an extraordinary +intensity of gaze; and when he fixed +them on Lucian at the moment of introduction the +young barrister felt as though he were being mesmerised.</p> + +<p>For the rest, Jorce was dressed sombrely in black +cloth, was extremely voluble and vivacious, and impressed +Lucian with the idea that he was less a fellow +mortal than a changeling from fairyland. Quite +an exceptional man was Dr. Jorce, and, as the +Italian said, "most strange."</p> + +<p>"My good friend," said Ferruci, laying his stern +hand on the shoulder of this oddity, "this gentleman +wishes you to decide a—what do you say?—bet?"</p> + +<p>"A bet!" cried the little doctor in a deep bass +voice, but with some indignation. "Do I understand, +Count, that you have brought me all the way +from my place in Hampstead to decide a bet?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but sir, it is a bet most important," said +Ferruci, with a smile. "This Mr. Denzil declares +that he saw me in Pim—Pim—what?"</p> + +<p>"In Pimlico," said Lucian, seeing that Ferruci +could not pronounce the word. "I say that the +Count was in Pimlico on Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong, sir," said Jorce, with a wave +of his skinny hand. "My friend, Count Ferruci, +was in my house at Hampstead on that evening."</p> + +<p>"Was he?" remarked Lucian, astonished at this +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>confident assertion. "And at what time did he +leave?"</p> + +<p>"He did not leave till next morning. My friend +the Count remained under my roof all night, and +left at twelve o'clock on Christmas morning."</p> + +<p>"So you see," said Ferruci airily to Lucian, "that +I could not have done what you think, as that was +done—by what you said—between eleven and +twelve on that night."</p> + +<p>"Was the Count with you at ten o'clock on that +evening?" asked Denzil.</p> + +<p>"Certainly he was; so you have lost your bet, +Mr. Denzil. Sorry to bring you such bad fortune, +but truth is truth, you know."</p> + +<p>"Would you repeat this statement, if I wished?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Call on me at any time. 'The +Haven, Hampstead'; that will always find me."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but I do not think it will be necessary for +Mr. Denzil to call on you, sir," interposed the +Count rapidly. "You can always come to me. Well, +Mr. Denzil, are you satisfied?"</p> + +<p>"I am," replied Lucian. "I have lost my bet, +Count, and I apologise. Good-day, Dr. Jorce, and +thank you. Count Ferruci, I wish you good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Not even <i>au revoir</i>?" said Ferruci mockingly.</p> + +<p>"That depends upon the future," replied Lucian +coolly, and forthwith went away in low spirits at +the downfall of his hopes. Far from revealing the +mystery of Vrain's death, his late attempts to solve +it had resulted in utter failure. Lydia had cleared +herself; Ferruci had proved himself innocent; and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>Lucian could not make up his mind what was now +to be done.</p> + +<p>In this dilemma he sought out Diana, as, knowing +from experience that where a man's logic ends +a woman's instinct begins, he thought she might +suggest some way out of the difficulty. On arriving +at the Royal John Hotel he found that Diana was +waiting for him with great impatience; and hardly +giving herself time to greet him, she asked how +he had fared in his interview with Count Ferruci.</p> + +<p>"Has that man been arrested, Mr. Denzil?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Vrain. I regret to say that he has +not been arrested. To speak plainly, he has, so +far as I can see, proved himself innocent."</p> + +<p>"Innocent! And the evidence against him?"</p> + +<p>"Is utterly useless. I brought him face to face +with the woman who sold the cloak, and she denies +that Ferruci bought it."</p> + +<p>"But she said the buyer was an Italian."</p> + +<p>"She did, and dark, with a moustache. All the +same, she did not recognise the Count. She says +the buyer was not so tall, and spoke worse English."</p> + +<p>"Ferruci could make his English bad if he liked."</p> + +<p>"Probably; but he could not make his stature +shorter. No, Miss Vrain, I am afraid that our +Italian friend, in spite of the evidence against him, +did not buy the cloak. That he resembles the purchaser +in looks and nationality is either a coincidence +or——"</p> + +<p>"Or what?" seeing that Lucian hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Or design," finished the barrister. "And, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>deed, +the Count himself is of this opinion. He believes +that some one who wished to get him into +trouble personated him."</p> + +<p>"Has he any suspicions as to whom the person +may be?"</p> + +<p>"He says not, and I believe him; for if he did +suspect any particular individual he certainly would +gain nothing by concealment of the fact."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Diana thoughtfully, "so that denial +of the saleswoman disposes of the cloak's evidence. +What about the Count's presence in Jersey Street on +Christmas Eve?"</p> + +<p>"He was not there!"</p> + +<p>"But Rhoda, the servant, saw him both in the +house and in the back yard!"</p> + +<p>"She saw a dark man, with a moustache, but +she could not say that he was a foreigner. She does +not know Ferruci, remember. The man she saw +must have been the same as the purchaser of the +cloak."</p> + +<p>"Where does Ferruci say he was?"</p> + +<p>"At Hampstead, visiting a friend."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And what does the friend say?"</p> + +<p>"He declares that the Count was with him on +Christmas Eve and stayed all night."</p> + +<p>"That is very convenient evidence for the Count, +Mr. Denzil. Who is this accommodating friend?"</p> + +<p>"A doctor called Jorce."</p> + +<p>"Can his word be trusted?"</p> + +<p>"So far as I can judge from his looks and a short +acquaintance, I should say so."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"It was half-past eight when the servant saw +the dark man run out of the yard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"And at half-past eight Ferruci was at Hampstead +in the house of Dr. Jorce?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of," said Lucian, remembering +that he had asked Jorce the question rather generally +than particularly, "but the doctor declared that +Ferruci was with him at ten o'clock on that evening, +and did not leave him until next morning; so as +your father was killed between eleven and twelve, +Ferruci must be innocent."</p> + +<p>"It would seem so, if this doctor is to be believed," +muttered Diana reflectively, "but judging +by what you have told me, there is nothing to show +that Ferruci was <i>not</i> in Pimlico at eight-thirty, and +was <i>not</i> the man whom the servant saw."</p> + +<p>"Well, certainly he could get from Pimlico to +Hampstead in an hour and a half. However, the +main point about all this evidence is, that neither +Ferruci nor Lydia Vrain killed your father."</p> + +<p>"No! no! that seems clear. Still! still! they +know about it. Oh, I am sure of it. It must have +been Ferruci who was in Pimlico on that night. +If so, he knows who Wrent is, and why he stayed +in Jersey Street."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, although he denies ever hearing the +name of Wrent. But I would not be surprised if +the man who could solve the mystery is——"</p> + +<p>"Who?—who?"</p> + +<p>"Doctor Jorce himself. I feel sure of it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>TWO MONTHS PASS</h3> + + +<p>Unwilling to give up prosecuting the Vrain +case while the slightest hope remained of solving +its mystery, Lucian sought out Link, the detective, +and detailed all the evidence he had collected since +the constituted authorities had abandoned the matter. +Although Mrs. Vrain and Ferruci had exculpated +themselves entirely, Denzil thought that +Link, with his professional distrust and trained +sense of ferreting out secrets, might discern better +than himself whether such exculpations were warranted +by circumstances.</p> + +<p>Link heard all that Denzil had to tell him with +outward indifference and inward surprise; for while +unwilling, through jealousy of an amateur, to flatter +the barrister by a visible compliment, yet he silently +admitted that Denzil had made his discoveries and +profited by them with much acuteness. What annoyed +him, however, was that the young man had +pushed his inquiries to the uttermost limit; and that +there was no chance of any glory accruing to himself +by prosecuting them further. Still, on the possibility +that something might come of it, he went +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>over the ground already traversed by the amateur +detective.</p> + +<p>"You should have told me of your intentions +when Miss Vrain spoke to you in the first instance," +he said to Lucian by way of rebuke. "As it is, you +have confused the clues so much that I do not know +which one to take."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that I have pursued each clue until +fate or circumstance clipped it short," retorted +Lucian, nettled by this injustice. "Mrs. Vrain has +defended herself successfully, much in the same way +as Count Ferruci has done. Your only chance of +getting at the truth lies in discovering Wrent; and +unless Rhoda helps you there, I do not see how you +can trace the man."</p> + +<p>"I am of a different opinion," said Link, lying +freely to conceal his doubts of success in the matter. +"As you have failed through lack of experience, I +shall attempt to unravel this skein."</p> + +<p>"You attempted to do so before, and gave it +up because of the tangle," said Lucian with quiet +irony. "And unless you discover more than I have +done, you will dismiss the matter again as impossible. +So far as I can see, the mystery of Vrain's +death is more of a mystery than ever, and will never +be solved."</p> + +<p>"I'll make one last attempt to unriddle it, however," +answered Link, with a confidence he was +far from feeling, "but, of course—not being one of +your impossible detectives of fiction—I may fail."</p> + +<p>"You are certain to fail," said Lucian decisively, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>and with this disheartening prophecy he left Link +to his task of—apparently—spinning ropes of sand.</p> + +<p>Whether it was that Link was so doubtful of the +result as to extend little energy in the search, or +whether he really found the task impossible of accomplishment, +it is difficult to say, but assuredly he +failed as completely as Lucian predicted. With +outward zeal he set to work; interviewed Lydia and +the Italian, to make certain that their defence was +genuine; examined the Pegall family, who were +dreadfully alarmed by their respectability being intruded +upon by a common detective, and obtained +a fresh denial from Baxter & Co.'s saleswoman that +Ferruci was the purchaser of the cloak. Also he +cross-questioned Mrs. Bensusan and her sharp +handmaid in the most exhaustive manner, and did +his best to trace out the mysterious Wrent who had +so much to do with the matter. He even called +on Dr. Jorce at Hampstead, to satisfy himself as to +the actual time of Ferruci's arrival in that neighbourhood +on Christmas Eve. But here he received +a check, for Jorce had gone abroad on his annual +holiday, and was not expected back for a month.</p> + +<p>In fact, Link did all that a man could do to arrive +at the truth, only to find himself, at the end of +his labours, in the same position as Lucian had +been. Disgusted at this result, he threw up his +brief, and called upon Diana and Denzil, with +whom he had previously made an appointment, to +notify them of his inability to bring the matter to +a satisfactory conclusion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>"There is not the slightest chance of finding the +assassin of Mr. Vrain," said Link, after he had +set forth at length his late failures. "The more I +go into the matter the more I see it."</p> + +<p>"Yet you were so confident of doing more than +I," said Lucian quietly.</p> + +<p>Link turned sulkily, after the fashion of a bad +loser.</p> + +<p>"I did my best," he retorted gloomily. "No +man can do more. Some crimes are beyond the +power of the law to punish for sheer lack of proof. +This is one of them; and, so far as I can see, this +unknown assassin will be punished on Judgment +Day—not before."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't think that Signor Ferruci is +guilty?" said Diana.</p> + +<p>"No. He has had nothing to do with the matter; +nor has Mrs. Vrain brought about the death +in any way."</p> + +<p>"You cannot say who killed my father?"</p> + +<p>"Not for certain, but I suspect Wrent."</p> + +<p>"Then why not find Wrent?" asked Diana +bluntly.</p> + +<p>"He has hidden his trail too well," began Link, +"and—and——"</p> + +<p>"And if you did find him," finished Denzil coolly, +"he might prove himself guiltless, after the +fashion of Mrs. Vrain and Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"He might, sir; there is no knowing. But since +you think I have done so little, Mr. Denzil, let me +ask you who it is you suspect?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>"Dr. Jorce of Hampstead."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! pooh!" cried Link, with contempt. "He +didn't kill the man—how could he, seeing he was +at Hampstead on that Christmas Eve midnight, as +I found out from his servants?"</p> + +<p>"I don't suspect him of actually striking the +blow," replied Lucian, "but I believe he knows +who did."</p> + +<p>"Not he! Dr. Jorce has too responsible a position +to mix himself up in a crime from which he +gains no benefit."</p> + +<p>"Why! what position does he hold?"</p> + +<p>"He is the owner of a private lunatic asylum. +Is it likely that a man like him would commit a +murder?"</p> + +<p>"Again I deny that he did commit the crime; +but I am certain, from the very fact of his friendship +with Ferruci, that he knows more than he +chooses to tell. Why should the Italian be intimate +with the owner of a private asylum—with a +man so much beneath him in rank?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. But if you suspect Dr. +Jorce you had better see him when he comes back +from his holidays—in a month."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"In Italy, and the Count has gone with him."</p> + +<p>Diana and Lucian looked at one another, and the +former spoke: "That is strange," she said. "I +agree with Mr. Denzil, it is peculiar, to say the +least of it, that an Italian noble should make a +bosom friend of a man so far inferior to him in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>position. Don't you think so yourself, Mr. Link?"</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Link gravely, "I think nothing +about it, save that you will never find out the truth. +I have tried my best, and failed; and I am confident +enough in my own power to say that where I have +failed no one else will succeed. Miss Vrain, Mr. +Denzil, I wish you good-day."</p> + +<p>And with this bragging speech, which revealed +the hurt vanity of the man, Mr. Link took his departure. +Lucian held his peace, for in the face of +this desertion of a powerful ally he did not know +what to say. Diana walked to the sitting-room window +and watched Link disappear into the crowd +of passers-by. At that she heaved a sigh, for with +him—she thought—went every chance of learning +the truth, since if he, an experienced person in such +matters, turned back from the quest, there could +assuredly be no help in any one not professional, +and with less trained abilities.</p> + +<p>Then she turned to Lucian.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing more to be done, I suppose," +said she, sighing again.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not," replied Lucian dismally, for +he was quite of her opinion regarding the desertion +of the detective.</p> + +<p>"Then I must leave this unknown assassin to the +punishment of God!" said Diana quietly. "And +I can only thank you for all you have done for me, +Mr. Denzil, and say"—she hesitated and blushed, +then added, with some emphasis—"say <i>au revoir</i>."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" ejaculated Denzil, with an indrawn +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>breath of relief, "I am glad you did not say good-bye."</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to say it, Mr. Denzil. I have +not so many friends in the world that I can afford +to lose so good a one as yourself."</p> + +<p>"I am content," said Lucian softly, "that you +should think of me as your friend—for the present."</p> + +<p>His meaning was so unmistakable that Diana, +still blushing, and somewhat confused, hastened to +prevent his saying more at so awkward a moment. +"Then as my friend I hope you will come and see +me at Berwin Manor."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted. When do you go down?"</p> + +<p>"Within a fortnight. I must remain that time +in town to see my lawyer about the estate left by +my poor father."</p> + +<p>"And see Mrs. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Diana coldly. "Now that my +father is dead, Mrs. Vrain is nothing to me. Indirectly, +I look upon her as the cause of his death, +for if she had not driven both of us out of our own +home, my father might have been alive still. I +shall not call on Mrs. Vrain, and I do not think +she will dare to call on me."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that," rejoined Lucian, who +was well acquainted with the lengths to which Mrs. +Vrain's audacity would carry her; "but let us dismiss +her, with all your other troubles. May I call +on you again before you leave town?"</p> + +<p>"Occasionally," replied Diana, smiling and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>blushing; "and you will come down to Berwin +Manor when I send you an invitation?"</p> + +<p>"I should think so," said Denzil, in high glee, as +he rose to depart; "and now I will say——"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye?" said Miss Vrain, holding out her +hand.</p> + +<p>"No. I will use your own form of farewell—<i>au +revoir</i>."</p> + +<p>Then Lucian went out from the presence of his +beloved, exulting that she had proved so kind as +not to dismiss him when she no longer required +his services. In another woman he would not have +minded such ingratitude, but had Diana banished +him thus he would have been miserable beyond +words. Also, as Lucian joyfully reflected, her invitation +to Berwin Manor showed that, far from +wishing to lose sight of him, she desired to draw +him into yet closer intimacy. There could be nothing +but good resulting from her invitation and his +acceptance, and already Denzil looked forward to +some bright summer's day in the green and leafy +country, when he should ask this goddess among +women to be his wife. If encouragement and looks +and blushes went for anything, he hardly doubted +the happy result.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, while Lucian dreamed his +dreams, Diana, also dreaming in her own way, remained +in town and attended to business. She saw +her lawyers, and had her affairs looked into, so +that when she went to Bath she was legally installed +as the mistress of Berwin Manor and its surround<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>ing +acres. As Lucian hinted, Lydia did indeed try +to see her stepdaughter. She called twice, and was +refused admission into Diana's presence. She wrote +three times, and received no reply to her letters; +so the consequence was that, finding Diana declined +to have anything to do with her in any way whatsoever, +she became very bitter. This feeling she +expressed to Lucian, whom she one day met in Piccadilly.</p> + +<p>"As if I had done anything," finished Lydia, after +a recital of all her grievances. "I call it real +mean. Don't you think so, Mr. Denzil?"</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, Mrs. Vrain," said Lucian stiffly, +"I think you and Miss Vrain are better apart."</p> + +<p>"Of course you defend her. But I guess I can't +blame you, as I know what you are driving at."</p> + +<p>"What about Signor Ferruci?" asked Denzil, +parrying.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we are good friends still, but nothing more. +As he proved that he did not kill Mark, I've no +reason to give him his walking-ticket. But," added +Mrs. Vrain drily, "I guess you'll be married to +Diana before I hitch up 'longside Ercole."</p> + +<p>"How do you know I shall marry Miss Vrain?" +asked Lucian, flushing.</p> + +<p>"If you saw your face in a glass, you wouldn't +ask, I guess. Tomatoes ain't in it for redness. I +won't dance at your wedding, and I won't break +my heart, either," and with a gay nod Mrs. Lydia +Vrain tripped away, evidently quite forgetful of the +late tragedy in her life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>AT BERWIN MANOR</h3> + + +<p>The heritage of Diana lay some miles from +Bath, in a pleasant wooded valley, through which +meandered a placid and slow-flowing stream. On +either side of this water stretched broad meadow +lands, flat and fertile, as well they might be, seeing +they were of rich black loam, and well drained, +withal. To the right these meadows were bounded +by forest lands, the trees of which grew thickly up +and over the ridge, and on the space where wood +met fields was placed the manor, a quaint square +building of Georgian architecture, and some two +centuries old.</p> + +<p>Against the green of the trees its warm walls of +red brick and sloping roof of bluish slate made a +pleasant spot of colour. There stretched a terrace +before it; beneath the terrace a flower garden and +orchard; and below these the meadow lands, white +with snow in winter, black in spring, with ridgy +furrows, and golden with grain in the hot days of +summer. Altogether a lovely and peaceful spot, +where a man could pass pleasant days in rural quiet, +a hermitage of rest for the life-worn and heart-weary.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>Here, towards the end of summer, came Lucian, +to rest his brain after the turmoil of London, and +to court his mistress under the most favourable circumstances. +Diana had established herself in her +ancestral home with a superannuated governess as +a chaperon, for without such a guardianship she +could hardly have invited the barrister to visit her. +Miss Priscilla Barbar was a placid, silver-haired +old dame, who, having taught Diana for many +years, had returned, now that the American Mrs. +Vrain had departed, to spend the rest of her days +under the roof of her dear pupil.</p> + +<p>She took a great fancy to Lucian, which was +just as well, seeing what was the object of his visit, +and complacently watched the growing attachment +between the handsome young couple, who seemed +so suited to one another. But her duties as chaperon +were nominal, for when not pottering about +the garden she was knitting in a snug corner, and +when knitting failed to interest her she slumbered +quietly, in defiance of the etiquette which should +have compelled her to make a third in the conversation +of her young friends.</p> + +<p>As for Lucian and his charming hostess, they +found that they had so many tastes in common, and +enjoyed each other's society so much, that they +were hardly ever apart. Diana saw with the keen +eyes of a woman that Lucian was in love with her, +and let it be seen in a marvellously short space of +time, and without much difficulty, that she was in +love with him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>But even after Lucian had been at the manor a +fortnight, and daily in the society of Diana, he +spoke no word of love. Seeing how beautiful she +was, and how dowered with lands and rents and +horses, he began to ask himself whether it was not +rather a presumption on his part to ask her to share +his life. He had only three hundred a year—six +pounds a week—and a profession in which, as yet, +he had not succeeded; so he could offer her very little +in exchange for her beauty, wealth, and position.</p> + +<p>The poor lover became quite pale with fruitless +longing, and his spirits fell so low that good Miss +Priscilla one day drew him aside to ask about his +health.</p> + +<p>"For," said she, "if you are ill in body, Mr. +Denzil, I know of some remedies—old woman's +medicines you will call them, no doubt—which, +with the blessing of God, may do you good."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Barbar, but I am not ill in +body—worse luck!" and Lucian sighed.</p> + +<p>"Why worse luck, Mr. Denzil?" said the old +lady severely. "That is an ungrateful speech to +Providence."</p> + +<p>"I would rather be ill in body than ill in mind," +explained Denzil, blushing, for in some ways he +was younger than his years.</p> + +<p>"And are you ill in mind?" asked Miss Priscilla, +with a twinkle in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Alas! yes. Can you cure me?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>"No. For that cure I shall hand you over to +Diana."</p> + +<p>"Miss Priscilla!" And Lucian coloured again, +this time with vexation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Denzil," laughed the governess, "because +I am old you must not imagine that I am +blind. I see that you love Diana."</p> + +<p>"Better than my life!" cried the devoted lover +with much fervour.</p> + +<p>"Of course! That is the usual romantic answer +to make. Well, why do you not tell Diana so, with +any pretty additions your fancy suggests?"</p> + +<p>"She might not listen to me," said this doubting +lover dolefully.</p> + +<p>"Very true," replied his consoler. "On the other +hand, she might. Besides, Mr. Denzil, however +much the world may have altered since my youth, I +have yet to learn that it is the lady's part to propose +to the gentleman."</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Barbar, I am poor!"</p> + +<p>"What of that? Diana is rich."</p> + +<p>"Don't I know it? For that very reason I hesitate +to ask her."</p> + +<p>"Because you are afraid of being called a fortune-hunter, +I suppose," said the old lady drily. "That +shows a lack of moral courage which is not worthy +of you, Mr. Denzil. Take an old woman's advice, +young man, and put your fortunes to the test. Remember +Montrose's advice in the song."</p> + +<p>"You approve of my marrying Diana—I mean +Miss Vrain?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p><p>"From what I have seen of you, and from what +Diana has told me about you, I could wish her no +better husband. Poor girl! After the tragical +death of her father, and her wretched life with that +American woman, she deserves a happy future."</p> + +<p>"And do you think—do you really think that +she—that she—would be happy with—with me?" +stammered Lucian, hardly daring to believe Miss +Priscilla, whose acquaintance with him seemed too +recent to warrant such trust.</p> + +<p>The wise old woman laughed and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Ask her yourself, my dear," she said, patting +his hand. "She will be able to answer that question +better than I. Besides, girls like to say 'yea' or +'nay,' themselves."</p> + +<p>This seemed to be good advice, and certainly +none could have been more grateful to the timid +lover. That very night he made up his mind to +risk his fortunes by speaking to Diana. It was +no easy matter for the young man to bring himself +to do so, for cool, bold, and fluent as he was on +ordinary occasions, the fever of love rendered him +shy and nervous. The looks of Diana acted on his +spirits as the weather does on a barometer. A smile +made him jocund and hilarious, a frown abashed +him almost to gloom. And in the April weather of +her presence he was as variable as a weather-cock. +It is, therefore, little to be wondered at that one +ordinarily daring should tremble to ask a question +which might be answered in the negative. True, +Miss Barbar's partisanship heartened him a trifle, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>but he still feared for the result. Cupid, as well +as conscience, makes cowards of us all—and Lucian +was a doubting lover.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of his stay Miss Priscilla—as +usual—fell asleep one evening after dinner, and +Diana, feeling the house too warm, stepped out +into the garden, followed by Lucian. The sun had +just set behind the undulating hills, and the clear +sky, to the zenith, was of a pale rose colour, striped +towards the western horizon with lines of golden +cloud. In the east a cold blue prevailed, and here +and there a star sparkled in the arch of the sky.</p> + +<p>The garden was filled with floating shadows, +which seemed to glide into it from the dark recesses +of the near woods, and in a copse some distance +away a nightingale was singing to his mate, +and filling the silence with melody. The notes fluted +sweetly through the still air, mingling with the sigh +of the rising wind and the musical splashing of the +fountain. This shot up a pillar of silvery water to +a great height, and in descending sprinkled the near +flower beds with its cold spray. All was inexpressibly +beautiful to the eye and soothing to the ear—a +scene and an hour for love. It might have been +the garden of the Capulets, and those who moved +in it—the immortal lovers, as yet uncursed by Fate.</p> + +<p>"Only three more days," sighed Lucian as he +walked slowly down the path beside Diana, "and +then that noisy London again."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is as well," said Diana, in her prac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>tical +way. "You would rust here. But is there +any need for you to go back so soon?"</p> + +<p>"I must—for my own peace of mind."</p> + +<p>Diana started and blushed at the meaning of his +tone and words.</p> + +<p>Then she recovered her serenity and sat down on +an old stone seat, near which stood a weather-beaten +statue of Venus. Seeing that she kept silent in spite +of his broad hint, Lucian—to bring matters to a +crisis—resolved to approach the subject in a mythological +way through the image of the goddess.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I am not a Greek, Miss Vrain," he +said abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Diana, secretly astonished by the +irrelevancy of the remark.</p> + +<p>Lucian plucked a red rose from the bush which +grew near the statue and placed it on the pedestal.</p> + +<p>"Because I would lay my offering at the feet of +the goddess, and touch her knees to demand a +boon."</p> + +<p>"What boon would you ask?" said Diana in a +low voice.</p> + +<p>"I would beseech that in return for my rose of +flowers she would give me the rose of womanhood."</p> + +<p>"A modest request. Do you think it would be +granted?"</p> + +<p>"Do you?" asked Lucian, picking up the rose +again.</p> + +<p>"How can I reply to your parables, or read your +dark sayings?" said Diana, half in earnest, half in +mirth.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>"I can speak plainer if you permit it."</p> + +<p>"If—if you like!"</p> + +<p>The young man laid the rose on Diana's lap. +"Then in return for my rose give me—yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Denzil!" cried Diana, starting up, whereby +the flower fell to the ground. "You—you surprise +me!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I surprise myself," said Lucian sadly. +"That I should dare to raise my eyes to you is no +doubt surprising."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all," exclaimed Diana coldly. +"I like to be woo'd like a woman, not honoured like +a goddess."</p> + +<p>"You are both woman and goddess! But—you +are not angry?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I be angry?"</p> + +<p>"Because I—I love you!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot be angry with—with—shall we say a +compliment."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Diana!"</p> + +<p>"Wait! wait!" cried Miss Vrain, waving back +this too eager lover. "You cannot love me! You +have known me only a month or two."</p> + +<p>"Love can be born in an hour," cried Lucian +eagerly. "I loved you on the first day I saw you! +I love you now—I shall love you ever!"</p> + +<p>"Will you truly love me ever, Lucian?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling! Can you doubt it? And +you?" He looked at her hopefully.</p> + +<p>"And I?" she repeated in a pretty mocking tone, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>"and I?" With a laugh, she bent and picked up +the flower. "I take the rose and I give you—"</p> + +<p>"Yourself!" cried the enraptured lover, and the +next moment he was clasping her to his breast. +"Oh, Diana, dearest! Will you really be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said softly, and kissed him.</p> + +<p>For a few moments the emotions of both overcame +them too much to permit further speech; then +Diana sat down and made Lucian sit beside her.</p> + +<p>"Lucian," she said in a firm voice, "I love you, +and I shall be your wife—when you find out who +killed my poor father!"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible!" he cried in dismay.</p> + +<p>"No. We must prosecute the search. I have +no right to be happy while the wretch who killed +him is still at large. We have failed hitherto, but +we may succeed yet! and when we succeed I shall +marry you."</p> + +<p>"My darling!" cried Lucian in ecstasy; and then +in a more subdued tone: "I'll do all I can to find +out the truth. But, after all, from what point can +I begin afresh?"</p> + +<p>"From the point of Mrs. Vrain," said Diana unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vrain!" cried the startled Lucian. "Do +you still suspect her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do!"</p> + +<p>"But she has cleared herself on the most undeniable +evidence."</p> + +<p>"Not in my eyes," said Diana obstinately. "If +Mrs. Vrain is innocent, how did she find out that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>the unknown man murdered in Geneva Square was +my father?"</p> + +<p>"By his assumption of the name of Berwin, +which was mentioned in the advertisement; also +from the description of the body, and particularly +by the mention of the cicatrice on the right cheek, +and of the loss of the little finger of the left hand."</p> + +<p>Diana started. "I never heard that about the +little finger," she said hurriedly. "Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I saw myself when I knew your father +as Berwin, that he had lost that little finger."</p> + +<p>"Then, Lucian, you did <i>not</i> see my father!"</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Denzil, hardly able to credit her +words.</p> + +<p>"My father never lost a finger!" cried Diana, +starting to her feet. "Ah, Lucian, I now begin to +see light. That man who called himself Berwin, +who was murdered, was not my father. No, I believe—on +my soul, I believe that my father, Mark +Vrain, is alive!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>A STARTLING THEORY</h3> + + +<p>When Diana declared that her father yet lived, +Lucian drew back from her in amazement, for of +all impossible things said of this impossible case +this saying of hers was the strangest and most incredible. +Hitherto, not a suspicion had entered his +mind but that the man so mysteriously slain in Geneva +Square was Mark Vrain, and, for the moment, +he thought that Diana was distraught to deny so +positive a fact.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible," said he, shaking his head, +"quite impossible. Mrs. Vrain identified the corpse, +and so did other people who knew your father +well."</p> + +<p>"As to Mrs. Vrain," said Diana contemptuously, +"I quite believe she would lie to gain her own ends. +And it may be that the man who was murdered was +like my father in the face, but—"</p> + +<p>"He had the mark on his cheek," interrupted +Lucian, impatient of this obstinate belief in the +criminality of Lydia.</p> + +<p>"I know that mark well," replied Miss Vrain. +"My father received it in a duel he fought in his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>youth, when he was a student in a German university; +but the missing finger." She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"He might have lost the finger while you were in +Australia," suggested the barrister.</p> + +<p>"He might," rejoined Diana doubtfully, "but it +is unlikely. As to other people identifying the +body, they no doubt did so by looking at the face +and its scar. Still, I do not believe the murdered +man was my father."</p> + +<p>"If not, why should Mrs. Vrain identify the body +as that of her husband?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Because she wanted to get the assurance +money."</p> + +<p>"She may have been misled by the resemblance of +the dead man to your father."</p> + +<p>"And who provided that resemblance? My dear +Lucian, I would not be at all surprised to learn that +there was conspiracy as well as murder in this matter. +My father left his home, and Lydia could +not find him. I quite believe that. As she cannot +prove his death, she finds it impossible to obtain +the assurance money; so what does she do?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot guess," said Lucian, anxious to hear +Diana's theory.</p> + +<p>"Why, she finds a man who resembles my father, +and sets him to play the part of the recluse in Geneva +Square. She selects a man in ill health and +given to drink, that he may die the sooner; and, by +being buried as Mark Vrain, give her the money she +wants. When you told me of this man Berwin's +coughing and drinking, I thought it strange, as my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>father had no consumptive disease when I left him, +and never, during his life, was he given to over-indulgence +in drink. Now I see the truth. This +dead man was Lydia's puppet."</p> + +<p>"Even granting that this is so, which I doubt, +Diana, why should the man be murdered?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" cried Diana fiercely. "Because he was +not dying quickly enough for that woman's purpose. +She did not kill him herself, if her alibi is +to be credited, but she employed Ferruci to murder +him."</p> + +<p>"You forget Signor Ferruci also proved an +alibi."</p> + +<p>"A very doubtful one," said Miss Vrain scornfully. +"You did not ask that Dr. Jorce the questions +you should have done. Go up to London now, +Lucian, see him at Hampstead, and find out if Ferruci +was at his house at eight o'clock on Christmas +Eve. Then I shall believe him guiltless; till then, +I hold him but the creature and tool of Lydia."</p> + +<p>"Jorce declares that Ferruci was with him at the +house when the murder was committed?"</p> + +<p>"Can you believe that? Ferruci may have made +it worth the while of this doctor to lie. And even +granting that much, the presence of Ferruci at the +Jersey Street house shows that he knew what was +going to take place on that night, and perhaps arranged +with another man to do the deed. Either +way you look at it, he and Lydia are implicated."</p> + +<p>"I tell you it is impossible, Diana," said Lucian, +finding it vain to combat this persistent belief. "All +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>this plotting of crime is such as is found in novels, +not in real life——"</p> + +<p>"In real life," cried Diana, taking the words out +of his mouth, "more incredible things take place +than can be conceived by the most fantastic imagination +of an author. Look at this talk of ours—it +began with words of love and marriage speeches, +and it ends with a discussion of murder. But this +I say, Lucian, that if you love me, and would have +me marry you, you must find out the truth of these +matters. Learn if this dead man is my father—for +from what you have told me of the lost finger I +do not believe that he is. Hunt down the assassin, +and discover if he is whom I believe him to be—Ferruci +himself; and learn, if you can, what Lydia +has to do with all these evil matters. Do this, and +I am yours. Refuse, and I shall not marry you!"</p> + +<p>"You set me a hard task," said Lucian, with a +sigh, "and I hardly know how to set about it."</p> + +<p>"Be guided by me," replied Diana. "Go up to +London and put an advertisement in the papers offering +a reward for the discovery of my father. +He is of medium height, with grey hair, and has a +clean-shaven face, with a scar on it——"</p> + +<p>"You describe the dead man, Diana."</p> + +<p>"But he has not lost a finger," continued Diana, +as though she had not heard him. "If my father, +for fear of Lydia, is in hiding, he will come to you +or me in answer to that advertisement."</p> + +<p>"But he must have seen the report of his death +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>by violence in the papers, if indeed he is alive," +urged Lucian, at his wit's end.</p> + +<p>"My father is weak in the head, and perhaps +was afraid to come out in the midst of such trouble. +But if you put in the advertisement that I—his +daughter—am in England, he will come to me, for +with me he knows he is safe. Also call on Dr. +Jorce, and find out the truth about Signor Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"Then when you have done these two things we +shall see what will come of them. Promise me to +do what I ask you."</p> + +<p>"I promise," said Lucian, taking her hand, "but +you send me on a wild-goose chase."</p> + +<p>"That may be, Lucian, but my heart—my presentiment—my—instinct—whatever +you like to call +it—tells me otherwise. Now let us go inside."</p> + +<p>"Shall we tell Miss Barbar of our engagement?" +asked Denzil timidly.</p> + +<p>"No; you will tell no one of that until we learn +the truth of this conspiracy. When we do, Lucian, +you will find that my father is not dead but is alive, +and will be at our wedding."</p> + +<p>"I doubt it—I doubt it."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it," answered Diana, and slipping +her hand within the arm of her lover she walked +with him up to the house. It was the strangest of +wooings.</p> + +<p>Miss Barbar, with a true woman's interest in love +affairs, was inclined to congratulate them both when +they entered, deeming—as the chance had been so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>propitious—that Lucian had proposed. But Diana +looked so stern, and Lucian so gloomy, that she held +her peace.</p> + +<p>Later on, when her curiosity got the better of +her desire not to offend her pupil, she asked if Denzil +had spoken.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Diana, "he has spoken."</p> + +<p>"And you have refused him?" cried the old lady +in dismay, for she did not relish the idea that Lucian +should have lost by her counsel.</p> + +<p>"No; I have not refused him."</p> + +<p>"Then you have said 'yes,' my dear!"</p> + +<p>"I have said sufficient," replied Diana cautiously. +"Please do not question me any further, Miss Barbar. +Lucian and I understand one another very +well."</p> + +<p>"She calls him by his Christian name," thought +the wise old dame, "that is well. She will not speak +of her happiness, that is ill," and in various crafty +ways Miss Barbar tried to learn how matters actually +stood between the pair.</p> + +<p>But if she was skilful in asking questions, Diana +was equally skilful in baffling them, and Miss Barbar +learned nothing more than her pupil chose to +tell her, and that was little enough. To perplex her +still further, Lucian departed for London the next +day, with a rather disconsolate look on his handsome +face, and gave his adviser no very satisfactory +explanation at parting.</p> + +<p>So Miss Barbar was forced to remain in ignorance +of the success or failure of her counsel, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>could by no means discover if the marriage she was +so anxious to bring about was likely to take place. +And so ended Denzil's visit to Berwin Manor.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Lucian went back to London +with a heavy heart, for he did not see how he was +to set about the task imposed on him by Diana. +At first he thought it would be best to advertise, +as she advised, but this he considered would do no +good, as if Vrain—supposing him to be alive and +in hiding—would not come out at the false report +of his murder, he certainly would not appear in answer +to an advertisement that might be a snare.</p> + +<p>Then Lucian wondered if it would be possible +to have the grave opened a second time that Diana +might truly see if the corpse was that of her father +or of another man. But this also was impossible, +and—to speak plainly—useless, for by this time the +body would not be recognisable; therefore, it would +be of little use to exhume the poor dead man, whomsoever +he might be, for the second time. Finally, +Lucian judged it would be wisest of all to call on +Dr. Jorce, and find out why he was friendly with +Ferruci, and how much he knew of the Italian's +doings.</p> + +<p>While the barrister was making up his mind to +this course he was surprised to receive a visit from +no less a person than Mr. Jabez Clyne, the father +of Lydia.</p> + +<p>The little man, usually so bright and merry, now +looked worried and ill at ease. Lucian—so much +as he had seen of him—had always liked him better +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>than Lydia, and was sorry to see him so downcast. +Nor when he learned the reason was he better +pleased. Clyne told it to him in a roundabout +way.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything against Signor Ferruci?" +he asked, when the first greetings were over.</p> + +<p>"Very little, and that bad," replied Denzil +shortly.</p> + +<p>"Do you refer to the horrible death of my son-in-law?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, Mr. Clyne. I believe Ferruci had a +hand in it, and if you bring him here I'll tell him +so."</p> + +<p>"Can you prove it?" asked Clyne eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No. As yet, Ferruci has proved that he was +not in Geneva Square on the night of the crime—or +rather," added Lucian, correcting himself, "at +the hour when the murder was committed."</p> + +<p>Clyne's face fell. "I wish you could discover if +he is guilty or not," he said. "I am anxious to +know the truth."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Lucian bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Because if he is guilty, I don't want my daughter +to marry a murderer."</p> + +<p>"What! Is Mrs. Vrain going to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the little man disconsolately, "and I +wish she wasn't."</p> + +<p>"So do I—for her own sake. I thought she did +not like him. She said as much to me."</p> + +<p>"I can't make her out, Mr. Denzil. She grew +tired of him for a time, but now she has taken up +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>with him again, and nothing I can say or do will +stop the marriage. I love Lydia beyond words, as +she is my only child, and I don't want to see her +married to a man of doubtful reputation like Ferruci. +So I thought I'd call and see if you could +help me."</p> + +<p>"I can't," replied Lucian. "As yet I have found +out nothing likely to implicate Ferruci in the +crime."</p> + +<p>"But you may," said Clyne hopefully.</p> + +<p>Lucian shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"If I do, you shall know at once," he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>LUCIAN IS SURPRISED</h3> + + +<p>Although Denzil received Mr. Clyne with all +courtesy, and promised to aid him, if he could, in +breaking off the marriage with Ferruci, by revealing +his true character to Mrs. Vrain, he by no +means made a confidant of the little man, or entrusted +him with the secret of his plans. Clyne, as +he well knew, was dominated in every way by his +astute daughter, and did he learn Lucian's intentions, +he was quite capable—through sheer weakness +of character—of revealing the same to Lydia, +who, in her turn—since she was bent upon marrying +Ferruci—might retail them to the Italian, and +so put him on his guard.</p> + +<p>Denzil, therefore, rid himself of the American +by promising to tell him, on some future occasion, +all that he knew about Ferruci. Satisfied with this, +Clyne departed in a more cheerful mood, and, apparently, +hoped for the best.</p> + +<p>After his departure, Lucian again began to consider +his idea of calling on Jorce regarding the alibi +of Ferruci. On further reflection he judged that, +before paying the visit to Hampstead, it might be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>judicious to see Rhoda again, and refresh his memory +in connection with the events of Christmas Eve. +With this idea he put on his hat, and shortly after +the departure of Clyne walked round to Jersey +Street.</p> + +<p>On ringing the bell, the door was opened by +Rhoda in person, looking sharper and more cunning +than ever. She informed him that he could +not see Mrs. Bensusan, as that good lady was in +bed with a cold.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to see your mistress, my girl," +said Lucian quickly, to stop Rhoda from shutting +the door in his face, which she seemed disposed to +do. "I desire to speak with you."</p> + +<p>"About that there murder?" asked Rhoda sharply. +Then in reply to the nod of Lucian she continued: +"I told you all I knew about it when you +called before. I don't know nothing more."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me the name of the dark man you +saw in the yard?"</p> + +<p>"No, I can't. I know nothing about him."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear Mr. Wrent mention his +name?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He called and he went, and I saw +him in the back yard at 8.30. I never spoke to +him, and he never spoke to me."</p> + +<p>"Could you swear to the man if you saw him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I could. Have you got him with you?" +asked Rhoda eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Not at present," answered Lucian, rather surprised +by the vindictive expression on the girl's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>face. "But later on I may call upon you to identify +him."</p> + +<p>"Do you know who he is?" asked the servant +quickly.</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Did he kill that man?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly," said Denzil, wondering at these very +pointed questions. "Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"I have my reasons, sir. Where is my cloak?"</p> + +<p>"I will return it later on; it will probably be +used as evidence."</p> + +<p>Rhoda started. "Where?" she demanded, with +a frown.</p> + +<p>"At the trial."</p> + +<p>"Do you think they'll hang the person who killed +Mr. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"If the police catch him, and his guilt is proved, +I am sure they will hang him."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes flashed with a wicked light, and +she clasped and unclasped her hands with a quick, +nervous movement. "I hope they will," she said +in a low, rapid voice. "I hope they will."</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Lucian, with a step forward. "Do +you know the assassin?"</p> + +<p>"No!" cried Rhoda, with much vehemence. "I +swear I don't, but I think the murderer ought to +be hanged. I know—I know—well, I know something—see +me to-morrow night, and you'll hear."</p> + +<p>"Hear what?"</p> + +<p>"The truth," said this strange girl, and shut the +door before Lucian could say another word.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>The barrister, quite dumbfounded, remained on +the step looking at the closed door. So important +were Rhoda's words that he was on the point of +ringing again, to interview her once more and force +her to speak. But when he reflected that Mrs. +Bensusan was in bed, and that Rhoda alone could +reopen the door—which from her late action it +was pretty evident she would not do—he decided to +retire for the present. It was little use to call +in the police, or create trouble by forcing his way +into the house, as that might induce Rhoda to run +away before giving her evidence. So Lucian departed, +with the intention of keeping the next +night's appointment, and hearing what Rhoda had +to say.</p> + +<p>"The truth," he repeated, as he walked along +the street. "Evidently she knows who killed this +man. If so, why did she not speak before, and why +is she so vindictive? Heavens! If Diana's belief +should be a true one, and her father not dead? Conspiracy! +murder! this gypsy girl, that subtle Italian, +and the mysterious Wrent! My head is in a whirl. +I cannot understand what it all means. To-morrow, +when Rhoda speaks, I may. But—can I trust her? +I doubt it. Still, there is nothing else for it. I +<i>must</i> trust her."</p> + +<p>Talking to himself in this incoherent way, Lucian +reached his rooms and tried to quiet the excitement +of his brain caused by the strange words of +Rhoda. It was yet early in the afternoon, so he +took up a book and threw himself on the sofa to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>read for an hour, but he found it quite impossible +to fix his attention on the page. The case in which +he was concerned was far more exciting than any +invention of the brain, and after a vain attempt to +banish it from his mind he jumped up and threw +the book aside.</p> + +<p>Although he did not know it, Lucian was suffering +from a sharp attack of detective fever, and the +only means of curing such a disease is to learn the +secret which haunts the imagination. Rhoda, as +she stated—rather ambiguously, it must be confessed—could +reveal this especial secret touching +the murder of Vrain; but, for some hidden reason, +chose to delay her confession for twenty-four hours. +Lucian, all on fire with curiosity, found himself unable +to bear this suspense, so to distract his mind +and learn, if possible, the true relationship existing +between Ferruci and Jorce, he set out for Hampstead +to interview the doctor.</p> + +<p>"The Haven," as Jorce, with some humour, +termed his private asylum, was a red brick house, +large, handsome, and commodious, built in a wooded +and secluded part of Hampstead. It was surrounded +by a high brick wall, over which the trees +of its park could be seen, and possessed a pair of +elaborate iron gates, opening on to a quiet country +lane. Externally, it looked merely the estate of +a gentleman.</p> + +<p>The grounds were large, and well laid out in +flower gardens and orchards; and as it was Dr. +Jorce's system to allow his least crazy patients as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>much liberty as possible, they roamed at will round +the grounds, giving the place a cheerful and populated +look. The more violent inmates were, of +course, secluded; but these were well and kindly +treated by the doctor. Indeed, Jorce was a very +humane man, and had a theory that more cures of +the unhappy beings under his charge could be effected +by kindness than by severity.</p> + +<p>His asylum was more like a private hotel with +paying guests than an establishment for the retention +of the insane, and even to an outside observer +the eccentricities of the doctor's family—as he loved +to call them—were not more marked than many of +the oddities possessed by people at large. Indeed, +Jorce was in the habit of saying that "There were +more mad people in the world than were kept under +lock and key," and in this he was doubtless +right. However, the kindly and judicious little +man was like a father to those under his charge, and +very popular with them all. Anything more unlike +the popular conception of an asylum than the establishment +at Hampstead can scarcely be imagined.</p> + +<p>When Lucian arrived at "The Haven," he found +that Jorce had long since returned from his holiday, +and was that day at home; so on sending in +his card he was at once admitted into the presence +of the local potentate. Jorce, looking smaller and +more like a fairy changeling than ever, was evidently +pleased to see Lucian, but a look on his dry, yellow +face indicated that he was somewhat puzzled to +account for the visit. However, preliminary greet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>ings +having passed, Lucian did not leave him long +in doubt.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Jorce," he said boldly, and without preamble, +"I have called to see you about that alibi +of Signor Ferruci's."</p> + +<p>"Alibi is a nasty word, Mr. Denzil," said Jorce, +looking sharply at his visitor.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, but it is the only word that can be +used with propriety."</p> + +<p>"But I thought that I was called on to decide +a bet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was Count Ferruci's clever way of putting it," +responded Lucian, with a sneer. "He did +not wish you to know too much about his business."</p> + +<p>"H'm! Perhaps I know more than you think, +Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, sir?" cried Lucian sharply.</p> + +<p>"Softly, Mr. Denzil, softly," rejoined the doctor, +waving his hand. "I shall explain everything +to your satisfaction. Do you know why I went to +Italy?"</p> + +<p>"No; no more than I know why you went with +Signor Ferruci," replied Lucian, recalling Link's +communication.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Jorce placidly, "you have been making +inquiries, I see. But you are wrong in one +particular. I did not go to Italy with Ferruci—I +left him in Paris, and I went on myself to Florence +to find out the true character of the man."</p> + +<p>"Why did you wish to do that, doctor?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>"Because I had some business with our mutual +friend, the Count, and I was not altogether pleased +with the way in which it was conducted. Also, my +last interview with you about that bet made me +suspicious of the man. Over in Florence I learned +sufficient about the Count to assure me that he is +a bad man, with whom it is as well to have as little +to do as possible. I intended to return at once +with this information and call on you, Mr. Denzil. +Unfortunately, I fell ill of an attack of typhoid +fever in Florence, and had to stay there these two +months."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," said Lucian, noting that the doctor +did look ill, "but why did you not send on your +information to me?"</p> + +<p>"It was necessary to see you personally, Mr. Denzil. +I arrived back a few days ago, and intended +writing to you when I recovered from the fatigue +of the journey. However, your arrival saves me +the trouble. Now I can tell you all about Ferruci, +if you like."</p> + +<p>"Then tell me, Doctor, if you spoke truly about +that alibi?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did. Count Ferruci was with me that +night, and stayed here until the next morning."</p> + +<p>"What time did he arrive?"</p> + +<p>"About ten o'clock, or, to be precise," said Jorce, +"about ten-thirty."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Lucian exultantly, "then Ferruci +must have been the man in the back yard!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>"What do you mean by that?" asked Jorce in +a puzzled tone.</p> + +<p>"Why, that Count Ferruci has had to do with a +crime committed some months ago in Pimlico. A +man called Mark Vrain was murdered, as you may +have seen in the papers, Doctor, and I believe +Ferruci murdered him."</p> + +<p>"If I remember rightly," said Jorce with calmness, +"the man in question was murdered shortly +before midnight on Christmas Eve. If that is so, +Ferruci could not have killed him, because, as I +said before, he was here at half-past ten on that +night."</p> + +<p>"I don't say he actually killed the man," explained +Lucian eagerly, "but he certainly employed +some one to strike the blow, else what was he doing +in the Jersey Street yard on that night? You can +say what you like, Dr. Jorce, but that man is guilty +of Mark Vrain's death."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Jorce coolly, "he's not, for the +simple reason that Vrain is not dead."</p> + +<p>"Not dead?" repeated Lucian, recalling Diana's +belief.</p> + +<p>"No! For the last few months Mark Vrain, under +the name of Michael Clear, has been in this +asylum!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>A DARK PLOT</h3> + + +<p>"So Vrain is alive, after all!" was Lucian's comment +on the speech of Jorce, "and he is here under +your charge? Jove! it's wonderful! Diana was +right, after all!"</p> + +<p>"Diana? Who is Diana?" queried Jorce, then +held up his hand to stop his visitor from replying. +"Wait! I know! Vrain mentioned his daughter +Diana."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is the daughter of Vrain, and she believes +her father to be alive."</p> + +<p>"On what grounds?"</p> + +<p>"Because the dead man, whom, until lately, she +believed to be Mr. Vrain, had one of his little +fingers missing. That fact came to her knowledge +only a week ago. When it did, she declared that +the deceased could not be her father."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Jorce thoughtfully, "I am quite in +the dark as to why Mr. Vrain was put under my +charge."</p> + +<p>"Because Ferruci wished to marry his widow."</p> + +<p>"I see! Ferruci substituted another man for my +patient and had him killed."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>"Evidently," replied Lucian; "but I am almost +as much in the dark as you are, Dr. Jorce. Tell me +how Vrain came to be placed here, and, exchanging +confidence for confidence, I'll let you know all I +have discovered since the death of the man in Geneva +Square who called himself Berwin."</p> + +<p>"That is a fair offer," replied Jorce, clearing his +throat, "and one which I willingly accept. I do not +wish you to think that I am in league with Signor +Ferruci. What I did was done honestly. I am not +afraid of telling my story."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of that," said Lucian heartily. "I +guessed that Ferruci had not trusted you altogether, +from the time he feigned that your evidence was +needed only to decide a bet."</p> + +<p>"Trust me!" echoed Jorce, with scorn. "He never +trusted me at all. He is too cunning for that. +However, you shall hear."</p> + +<p>"I'm all attention, Doctor."</p> + +<p>"A week before last Christmas, Signor Ferruci +called to see me, and explained that he was interested +in a gentleman called Michael Clear, whom he +had met some years before in Italy. Clear, he said, +had been most intimate with him, but later on had +indulged so much in the morphia habit that their +friendship had terminated with high words. Afterwards, +Clear had returned to England, and Ferruci +lost sight of him for some months. Then he visited +England, and one day found Clear in the street, +looking ill and wretched. The man had become a +confirmed morphiamaniac, and the habit had weak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>ened +his brain. The Count pitied the poor creature, +according to his own story, and took him to his +home, the whereabouts of which Clear was happily +able to remember."</p> + +<p>"Where is the house?" asked Lucian, taking out +his pocketbook.</p> + +<p>"Number 30, St. Bertha's Road, Bayswater," +replied Jorce; and when the barrister, for his private +information, had made a note of the address, +he continued: "It then appeared that Clear was +married. The wife told Ferruci that she was afraid +of her husband, who, in his fits of drink—for he +drank likewise—often threatened to kill her. They +had lost their money, and the poor woman was at +her wit's end what to do. Ferruci explained to me +that out of friendship he was most anxious to befriend +Clear, and stated that Mrs. Clear wished +to get her husband cured. He proposed, therefore, +to put Clear into my asylum, and pay on behalf of +the wife."</p> + +<p>"A very ingenious and plausible plan," said Lucian. +"Well, Doctor, and what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I agreed, of course, provided the man was certified +insane in the usual way. Ferruci then departed, +promising to bring Mrs. Clear to see me. +He brought her late on Christmas Eve, at ten—"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" interrupted Lucian, "did she wear a black +gauze veil with velvet spots?"</p> + +<p>"She did, Mr. Denzil. Have you met her?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I have heard of her. She was the +woman who visited Wrent in Jersey Street. No +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>doubt Ferruci was waiting for her in the back +yard."</p> + +<p>"Who is Wrent?" asked Jorce, looking puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know the name, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Did Mrs. Clear never mention it?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Nor Ferruci?"</p> + +<p>"No. I never heard the name before," replied +Jorce complacently.</p> + +<p>"Strange!" said Denzil reflectively. "Yet Wrent +seems to be at the bottom of the whole plot. Well, +never mind, just now. Please continue, my dear +Doctor. What did Mrs. Clear say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she repeated Ferruci's story, amplified in +a feminine fashion. She was afraid of Michael, +who, when excited with morphia or drink, would +snatch up a knife to attempt her life. Twice she +had disarmed him, and now she was tired and +frightened. She was willing for him to go into my +asylum since Count Ferruci had so kindly consented +to bear the expense, but she wished to give him one +more chance. Then, as it was late, she stayed here +all night. So did the Count, and on Christmas Day +they went away."</p> + +<p>"When did they come back?"</p> + +<p>"About a fortnight later, and they brought with +them the man they both called Michael Clear."</p> + +<p>"What is he like?"</p> + +<p>"An old man with a white beard."</p> + +<p>"Is he mad?" asked Lucian bluntly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p><p>"He is not mad now, only weak in the head," +replied Jorce professionally, "but he was certainly +mad when he arrived. The man's brain is wrecked +by morphia."</p> + +<p>"Not by drink?"</p> + +<p>"No; although it suited Mrs. Clear and Ferruci +to say so. But Clear, as I may call him, was very +violent, and quite justified Mrs. Clear's desire to +sequester him. She told me that he often imagined +himself to be other people. Sometimes he would +feign to be Napoleon; again the Pope; so when +he, a week after he was in the asylum, insisted +that he was Mark Vrain, I put it down to his delusion."</p> + +<p>"But how could you think he had come by the +name, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, at that time the papers were full +of the case and its mystery, and as we have a reading-room +in this asylum, I fancied that Clear had +seen the accounts, and had, as a delusion, called +himself Vrain. Afterwards he fell into a kind of +comatose state, and for weeks said very little. He +was most abject and frightened, and responded in +a timid sort of way to the name of Clear. Naturally +this confirmed me in my belief that his calling +himself Vrain was a delusion. Then he grew better, +and one day told me that his name was Vrain. +Of course, I did not believe him. Still, he was so +persistent about the matter that I thought there +might be something in it, and spoke to Ferruci."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p><p>"He denied that the man's name was anything +but Clear. That the wife and two doctors—for +the poor soul had been duly certified as insane—had +put him into the asylum; and altogether persisted +so strongly in his original story that I thought +it was absurd to put a crazy man's delusion against +a sane man's tale. Besides, everything regarding +the certificate and sequestrating of Clear had been +quite legal. Two doctors—and very rightly, too—had +certified to the insanity of the man; and his +wife—as I then believed Mrs. Clear to be—had +consented to his detention."</p> + +<p>"What made you suspicious that there might be +something wrong?" asked Lucian eagerly.</p> + +<p>"My visit to meet you, at Ferruci's request, to +prove the alibi," responded Jorce. "I thought it +was strange, and afterwards, when a detective +named Mr. Link, called, I thought it was stranger +still."</p> + +<p>"But you did not see Link?"</p> + +<p>"No. I was in Italy then, but I heard of his +visit. In Florence I heard from a most accomplished +gossip the whole story of Mr. Vrain's marriage and +the prior engagement of Mrs. Vrain to Ferruci. I +guessed that there might be some plot, but I could +not quite understand how it was carried out, save +that Vrain—as I then began to believe Clear to be—had +been placed in my asylum under a false name. +On my return I intended to see you, when I was +laid up in Florence with the fever. Now, however, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>that we have met, tell me so much of the story as +you know. Afterwards we shall see Mr. Vrain."</p> + +<p>Lucian was willing enough to show his confidence +in Jorce, the more so as he needed his help. +Forthwith he told him all he knew, from the time +he had met Michael Clear, <i>alias</i> Mark Berwin, <i>alias</i> +Mark Vrain, in Geneva Square, down to the moment +he had presented himself for information at +the gates of "The Haven." Doctor Jorce listened +with the greatest attention, his little face puckered +up into a grim smile, and shook his head when the +barrister ended his recital.</p> + +<p>"A bad world, Mr. Denzil, a bad world!" he +said, rising. "Come with me, and I'll take you to +see my patient."</p> + +<p>"But what do you think of it all?" said Denzil, +eager for some comment.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you that," rejoined Jorce, "when you +have heard the story of Mr. Vrain."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Lucian was led by his guide +into a pleasant room, with French windows opening +on to a wide verandah, and a sunny lawn set +round with flowers. Books were arranged on shelves +round the walls, newspapers and magazines were +on the table, and near the window, in a comfortable +chair, sat an old man with a volume in his hand. +As Jorce entered he stood up and shuffled forward +with a senile smile of delight. Evidently—and +with reason, poor soul—he considered the doctor +his very good friend.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>"Well, well!" said the cheery Jorce, "and how +are you to-day, Mr. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"I feel very well," replied Vrain in a soft, weak +voice. "Who is this, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"A young friend of mine, Mr. Vrain. He wishes +to hear your story."</p> + +<p>"Alas! alas!" sighed Vrain, his eyes filling with +tears, "a sad story, sir."</p> + +<p>The father of Diana was of middle height, with +white hair, and a long white beard which swept his +chest. On his cheek Lucian saw the cicatrice of +which Diana had spoken, and mainly by which the +dead man had been falsely identified as Vrain. He +was very like Clear in figure and manner; but, of +course, the resemblance in the face was not very +close, as Clear had been clean shaven, whereas the +real Vrain wore a beard. The eyes were dim and +weak-looking, and altogether Lucian saw that Vrain +was not fitted to battle with the world in any way, +and quite weak enough to become the prey of villains, +as had been his sad fate.</p> + +<p>"My name is Mark Vrain, young sir," said he, +beginning his story without further preamble. "I +lived in Berwin Manor, Bath, with my wife Lydia, +but she treated me badly by letting another man +love her, and I left her. Oh, yes, sir, I left her. I +went away to Salisbury, and was very happy there +with my books, but, alas! I took morph——"</p> + +<p>"Vrain!" said Jorce, holding up his finger, "no!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," said the old man, with +a watery smile, "I mean I was very happy there. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>But Signor Ferruci, a black-hearted villain"—his +face grew dark as he mentioned the name—"found +me out and made me come with him to London. +He kept me there for months, and then he brought +me here."</p> + +<p>"Kept you where, Mr. Vrain?" asked Lucian +gently.</p> + +<p>The old man looked at him with a vacant eye. +"I don't know," he said in a dull voice.</p> + +<p>"You came here from Bayswater," hinted Jorce.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Bayswater!" cried Vrain, growing excited. +"I was there with a woman they called my +wife. She was not my wife! My wife is fair, this +woman was dark. Her name was Maud Clear: +my wife's name is Lydia."</p> + +<p>"Did Mrs. Clear say you were her husband, +Michael?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She called me Michael Clear, and brought +me to stay with the doctor. But I am not Michael +Clear!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE OTHER MAN'S WIFE</h3> + + +<p>As soon as Lucian arrived back in his rooms he +sat down at his desk and wrote a long letter to +Diana, giving a full account of his extraordinary +discovery of her father in Jorce's asylum, and advising +her to come up at once to London.</p> + +<p>When he posted this—which he did the same +night—he sighed to think it was not a love letter. +He could have covered reams of paper with words +of passion and adoration; he could have poured out +his whole soul at the feet of his divinity, telling her +of his love, his aspirations, his hopes and fears. +No doubt, from a common-sense view, the letter +would have been silly enough, but it would have +relieved his mind and completed his happiness of +knowing that he loved and was beloved.</p> + +<p>But in place of writing thus, he was compelled +by his promise to Diana to pen a description of +his late discovery, and interesting as the case was +now growing, he found it irksome to detail the incident +of the afternoon. He wished to be a lover, +not a detective.</p> + +<p>So absent-minded and distraught was Lucian, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>that Miss Greeb, who had long suspected something +was wrong with him, spoke that very evening +about himself. She declared that Lucian was working +too hard, that he needed another rest, although +he had just returned from the country, and recommended +a sleeping draught. Finally she produced +a letter which had just arrived, and as it was in a +female hand, Miss Greeb watched its effect on her +admired lodger with the keen eyes of a jealous +woman. When she saw him flush and seize it eagerly, +casting, meanwhile, an impatient look on her +to leave the room, she knew the truth at once, and +retired hurriedly to the kitchen, where she shed +floods of tears.</p> + +<p>"I might have guessed it," gasped Miss Greeb +to a comfortable cat which lay selfishly before the +fire. "He's far too good-looking not to be snapped +up. He'll be leaving me and setting up house with +that other woman. I only hope she'll do for him as +well as I have done. I wonder if she's beautiful +and rich. Oh, how dreadful it all is!" But the +cat made no comment on this tearful address—not +as much as a mew. It rolled over into a warmer +place and went to sleep again. Cats are particularly +selfish animals.</p> + +<p>Two days afterwards Miss Greeb opened the +door to a tall and beautiful lady, who asked for +Mr. Denzil, and was shown into his sitting-room. +With keen instinct, Miss Greeb decided that this +was the woman who had taken possession of Lucian's +heart, and being a just little creature, in spite +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>of her jealousy, was obliged to admit that the visitor +was as handsome as a picture. Then, seeing that +there was no chance for her beside this splendid +lady, she consoled herself with a dismal little proverb, +and looked forward to the time when it would +be necessary to put a ticket in the parlour window. +Meanwhile, to have some one on whose bosom she +could weep, Miss Greeb went round to see Mrs. +Bensusan, leaving Diana in possession of Lucian, +and the cat sole occupant of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room, on the front floor, Diana, +with her eyes shining like two stars, was talking to +Lucian. She had come up at once on receipt of +his letter; she had been to Hampstead, she had +seen her father, and now she was telling Lucian +about the visit.</p> + +<p>"He knew me at once, poor dear," she said rapidly, +"and asked me if I had been out, just as if +I'd left the house for a visit and come back. Ah!"—she +shook her head and sighed—"I am afraid +he'll never be quite himself again."</p> + +<p>"What does Jorce think?"</p> + +<p>"He says that father can be discharged as cured, +and is going to see about it for me. Of course, +he will never be quite sane, but he will never be +violent so long as morphia and drugs of that sort +are kept from him. As soon as he is discharged I +shall take him back to Bath, and put him in charge +of Miss Barbar; then I shall return to town, and +we must expose the whole conspiracy!"</p> + +<p>"Conspiracy?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> +<p>"What else do you call it, Lucian? That woman +and Ferruci have planned and carried it out between +them. They put my father into the asylum, +and made another man pass as him, in order to get +the assurance money. As their tool did not die +quickly enough, they killed him."</p> + +<p>"No, Diana. Both Lydia and Ferruci have +proved beyond all doubt that they were not in Pimlico +at the hour of the death. I believe they contrived +this conspiracy, but I don't believe they murdered +Clear."</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall see what defence they make. But +one thing is certain, Lucian—Lydia will have to +disgorge the assurance money."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she certainly will, and I've no doubt the +Assurance Company will prosecute her for fraud +in obtaining it. I shall see Ferruci to-morrow and +force him to confess his putting your father in the +asylum."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Diana, shaking her head. "Don't +do that until you have more evidence against him."</p> + +<p>"I think the evidence of Jorce is strong enough. +I suppose you mean the evidence of Mrs. Clear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; although for her own sake I don't suppose +she will speak."</p> + +<p>Lucian nodded. "I thought of that also," he +said, "and yesterday I went to St. Bertha Street, +Bayswater, to see her. But I found that she had +moved, and no one knew where she was. I expect, +having received her price for the conspiracy, she +has left London. However, I put an advertise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>ment +in the papers, saying if she called on me here +she would hear of something to her advantage. It +is in the papers this morning."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if she will call," said Diana seriously. +"What about the promised revelation of Rhoda?"</p> + +<p>"I believe that girl is deceiving me," cried Lucian +angrily. "I went round to Jersey Street, as she +asked me, and only saw Mrs. Bensusan, who said +that Rhoda was out and would not be back for some +time. Then I had to wait for you here and tell +you all about your father, so the thing slipped my +memory. I have not been near the place since, but +I'll go round there to-night. Whatever is Miss +Greeb thinking of?" cried Lucian, breaking off +quickly. "That front door bell has been ringing +for at least five minutes!"</p> + +<p>To Diana's amusement, Lucian went and shouted +down the stairs to Miss Greeb, but as no reply +came, and the bell was still ringing furiously, he +was obliged to open the door himself. On the step +there stood a little woman in a tailor-made brown +frock, a plainly trimmed brown straw hat with a +black gauze velvet-spotted veil. At once Denzil +guessed who she was.</p> + +<p>"You are Mrs. Clear?" he said, delighted that +she had replied so quickly to his advertisement, for +it had only that morning appeared in the newspapers.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," answered the woman, in a quick, +sharp voice. "Are you the L. D. who advertised +for me?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p><p>"Yes. Come upstairs. I have much to say to you."</p> + +<p>"Diana," said Lucian, on entering the room with +his prize, "let me introduce you to Mrs. Clear."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Clear! Are you the wife of the man who +was murdered in the house opposite?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clear uttered a cry of astonishment, and +turned as if to retreat. But Denzil was between her +and the door, so she saw that there was nothing +for it but to outface the situation. As though she +found it difficult to breathe, she threw up her veil, +and Diana beheld a thin white face with two brilliant +black eyes.</p> + +<p>"This is a trap," said Mrs. Clear, hoarsely, looking +from the one to the other. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I," said Lucian, politely, "I am the man who +met your husband before——"</p> + +<p>"My husband! I have my husband in an asylum. +You can't have met him!"</p> + +<p>"You are telling a falsehood," said Diana fiercely. +"The gentleman in the asylum of Dr. Jorce is +not your husband, but my father!"</p> + +<p>"Your father? And who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am Diana Vrain."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clear gave a screech, and dropped back on +to the sofa, staring at Diana with wide-open and +terrified eyes.</p> + +<p>"And now, Mrs. Clear, I see you realise the situation," +Lucian said coldly. "You must confess your +share in this conspiracy."</p> + +<p>"What conspiracy?" she interrupted furiously.</p> + +<p>"The putting of Mr. Vrain into an asylum, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>the passing off of your husband, Michael Clear, as +him."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it."</p> + +<p>"Come, now, you talk nonsense! If you refuse +to speak I'll have you arrested at once."</p> + +<p>"Arrest me!" She bounded off the sofa with +flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, on a charge of conspiracy. It is no use +your getting angry, Mrs. Clear, for it won't improve +your position. We—that is, this lady and +myself—wish to know, firstly, how your husband +came to be masquerading as Mr. Vrain; secondly, +where we can find the man called Wrent, who employed +your husband; and thirdly, Mrs. Clear, we +wish to know, and the law wishes to know, who +killed your husband."</p> + +<p>"I don't know who killed him," said the woman, +looking rather afraid, "but I believe Wrent did."</p> + +<p>"Who is Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You don't know many things," said Diana, taking +part in the conversation, "but you must tell +us what you do know, otherwise I shall call in a +policeman and have you arrested."</p> + +<p>"You can't prove anything against me."</p> + +<p>"I think I can," said Lucian in the most cheerful +manner. "I can prove that you were in No. 13 +of this Square, seeing your husband, for I found +on the fence dividing the back yard of that house +from one in Jersey Street a scrap of a veil such +as you wear. Also the landlady and servant can +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>prove that you called on Mr. Wrent several times, +and were with him on the night of the murder. Then +there is the evidence of your cloak, which you left +behind, and which Wrent gave to the servant +Rhoda. Also the evidence of Signor Ferruci——"</p> + +<p>"Ferruci! What has he said about me?"</p> + +<p>Lucian saw that revenge might make the woman +speak, so he lied in the calmest manner to get at +the truth. "Ferruci says that he contrived the +whole conspiracy."</p> + +<p>"So he did," said Mrs. Clear, with a nod.</p> + +<p>"And took you to 'The Haven,' at Hampstead, +on Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p>"That's true. He took me from Wrent's house +in Jersey Street. You need not go on, Mr. L. D. +I admit the whole business."</p> + +<p>"You do?" cried Lucian and Diana together.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if only to spite that old villain Wrent, who +has not paid me the money he promised."</p> + +<p>Before Lucian and Miss Vrain could express +their pleasure at Mrs. Clear coming to this sensible +conclusion, the door opened suddenly, and little +Miss Greeb, in a wonderful state of agitation, +tripped in.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Denzil! I've just been to Mrs. Bensusan's, +and Rhoda's run away!"</p> + +<p>"Run away!"</p> + +<p>"Yes! She hasn't been back all day, and left a +note for Mrs. Bensusan saying she was going to +hide, because she was afraid."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>A CONFESSION</h3> + + +<p>Now, indeed, Lucian had his hands full. Rhoda, +the red-headed servant of Mrs. Bensusan, had run +away on the plea that she was afraid of something—what +she did not explain in the note she left behind +her, and it was necessary that she should be +discovered, and forced into confessing what she +knew of the conspiracy and murder. Mrs. Clear, +not having been paid her hush money, had betrayed +the confidence and misdeeds of Ferruci, thereby revealing +an extent of villainy for which neither +Diana nor Lucian was prepared. Now the Count +had to be seen and brought to book for his doings, +Lydia informed that her husband was in the asylum, +and Vrain himself had to be released in due +form from his legal imprisonment. How Lucian, +even with the assistance of Diana, could deal with +all these matters, he did not know.</p> + +<p>"Why not see Mr. Link?" suggested Diana, +when Mrs. Clear had departed, after making a +clean breast of the nefarious transactions in which +she had been involved. "He may take the case +in hand again."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," responded Denzil drily, "but I am +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>not very keen to hand it over to him, seeing that he +has abandoned it twice. Again, if I call in the police, +it is all over with Lydia and the Count. They +will be arrested and punished."</p> + +<p>"For the murder of Clear?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, if it can be proved that they have +anything to do with it; certainly for the conspiracy +to get the assurance money by the feigned death of +your father."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Diana coldly, "and why should they +not receive the reward of their deeds?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so; but the question is, do you wish any +scandal?"</p> + +<p>Diana was silent. She had not looked at the +matter from this point of view. It was true what +Lucian said. If the police took up the case again, +Lydia and her accomplice would be arrested, and +the whole sordid story of their doings would be in +the papers.</p> + +<p>Diana was a proud woman, and winced at the +idea of such publicity. It would be as well to avoid +proceeding to such extremities. If the assurance +money was returned by Lydia, she would be reduced +to her former estate, and by timely flight +might escape the vengeance of the defrauded company. +After all, she was the wife of Vrain, and +little as Diana liked her, she did not wish to see +the woman who was so closely related to the +wronged man put in prison; not for her own sake, +but for the sake of the name she so unworthily +bore.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I leave it in your hands," said Diana to Lucian, +who was watching her closely.</p> + +<p>"Very good," replied Denzil. "Then I think it +will be best for me to see Ferruci first, and hear +his confession; afterwards call on Mrs. Vrain, and +learn what she has to say. Then——"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Diana, curiously, "what then?"</p> + +<p>"I will be guided by circumstances. In the meantime, +for the sake of your name, we had better keep +the matter as quiet as possible."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Clear may speak out."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Clear won't speak," said Denzil grimly. +"She will keep quiet for her own sake; and as +Rhoda has left Jersey Street, there will be no danger +of trouble from that quarter. First, I'll see +Lydia and the Count, to get to the bottom of this +conspiracy; then I'll set the police on Rhoda's track, +that she may be arrested and made to confess her +knowledge of the murder."</p> + +<p>"Do you think she knows anything?"</p> + +<p>"I think she knows everything," replied Lucian +with emphasis. "That is why she has run away. +If we capture her, and force her to speak, we may +be able to arrest Wrent."</p> + +<p>"Why Wrent?" asked Diana.</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten what Mrs. Clear said? I +agree with her that he is the assassin, although we +can't prove it as yet."</p> + +<p>"But who is Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Lucian, significantly, "that is just +what I wish to find out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>The upshot of this interview was that early the +next morning Denzil went to the chambers of Ferruci, +in Marquis Street, and informed the servant +that he wanted particularly to see the Count.</p> + +<p>At first the Italian, being still in bed—for he +was a late riser—did not incline to grant his visitor +an interview; but on second thoughts he ordered +Lucian to be shown into the sitting-room, and shortly +afterwards joined him there wrapped in a dressing-gown. +He welcomed the barrister with a smiling nod, +and having some instinct that Lucian came +on an unpleasant errand, he did not offer him his +hand. From the first the two men were on their +guard against one another.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, sir," said Ferruci in his best +English. "May I ask why you take me from my +bed so early?"</p> + +<p>"To tell you a story."</p> + +<p>"About my friend Dr. Jorce saying I was with +him on that night?" sneered the Count.</p> + +<p>"Partly, and partly about a lady you know."</p> + +<p>Ferruci frowned. "You speak of Mrs. Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Lucian coolly. "I speak of Mrs. +Clear."</p> + +<p>At the mention of this name, which was the last +one he expected to hear his visitor pronounce, the +Italian, in spite of his coolness and cunning, could +not forbear a start.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Clear?" he repeated. "And what do you +know of Mrs. Clear?"</p> + +<p>"As much as Dr. Jorce could tell me, Count."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>Ferruci's brow cleared. "Then you know I pay +for keeping her miserable husband with my friend," +he said composedly. "It is for her sake I am so +kind."</p> + +<p>"Rather it is for your own you are so cunning."</p> + +<p>"Cunning! A most strange word for my goodness," +said the Count coolly.</p> + +<p>"The most fit word, you mean," replied Lucian, +impatient of this fencing. "It is no use beating +about the bush, Count. I know that the man you +keep in the asylum is not Clear, but Mark Vrain."</p> + +<p>"La! la! la! You talk great humbug. Mr. +Vrain is dead and buried!"</p> + +<p>"He is not dead," answered Lucian resolutely, +"and the man who was buried under his name is +Michael Clear, the husband of the woman who told +me all."</p> + +<p>Ferruci, who had been pacing impatiently up and +down the room, stopped short, with a nervous +laugh.</p> + +<p>"This is most amusing," he said, with an emotion +he could not conceal despite his self-control. +"Mrs. Clear told you all, eh? She told you what, +my friend?"</p> + +<p>"That is the story I have come to tell you," replied +Lucian sharply.</p> + +<p>"Very good," said Ferruci, with a shrug. "I +wait to hear this pretty story," and with a frown +he threw himself into a chair near Lucian. Apparently +he saw that he was found out, for it took +him all his time to keep his voice from trembling +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>and his hands from shaking. The man was not a +coward, but being thus brought face to face with +a peril he little expected, it was scarcely to be wondered +at that he felt shaken and nervous. Moreover, +he knew little about the English law, and +hardly guessed how his misdeeds would be punished. +Still, he did not surrender on the spot, but +listened quietly to Lucian's story, in the hope of +seeing some way of escape from his awkward position.</p> + +<p>"The other day I went to Dr. Jorce's asylum," +said Lucian slowly, "and there I discovered—it +matters not how—that your friend Clear was Mr. +Vrain; also I learned that he had been placed in +the asylum by you and Mrs. Clear. Jorce gave me +her address in Bayswater, but when I went there +I could not find her; she had left. I then put an +advertisement in all the papers, stating that if she +called on me she would hear of something to her +advantage. Now, Count, it appears that Mrs. Clear +was in the habit of looking into the papers to see +if there was any message from yourself, or your +friend Wrent, so she saw my advertisement at once, +and came in person to reply to it."</p> + +<p>"One moment, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci politely. +"I know no one called Wrent, and he is +not my friend."</p> + +<p>"We'll come to that hereafter," answered Lucian, +with a shrug. "In the meantime I'll proceed +with my story, which I see interests you very much. +Well, Count, it seems that Michael Clear was an +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>actor, who bore a strong resemblance to Mr. Vrain, +save that he had not a scar on his face. Vrain, at +Bath, was always clean shaven; now he wears a long +white beard, but that is neither here nor there. Clear +had a moustache, but when that was shaved off he +looked exactly like Vrain. For purposes of your +own, which you can easily guess, you made the acquaintance +of this man, a profligate and a drunkard, +and proposed, for a certain sum of money to be paid +to his wife, that he, Michael Clear, should personate +Vrain and live in the Silent House in Geneva +Square, under the name of Berwin. You knew +that Clear was slowly dying of consumption and +drink, so you trusted that he would die as Vrain; +that Mrs. Vrain—who I believe is in the plot—would +recognise the corpse by the description in +the newspapers; and that, when Clear was buried +as Vrain, she would get the assurance money and +marry you."</p> + +<p>"That is clever," said the Count, with a sneer.</p> + +<p>"But is it true?"</p> + +<p>"You know best," answered Lucian, coolly. +"However, all turned out as you expected, for Clear +died as Vrain—or rather was murdered at your +command, as he did not die quickly enough—his +body was recognised by Mrs. Vrain, buried as her +husband, and she got the assurance money. The +only thing that remains for your conspiracy to be +entirely successful is that Mrs. Vrain should marry +you; and—as I was told by Mr. Clyne—that has +pretty well been arranged."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>"Do you think, then, that Clyne would let his +daughter marry a man who has done all this?" said +Ferruci, who was now very pale.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe Clyne knows anything about it," +replied Lucian coldly. "You and Mrs. Vrain made +up this pretty plot between you. Vrain himself told +me how you decoyed him from Salisbury, and took +him to Mrs. Clear's, in Bayswater, where he passed +as her husband, although, as she confesses, she kept +him as a kind of prisoner."</p> + +<p>"But this is wrong," cried Ferruci, trying to +laugh. "This is most foolish. How would a man, +of his own will, pass as the husband of a woman he +knew not?"</p> + +<p>"A sane man would not; but none knew better +than you, Count, that Vrain was not sane, and that +you dosed him with drugs, and let Mrs. Clear keep +him locked up in her house until you put him in +the asylum. Vrain was a puppet in your hands, and +you locked him up in an asylum a fortnight after +the man who personated him was murdered. You +intended to marry Mrs. Vrain and keep her wretched +husband in that asylum all his life."</p> + +<p>"The best place for a lunatic," said Ferruci.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Lucian. "Then you admit that +that Vrain was mad?"</p> + +<p>"I admit nothing, not even that he is alive. If +what you say is true," said the Italian, cunningly, +"how came it that the murdered man had the scar +on his cheek? He might have been like Vrain, eh, +but not so much."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>"Mrs. Clear explained that," replied Lucian +quickly. "You made that scar, Count, with vitriol, +or some such stuff. You don't know chemistry for +nothing, I see."</p> + +<p>"I am quite ignorant of chemistry," said Ferruci +sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Jorce heard a different story in Florence."</p> + +<p>"In Florence! Did Jorce ask about me there?" +said the Count in alarm.</p> + +<p>"He did, and heard some strange tales, Count. +Come, now, it is no use your trying to evade this +matter further. Jorce can prove that you put Vrain +into his asylum under the name of Clear. Miss +Vrain can prove that the so-called Clear is her father, +and Mrs. Clear—who has turned Queen's evidence—has +exposed the whole of your conspiracy. +The game's up, Count."</p> + +<p>Ferruci sprang from his seat and began to walk +hastily up and down the room. He looked haggard +and pale, and years older, as he recognised his position, +for he saw very plainly that he was trapped, +and that nothing remained to him but flight. But +how to fly? He stopped opposite to Lucian.</p> + +<p>"What do you intend to do?" he demanded in +a hoarse voice.</p> + +<p>"Have you arrested, along with Mrs. Vrain," +replied Lucian, making this threat to force Ferruci +into defending himself or confessing.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vrain is innocent—she knows nothing +about this conspiracy, as you call it. I planned the +whole thing myself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>"You admit, then, that the so-called Vrain was +really Michael Clear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I got him to personate the man Vrain, so +that I could get the assurance money when I married +Lydia. I chose Clear because he was like +Vrain. I made the scar on the cheek, and I thought +he would die soon, being consumptive."</p> + +<p>"And you killed him?"</p> + +<p>"No! No! I swear I did not kill him!"</p> + +<p>"Did you not take that stiletto from Berwin +Manor?"</p> + +<p>"No! I never did! I am telling the truth! I +do not know who killed Clear."</p> + +<p>"Did you not visit Wrent in Jersey Street?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I was the man Rhoda saw in the back +yard. I was waiting for Mrs. Clear, to take her +to Hampstead; and in the meantime I thought I +would climb over the fence and see Clear. But +the girl saw me, so I ran away, and joined Mrs. +Clear up the road. I was not aware at the time +that the woman who saw me was Rhoda. Afterwards +I went to Hampstead with Mrs. Clear, to see +Jorce."</p> + +<p>"Did you buy the cloak?"</p> + +<p>"I did. That girl in Baxter & Co.'s told a lie +for me. I was warned by Mrs. Vrain that you +had made questions about the cloak, so I went to the +girl and told her you were a jealous husband, and +paid her to say it was not I who bought the cloak. +She did so, quite ignorant of the real reason I +wished her to deny knowing me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p><p>"Why did you buy the cloak?" asked Lucian, +satisfied with this explanation.</p> + +<p>"I bought it for Wrent. He asked me to buy it, +but what he wanted it for I do not know. He had +it some days before Christmas, and, I believe, gave +it to Mrs. Clear, and afterwards to the girl Rhoda. +But of this I am not sure."</p> + +<p>"Who is Wrent?" asked Denzil, reserving the +most important question for the last.</p> + +<p>"Wrent?" said Ferruci, smiling in a sneering +way. "Ah! you wish to know who Wrent is? +Well, excuse me for a few minutes, and I'll bring +you something to show who he is."</p> + +<p>With a nod to Lucian he passed into his bedroom, +leaving the barrister much astonished. He +thought that Ferruci was Wrent himself, and had +gone away to resume the disguise of wig and beard. +While he pondered thus the Count reappeared, carrying +a small bottle in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Denzil," said he, with a ghastly smile, "I +have played a bold game, and, thanks to a woman's +treachery, I have lost. I hoped to get twenty thousand +pounds and a charming wife; but I have +gained nothing but poverty and a chance of imprisonment; +but I am of noble birth, and I will not +survive my dishonour. You wish to know who +Wrent is—you shall never know."</p> + +<p>He raised the bottle to his lips before Lucian, +motionless with horror, could rush forward, and +the next moment Count Ercole Ferruci was lying +dead on the floor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN</h3> + + +<p>That afternoon London was ringing with the +news of Ferruci's suicide; but no paper could give +any reason for the rash act. This inability was +due to the police, who, anxious to capture those +concerned in the conspiracy to obtain the assurance +money of the Sirius Company, kept everything they +could out of the papers, lest Lydia and Wrent +should be put on their guard, and so escape.</p> + +<p>Lucian had been forced to report the death of +Ferruci to the authorities. Now the case was out +of his hands again, and in those of Link, who +blamed the young barrister severely for not having +brought him into the matter before. The detective +was always more prone to blame than to praise.</p> + +<p>"But what could I do?" cried Lucian angrily. +"You threw up the case twice! You said the assassin +of Clear—or, as you thought, Vrain—would +never be discovered!"</p> + +<p>"I did my best, and failed," retorted Link, who +did not like his position. "You have had better luck +and have succeeded."</p> + +<p>"My luck has been sheer hard work, Link. I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>was not so faint-hearted as you, to draw back at the +first check."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, the whole truth hasn't been discovered +yet, Mr. Denzil. As you have found out this +conspiracy, I may learn who the assassin is."</p> + +<p>"We know that already. The assassin is Wrent."</p> + +<p>"You have yet to prove that."</p> + +<p>"I?" said Lucian, with disdain. "I prove nothing. +I wash my hands of the whole affair. You +are a detective; let me see what you will make of +a case which has baffled you twice!" and Denzil, +with rage in his heart, went off, laughing at the +discomfiture of Link.</p> + +<p>At that moment the detective hated his successful +rival with his whole heart.</p> + +<p>Lucian took a hansom to the Royal John Hotel +in Kensington, where Diana, in a great state of +alarm, was reading the evening papers, which contained +short notices of Ferruci's death. On seeing +her lover, she hurried forward anxiously and caught +him by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Lucian, I am so glad you have come!" she cried, +leading him to a chair. "I sent messages both to +Geneva Square and Sergeant's Inn, but you were +neither at your lodgings nor in your office."</p> + +<p>"I was better employed, my dear," said Lucian, +with a weary sigh, for he was quite worn out with +fatigue and anxiety. "I have been with Link, telling +him about Ferruci's death, and being blamed as the +cause of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You blamed! And why?" said Diana, with +just indignation.</p> + +<p>"Because I forced Ferruci to confess the truth, +and when he saw that there was every chance of his +being put into jail for his villainy, he went to his +bedroom and took poison. You know, Mrs. Clear +said the man was something of a chemist, so I suppose +he prepared the poison himself. It was very +swift in its action, for he dropped dead before I +could recover my presence of mind."</p> + +<p>"Lucian! this is terrible!" cried Diana, wringing +her hands.</p> + +<p>"You may well say that," he replied gloomily. +"Now the whole details of the case will be in the +papers, and that unfortunate woman will be arrested."</p> + +<p>"Lydia! And what will her father say? It will +break his heart!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; but he must take the consequences of +having brought up his daughter so badly. Still," +added Lucian, reflectively, "I do not believe that +Lydia is so guilty as Wrent. That scoundrel seems +to be at the bottom of the affair. Ferruci and he +contrived and carried out the whole thing between +them, and a precious pair of villains they are."</p> + +<p>"Will Wrent be arrested?"</p> + +<p>"If he can be found; but I fancy the scoundrel +has made himself scarce out of fright. Since he +left Jersey Street, after the murder, he has not been +heard of. Even Mrs. Clear does not know where +he is. You know she has put advertisements in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>papers in the cypher he gave her—according to the +arrangement between them—but Wrent has not +turned up."</p> + +<p>"And Rhoda?"</p> + +<p>"Rhoda is still missing. The police are getting +warrants out for the servant, for Wrent, for Mrs. +Clear, and for Lydia Vrain. Ferruci, luckily for +himself and his family, has escaped the law by his +own act. It was the wisest thing the scoundrel +could do to kill himself and avoid dishonour. I +must admit the man had pluck."</p> + +<p>"It is terrible! terrible! What will be the end +of it?"</p> + +<p>"Imprisonment for the lot, I expect, unless they +can prove that Wrent murdered Clear; then they +will hang him. But now that Ferruci is dead, I +fancy Rhoda is the only witness who can prove +Wrent's guilt. That is why she ran away. I don't +wonder she was afraid to stay. But I feel quite +worn out with all this, Diana. Please give me a +biscuit and a glass of port; I have had nothing all +day."</p> + +<p>With a sigh, Diana touched the bell, and when +the waiter made his appearance gave the order. She +felt low-spirited and nervous, in spite of the discovery +that her father was alive and well; and indeed +the extraordinary events of the last few days +were sufficient to upset the strongest mind.</p> + +<p>Lucian was leaning back in his chair with closed +eyes, for his head was aching with the excitement +of the morning. Suddenly he opened them and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>jumped up. At the same time Diana threw open +the door with an exclamation, and both of them +heard the thin, high voice of a woman, who apparently +was coming up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Never mind my name," said the voice, "I'll tell +it to Miss Vrain myself. Take me to her at once."</p> + +<p>"Lydia!" called Lucian, "and here? Great heavens! +Why does she come here?"</p> + +<p>Diana said nothing, but compressed her lips as +Lydia, followed by the waiter with the biscuits and +wine, came into the room. She was plainly and +neatly dressed, and wore a heavy veil, but seemed +greatly excited. She did not say a word, nor did +Diana, until the waiter left the room and closed the +door. Then she threw up her veil, revealing a haggard +face and red eyes, swollen with weeping, and +filled with an expression of terror.</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive! isn't this awful?" she wailed, making +a clutch at Miss Vrain's arm. "You've done +it, this time, Diana. Ferruci's dead, and your father +alive, and I'm not a widow, and my father away +I don't know where! I was told that the police +were after me, so I'm clearing out."</p> + +<p>"Clearing out, Mrs. Vrain?" repeated Diana, +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"I should think so!" sobbed Lydia. "I don't +want to stay and be put in gaol, though what I've +done to be put in gaol for, I don't know."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Lucian indignantly. "You don't +know—when this abominable conspiracy is——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>"I know nothing of the conspiracy," interrupted +Lydia.</p> + +<p>"Did you not get Ferruci to put your husband +into an asylum?"</p> + +<p>"I? I did nothing of the sort. I thought my +husband was dead and buried until Ferruci told me +the truth, and then I held my tongue until I could +think of what to do. After Ercole died, his servant +came round and told me all—he overheard +the conversation you had with the Count, Mr. +Denzil. I was never so astonished in my life as to +hear about Mrs. Clear and her husband—and +Mark alive—and—and—oh, Lord! isn't it dreadful? +Give me a glass of wine, Diana, or I'll go +right off in a dead faint!"</p> + +<p>In silence Miss Vrain poured out a glass of port +and handed it to her stepmother, who sipped it in a +most tearful mood. Lucian looked at the wretched +little woman without saying a word, and wondered +if, indeed, she was as innocent as she made herself +out to be. He thought that, after all, she might +be ignorant of Ferruci's plots, although she had +certainly benefited by them; but she was such a glib +liar that he did not know how much to believe of +her story. However, she had hitherto only given +a general idea of her connection with the matter, +so when she had finished her wine, and was somewhat +calmer, Lucian begged her to be more explicit.</p> + +<p>"Did you know—did you guess, or even suspect—that +your husband was alive?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Denzil," said Lydia, with unusual solemnity, +"as I'm a married woman, and not the widow +I thought I was, I did not know that Mark was +alive! I'm bad, I daresay, but I am not bad enough +to shut a man up in a lunatic asylum and pretend +he is dead, just to get money, much as I like it. +What I did about identifying the corpse was done +in good faith."</p> + +<p>"You really thought it was my father's body?" +questioned Diana doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I swear I did," responded Mrs. Vrain, emphatically. +"Mark walked out of the house because +he thought I was carrying on with Ferruci, which +I wasn't. It was that Tyler cat who made the trouble +between us, and Mark was so weak and silly—half +crazy, I think, with his morphia and over-study—that +he cleared right out, and I never knew where +he had gone to. When I saw that notice about the +murdered man in Geneva Square, who called himself +Berwin, and was marked on the cheek, I +thought he might be my husband. When the coffin +was opened, I really believed I saw poor Mark's +dead body. The face was just like his, and scarred +in the same way."</p> + +<p>"What about the missing finger, Mrs. Vrain? If +I remember, you even gave a cause for its loss."</p> + +<p>"Well, it was this way," replied Lydia, somewhat +discomposed. "I knew that Mark hadn't lost +a finger when he left, but Ferruci said that if I denied +it the police might refuse to believe that the +body was that of my husband. So, as I was sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +it was Mark's corpse, I just said he had lost a finger +out West. I didn't think there was any harm +in saying so, as for all I knew he might have got it +chopped off after leaving me. But the face of the +dead man was—as I thought—Mark's, and he +called himself Berwin, which, you know, Diana, is +the name of the Manor, and the scar was on the +cheek. I know now it was all contrived by Ercole; +but then I was quite ignorant."</p> + +<p>"When did you find out the truth?"</p> + +<p>"After that cloak business. Ferruci came to me, +and I told him what that girl at Baxter's had said, +and insisted that he should tell me the truth. Well, +he did, in order to force me to marry him, and then +I told him to go and make it right with the girl, +so that when Mr. Denzil went again she'd deny that +Ercole had bought the cloak."</p> + +<p>"She denied it, sure enough," said Lucian grimly. +"Ferruci, before he died, told me he had bribed her +to speak falsely. What more did the Count reveal +to you, Mrs. Vrain?—the conspiracy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He said he'd found Mark hiding at Salisbury, +half mad with morphia, and had taken him +up to Mrs. Clear's, where it seems he went mad +altogether, so they locked him up as her husband +in a lunatic asylum. Ferruci also told me that he +had seen Michael Clear on the stage, and that as +he was so like Mark, and was likely to die of drink +and consumption, he got him to play the part of +Mark in Geneva Square, under the name of Berwin. +Mrs. Clear visited her husband there by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>climbing over a back fence, and getting down a +cellar, somehow."</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Lucian. "It was Mrs. +Clear's shadow I saw on the blind. She was fighting +with her husband, and when I rang the bell they +were both so alarmed that they left the house by +the back way and got into Jersey Street. Then +Mrs. Clear went home, and the man himself came +round into the Square by the front way. That was +how I met him. I wondered how people were in +the house during his absence. Mrs. Clear told me +all."</p> + +<p>"Did she say why her husband made you examine +the house?" asked Diana.</p> + +<p>"No. But I expect he made me do so that I +should not have my suspicions about that back entrance. +But, Mrs. Vrain, when Ferruci confessed +that your husband was alive, why did you not tell it +to the world?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd got the assurance money, you see," +said Lydia, with shrewd candour, "and I thought +the company would make a fuss and take it back—as +I suppose they will now. Ferruci wanted me to +marry him, but I wasn't so bad as that. I did not +want to commit bigamy. But I really held my +tongue because Ferruci told me who killed Clear."</p> + +<p>"He knew, then?" cried Lucian, "and denied it +to me! Who killed the man?"</p> + +<p>"Wrent did—the man who lived in Jersey +Street."</p> + +<p>"And who is at the bottom of the whole plot!" +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>said Lucian furiously. "Do you know where he +is to be found?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Lydia boldly, "I do; but I'm not going +to tell where he is!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I don't want him punished."</p> + +<p>"But I do," said Diana angrily. "He is a wretch +who ought to suffer!"</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Lydia, loudly and spitefully, +"then make him suffer, for this Wrent is your own +father! It was Mark who killed Michael Clear!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>LINK SETS A TRAP</h3> + + +<p>In the course of their acquaintance, Diana had +put up with a great deal from the little American +adventuress, owing to her position of stepmother, +but when she heard her accusing the man she had +ruined of murder, the patience of Miss Vrain gave +way. She rose quickly, and walking over to where +Lydia was shrinking in her chair, towered in righteous +indignation above the shameless little woman.</p> + +<p>"You lie, Mrs. Vrain!" she said in a low, distinct +voice, with a flushed face and indignation in +her eyes. "You know you lie!"</p> + +<p>"I—I only repeat what Ferruci told me," whimpered +Lydia, rather alarmed by the attitude of her +stepdaughter. "I'm sure I hope Mark didn't kill +the man, but Ercole said that he was in Jersey +Street for that purpose."</p> + +<p>"It is not true! My father was in the asylum +at Hampstead!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed he wasn't—not at the time Clear was +killed!" protested Lydia. "He was not put into +the asylum until at least two weeks after Christmas. +Is that not so, Mr. Denzil?"</p> + +<p>"It is so," assented Lucian gravely, "but even +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>admitting so much, it is impossible to believe that +Mr. Vrain was in Jersey Street. For many months +before Christmas he was in charge of Mrs. Clear, +at Bayswater."</p> + +<p>"So Ercole said," replied Lydia, "but he used +to get away from Mrs. Clear at times, and had to +be brought back."</p> + +<p>"He wandered when he got the chance," said +Lucian, with hesitation. "I admit as much."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, when he was not at Bayswater he +used to live in Jersey Street as Wrent. Ferruci +found him out there, and tried to get him to go +back, and he took Mrs. Clear several times to the +same place in order to persuade him to return to +Bayswater. That was why Mrs. Clear visited Jersey +Street. Oh, Mark played his part there as Mr. +Wrent, I guess; there ain't no two questions about +that," finished Lydia triumphantly. "He is the +assassin, you bet!"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it!" cried Diana furiously. +"Why, my father is too weak in the head to have +the will, let alone the courage, to masquerade like +that. He is like a child in leading-strings."</p> + +<p>"That's his cunning, Diana. He's 'cute enough +to pretend madness, so that he won't be hanged!"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible that Vrain can be Wrent," said +Lucian decidedly. "I agree with Miss Vrain; he +is too weak and irresponsible to carry out such a +deed. Besides, I don't see how you prove him +guilty of the murder; you do not even know that +he could enter the Silent House by the secret way."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p><p>"I don't know anything about it, except what +Count Ferruci told me," said Lydia obstinately. +"And he said that Vrain, as Wrent, killed Clear. +But you can easily prove if it's true or not."</p> + +<p>"How can we prove it?" asked Diana coldly.</p> + +<p>"By laying a trap for Mark. You know—at +least Ercole told me, and I suppose Mrs. Clear told +you—that she corresponded with Mark—Wrent, I +mean—in the agony column of the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>.</p> + +<p>"By means of a cypher? Yes, I know that, but +she hasn't received any answer yet."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," replied Lydia, with triumph, +"because Wrent—that's Mark, you know—is in the +asylum, and can't answer her."</p> + +<p>"This is all nonsense!" broke in Lucian, impatient +of this cobweb spinning. "I don't believe a +word of Ferruci's story. If Vrain lived in Jersey +Street as Wrent, why should Mrs. Clear visit him?"</p> + +<p>"To get him back to Bayswater."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! nonsense! And even admitting as +much, why should Mrs. Clear, in the newspapers, +correspond in cypher with a man whom she not +only knows is in an asylum as her husband, but who +can be seen by her at any time?"</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you, Lucian," cried Diana +emphatically. "Count Ferruci told a pack of falsehoods +to Mrs. Vrain! The thing is utterly absurd!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess I'm not so easily made a fool of +as all that!" cried Lydia, firing up. "If you don't +believe me, lay the trap I told you of. Let Mark +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>go free out of the asylum; get Mrs. Clear, with +her cypher and newspapers, to ask him to meet her +in the house where Clear was murdered, and then +you'll see if Mark won't turn up in his character of +Wrent."</p> + +<p>"He will not!" cried Diana vehemently. "He +will not!"</p> + +<p>"Mark, when he left me," went on the angry +Lydia, "had plenty of hair, and was clean shaven. +Now—as Ferruci told me, for I haven't seen him—he +is bald, and wears a skull-cap of black velvet, +and a white beard. After Ercole told me about +Jersey Street I went there to ask that fat woman +about Mark; she said he had gone away two days +after Christmas, and described him as an old man +with a skull-cap and a white beard."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Lucian, for he recollected that +Rhoda gave the same description.</p> + +<p>"Ah! you know I speak the truth!" said Lydia, +rising, "but I've had enough of all this. I've lost +my money, and I don't suppose I'll go back to +Mark. I've been treated badly all round, and I +don't know what poppa will say. But I'm going +out of London to meet him."</p> + +<p>"You said you did not know where your father +was!" cried Diana scornfully.</p> + +<p>"I don't tell you everything, Diana," retorted +Lydia, looking very wicked, "but, if you must know, +poppa went over to Paris last week, and I'm going +over there to meet him. He'll raise Cain for the +way I've been treated."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p><p>"Well," said Lucian, as she prepared to take her +leave, "I hope you'll get away."</p> + +<p>"Do you intend to stop me, Mr. Denzil?" flashed +out Mrs. Vrain, furiously.</p> + +<p>"Not I; but I'll give you a hint—the railway +stations will be watched by the police."</p> + +<p>"For me?" said Lydia, with a scared expression. +"Oh, sakes! it's awful! and I've done nothing. It's +not my fault if I got the assurance money. I really +thought that Mark was dead. But I'll try and get +away to poppa; he'll put things right. Good-bye, +Mr. Denzil, and Diana; you've done me a heap of +harm, but I don't bear malice," and Mrs. Vrain +rushed out of the room in a great hurry to escape +the chance of arrest hinted at by Lucian. She had +a sharp eye to her own safety.</p> + +<p>Diana waited until the cab which Lydia had kept +waiting was driving away, and then turned with +an anxious expression on her face to look at Lucian. +"My dear," she said, taking his arm, "what do you +think of Lydia's accusation?"</p> + +<p>"Against your father?" said Lucian. "Why, I +don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>"Nor do I; but it will be as well to set the trap +she suggests; for if my father does not fall into it—and +as he is not Wrent, I don't believe he will—the +real man may keep the appointment with Mrs. +Clear."</p> + +<p>"Whosoever Wrent is, I don't think he'll come +again to the Silent House," replied the barrister, +shaking his head. "It would be thrusting his head +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>into the lion's jaws. If he is in London he'll see +the death of Ferruci described in the papers, and +no doubt will guess that the game is up; so he'll +keep away."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, we'll do as Lydia suggests," said +Diana obstinately. "You see Mr. Link and Mrs. +Clear, and arrange about the cypher. Then my +father is to be discharged as cured to-morrow, and +I'll let him go out if he pleases. Of course, I'll +follow him; then I'll be able to see if he goes to +Pimlico."</p> + +<p>"But, Diana, suppose he does go to the Silent +House, and proves to be Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"He won't do that, my dear. My father is no +more Wrent than you are. I believe Lydia speaks +in the full belief that he is; but Ferruci, for his +own ends, lied to her. However, to trap the real +man, let us do as Lydia suggests. The idea is a +good one."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll try," said Lucian, with a sigh. "But +I do hope, Diana, that this case will end soon. Every +week there is some fresh development in a new direction, +and I am getting quite bewildered over it."</p> + +<p>"It will end with the capture of Wrent, the assassin."</p> + +<p>"I hope so; and God grant Wrent does not prove +to be your father!"</p> + +<p>"There is no fear of that," said Diana gravely. +"My father is insane more or less, but he is not a +murderer. I am quite content to risk the trap suggested +by that woman."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucian did not at once adopt the plan to net +Wrent—whosoever he might be—invented by +Lydia, and approved of by Diana. On the whole, +he could not bring himself to believe that a weak-headed, +foolish old creature like Vrain had masqueraded +in Jersey Street as Wrent. Still there +were certain suspicious incidents which fitted in very +neatly with Ferruci's story. Mrs. Clear had stated +that Vrain, when under her charge, escaped several +times, and had remained away for several days, +until brought back again by the Count. Again, the +appearance of Wrent, as described by Rhoda, was +precisely the same as the looks of Vrain when Lucian +saw him in the Hampstead asylum; so it +seemed that there might be some truth in the story.</p> + +<p>"But it's impossible!" said Lucian to himself. +"Vrain is half mad and incapable of conducting +his own life, or arranging so cleverly to commit a +crime. Also he had no money, and, had he lived +in Jersey Street, would not have been able to pay +Mrs. Bensusan. There is something more in the +coincidence of this similarity of looks than meets +the eye. I'll see Link and hear what he has to +say on the subject. It's time he found out something."</p> + +<p>The next day Lucian paid a visit to Link, but +was not received very amiably by that gentleman, +who proved to be in a somewhat bad temper. He +was not altogether pleased with Lucian finding out +more about the case than he had discovered himself, +and also—to further ruffle his temper—the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>clever Lydia had given him the slip. He had called +at her Mayfair house with a warrant for her arrest, +only to find out that—having received timely warning +from Ferruci's servant—she had fled. In vain +the railway stations had been watched. Lydia, +taking the hint given to her by Lucian, had baffled +that peril by taking the Dover train at a station outside +London.</p> + +<p>Lucian heard what Link had to say on the subject, +but did not reveal the fact that Lydia had paid +a visit to Diana, or had gone to meet her father +at Dover. He did not want to give the little woman +up to justice, as he was beginning to believe her +innocent; and that, in all truth, she had known +nothing of the Ferruci-Wrent conspiracy.</p> + +<p>Therefore, giving no information to Link as to +the little woman's whereabouts, Denzil told—as +coming from himself—his idea that Wrent might +fall into a trap set for him in the Pimlico House +by means of Mrs. Clear's cypher. Link listened to +the tale attentively, and decided to adopt the idea.</p> + +<p>"It is a good one," he admitted generously, "and +I'm not jealous enough to cut off my nose to spite +my face. You have had the better of me all through +this case, Mr. Denzil, and we have had words over +it; but I'll show you that I can appreciate your cleverness +by adopting your plan."</p> + +<p>"I am greatly obliged to you for your good opinion," +said Lucian drily, for he saw with some humour +that Link was only too anxious to benefit by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>the very cleverness of which he pretended to be +so jealous. "And you will see Mrs. Clear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'll see her at once, and get her to invite +Wrent to Pimlico by that cypher, with a threat that +she will betray the whole plot if he does not come."</p> + +<p>"I daresay he knows already that Mrs. Clear is +a traitress?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" replied Link quickly. "I have +kept Mrs. Clear's name out of the papers. It is +known that Ferruci is dead, and that Mrs. Vrain is +likely to be arrested in connection with her supposed +husband's murder. But the fact of Mrs. +Clear putting the real Vrain into the asylum is not +known, nor, indeed, anything about the woman. +If Wrent thinks she'll tell tales, he'll meet her in +their own hunting grounds in Geneva Square, to +make his terms. Hitherto he has not replied to +her requests for money, but now he'll think she is +driven into a corner, and will fix her up once and +for all."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that Wrent is Vrain?"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! no!" replied Link, staring. "What +put that into your head?"</p> + +<p>Lucian immediately told about the supposed connection +between Vrain and Wrent, but, suppressing +that it was Lydia's or Ferruci's idea, based his supposition +on the fact of the resemblance between the +two men. Link heard the theory with scorn, and +scouted the idea that the two men could be one and +the same.</p> + +<p>"I've seen Vrain," said he. "The old man is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>as mad as a March hare and as silly as a child. +He's in his dotage, and could not possibly carry out +such a plan. But we can easily learn the truth."</p> + +<p>"From whom?" asked Lucian.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Denzil, you are not so clever as you +think yourself," scoffed Link. "Why, from Mrs. +Clear, to be sure. She visited at Jersey Street, and +saw Wrent, and as Vrain was then with her in the +character of her husband, she'll be able to tell us +if they are two men or one person."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Link. I never thought of that."</p> + +<p>"He! he! Then I can still teach you something," +replied Link, in high good humour at having for +once scored off the too clever barrister, and forthwith +went off to see Mrs. Clear.</p> + +<p>How this interview with that lady sped, or what +she told him, he refused to reveal to Lucian; but its +result was that a cypher appeared in the agony column +of the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>, calling upon Wrent +to meet her in the Silent House in Pimlico, under +the penalty of her telling the police all she knew if +he did not come. In the same issue of the paper in +which this message appeared there was a paragraph +stating that Mrs. Vrain had been arrested at Dover.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>WHO FELL INTO THE TRAP?</h3> + + +<p>However closely one may study the fair sex, +there is no understanding them in the least. No +one can say how a woman will act in a given situation; +for feminine actions are based less on logical +foundations than on the emotion of the moment.</p> + +<p>Diana had never liked Lydia; when the American +girl became her stepmother she hated her, and +not only said as much but showed in her every action +that she believed what she said. She declared that +she would be glad to see Lydia deprived of her +money and put into jail! The punishment would be +no more than she deserved.</p> + +<p>Yet when these things came to pass; when, by the +discovery that Vrain yet lived, Lydia lost her liberty; +and when, as connected with the conspiracy, +she was arrested on a criminal warrant and +put into prison, Diana was the only friend +she had. Miss Vrain declared that her stepmother +was innocent, visited her in prison, and +engaged a lawyer to defend her. Lucian could not +forbear pointing out the discrepancy between +Diana's past sentiments and her present actions; but +Miss Vrain was quite ready with an excuse.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p><p>"I am only doing my duty," she said. "In herself +I like Lydia as little as ever I did, but I think +we have suspected her wrongly in being connected +with this conspiracy, so I wish to help her if possible. +And after all," added Diana, "she is my +father's wife," as if that fact extenuated all.</p> + +<p>"He has reason to know it," replied Lucian bitterly. +"If it had not been for Lydia, your father +would not have left his home for a lunatic asylum, +nor would Clear have been murdered."</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you, Lucian; but some good +has come out of this evil, for if things had not been +as they are, you and I would never have met."</p> + +<p>"Egad! that is true!" said Lucian, kissing her. +"It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good."</p> + +<p>So Diana played the part of a Good Samaritan +towards her stepmother, and helped her to bear the +evil of being thrust into prison. Lydia wrote to +her father in Paris, but received no reply, and therefore +was without a friend in the world save Diana. +Later on she was admitted to bail, and Diana +took her to the hotel in Kensington, there to wait +for the arrival of Mr. Clyne. His absence and +silence were both unaccountable.</p> + +<p>"I hope nothing is wrong with poppa," wept +Lydia. "As a rule, he is always smart in replying, +and if he has seen about Ercole's death and my imprisonment +in the papers, I'm sure he will be over +soon."</p> + +<p>While she was thus waiting for her father, and +Link in every way was seeking evidence against +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>her, Mrs. Clear received an answer to her message. +In the same column of the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>, and in +the same cypher, there appeared a message from +Wrent that he would meet Mrs. Clear at No. 13 +Geneva Square.</p> + +<p>Link was delighted when Mrs. Clear showed +him this, and rubbed his hands with much pleasure. +Affairs were about to be brought to a crisis, and +as Link was the moving spirit in the matter, his +vanity was sufficiently gratified as to make him quite +amiable.</p> + +<p>"We've got him this time, Mr. Denzil," he said, +with enthusiasm. "You and I and a couple of policemen +will go down to that house in Geneva +Square—by the front, sir, by the front."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Clear, also?" questioned Lucian, wishing +to be enlightened on all points.</p> + +<p>"No. She'll come in by the back, down the cellarway, +as Wrent expects her to come. Then he'll +follow in the same path and walk right into the +trap."</p> + +<p>"But won't the two be seen climbing over that +fence in the daytime?" asked the barrister doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Who said anything about the daytime, Mr. +Denzil? I did not, and Wrent knows too much to +risk himself at a time that he can be seen from the +windows of the adjacent houses. No! no! The +meeting with Mrs. Clear is to take place in the +front room at ten o'clock, when it will be quite dark. +You, I, and the policemen will hide in what was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>the bedroom, and listen to what Wrent has to say +to Mrs. Clear. We'll give him rope enough to +hang himself, sir, and then pounce out and nab +him."</p> + +<p>"Well, he won't show much fight if he is Mr. +Vrain."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he is Mr. Vrain," retorted the +detective bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I am doubtful of that, also," admitted Lucian, +"but you know Vrain is now out of the asylum, and, +for the time being, has been left to his own devices. +The reply to the cypher did not appear until he +was in that position. Supposing, after all, this mysterious +Wrent proves to be this unhappy man?"</p> + +<p>"In that case, he'll have to pay for his whistle, +sir."</p> + +<p>"You mean in connection with the conspiracy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and perhaps with the murder of Clear; but +we don't know if the so-called Wrent committed +the crime. For such reason, Mr. Denzil, I wish to +overhear what he says to Mrs. Clear. It is as well +to give him enough rope to hang himself with."</p> + +<p>"Can you trust Mrs. Clear?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. She knows on which side her bread +is buttered. Her only chance of getting free from +her share of the matter is to turn Queen's evidence, +and she intends to do so."</p> + +<p>"What did she say about Vrain being Wrent?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Link, putting his head on one +side, and looking at Lucian with an odd expression, +"you had better wait till the man's caught be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>fore +I answer that question. Then, maybe, you +won't require an answer."</p> + +<p>"It is very probable I won't," replied Lucian +drily. "What time am I to see you to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I'll call for you at nine o'clock sharp, and we'll +go across to the house at once. I have the key in +my pocket now. Peacock gave it to me this morning. +The scene will be quite dramatic."</p> + +<p>"I hope it won't prove to be Vrain," said Lucian +restlessly, for he thought how grieved Diana would +be.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," answered Link curtly, "but there's +no knowing. However, if the old man does get +into trouble he can plead insanity. His having been +in the asylum of Jorce is a strong card for him to +play. Good-day, Mr. Denzil. I'll see you to-night +at nine o'clock sharp."</p> + +<p>"Good-day," replied Lucian, and the pair parted +for the time being.</p> + +<p>Lucian did not go near Diana that day. In the +first place, he did not wish to see Lydia, for whom +he had no great love; and in the second, he was +afraid to speak to Diana as to the possibility of +her father being Wrent.</p> + +<p>Diana, as a good daughter should, held firmly +to the idea that her father could not behave in such +a way; and as a sensible woman, she did not think +that a man with so few of his senses about him +could have acted the dual part with which he was +credited without, in some measure, betraying himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucian was somewhat of this opinion himself, yet +he had an uneasy feeling that Vrain might prove +to be the culprit. The fact of Vrain's being often +away from Mrs. Clear's house in Bayswater, and +Wrent absent in the same way from Mrs. Bensusan's +house in Jersey Street, appeared strange, and +argued a connection between the two. Again, the +resemblance between them was most extraordinary +and unaccountable.</p> + +<p>On the whole, Lucian was not satisfied in his +mind as to what would be the end of the matter, +and had he known Mrs. Clear's address he would +have gone to question her about it. But only Link +knew where the woman was to be found, and kept +that information to himself—especially from Denzil. +Now that he had the reins once more in his +hands, he did not intend that the barrister should +take them again.</p> + +<p>Punctual to the minute, Link, in a state of subdued +excitement, came to Lucian's rooms. Already +he had sent his two policemen over to the house, +into which he had instructed them to enter in the +quietest and most unostentatious manner, and now +came to escort the barrister across.</p> + +<p>Lucian put on his hat at once, and the two walked +out into the dark night, for dark it was, with no +moon, few stars, and a great many clouds. A most +satisfactory night for their purpose.</p> + +<p>"All the better," said Link, casting a look round +the deserted square; "all the better for our little +game. I wish to secure this fellow as quietly as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>possible. Here's the door open—in with you, Mr. +Denzil!"</p> + +<p>According to instructions, a policeman had waited +behind the closed door, and at the one sharp +knock of his superior opened it at once so that the +two slipped in as speedily as possible. Link had +a dark-lantern, which he used carefully, so that no +light could be seen from the window looking on +to the square; and with his three companions he +went into the back room which had formerly been +used by Clear as a sleeping apartment. Here the +two policemen stationed themselves in one corner; +and Link, with Lucian, waited near the door leading +into the sitting-room, so as to be ready for Mrs. +Clear.</p> + +<p>All was so dark and lonely and silent that Lucian's +nerves became over-strained, and it was as +much as he could do to prevent himself from trembling +violently. In a whisper he conversed with Link.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard anything of that girl Rhoda?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"We have traced her to Berkshire," whispered +Link. "She went back to her gypsy kinsfolk, you +know. I dare say we'll manage to lay hands on +her sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"She is an accomplice of Wrent's, I believe."</p> + +<p>"So do I, and I hope to make him confess as +much to-night. Hush!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Link had laid his clasp on Lucian's +wrist to command silence, and the next moment they +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>heard the swish-swish of a woman's dress coming +along the passage. She entered the sitting-room +cautiously, moving slowly in the darkness, and stole +up to the door behind which Lucian and the detective +were hiding. The position of this she knew +well, because it was opposite the window.</p> + +<p>"Are you there?" whispered Mrs. Clear nervously.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Link in the same tone. "Myself, +Mr. Denzil, and two policemen. Keep the man +in talk, and find out, if possible, if he committed +the murder."</p> + +<p>"I hope he won't kill me," muttered Mrs. Clear. +"He will, if he knows I've betrayed him."</p> + +<p>"That will be all right," said Link in a low, +impatient voice. "We will rush out should he prove +dangerous. Get over by the window, so that we +can see a little of you and Wrent when you talk."</p> + +<p>"No! no! Don't leave the door open! He'll see +you!"</p> + +<p>"He won't, Mrs. Clear. We'll keep back in the +darkness. If he shows a light, we'll rush him before +he can use a weapon or clear out. Get back +to the window!"</p> + +<p>"I hope I'll get through with this all right," said +Mrs. Clear nervously. "It's an awful situation," +and she moved stealthily across the floor to the window.</p> + +<p>There was a faint gaslight outside, and the +watchers could see her figure and profile black +against the slight illumination. All was still and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>silent as the grave when they began their dreary +watch.</p> + +<p>The minutes passed slowly in the darkness, and +there was an unbroken silence save for the breathing +of the watchers and the restless movements of +Mrs. Clear near the window. They saw her pass +and repass the square of glass, when, unexpectedly, +she paused, rigid and silent.</p> + +<p>A stealthy step was ascending the distant stair, +and pacing cat-like along the passage.</p> + +<p>Lucian felt a tremor pass through his body as +the steps of the murderer sounded nearer and clearer. +They paused at the door, and then moved towards +the window where Mrs. Clear was standing.</p> + +<p>"Is that you?" said a low voice, which came +weirdly out of the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have been waiting for the last half hour, +Mr. Wrent," replied the woman in nervous tones. +"I am glad you have come."</p> + +<p>"I am glad, also," said the voice harshly, "as I +wish to know why you propose to betray me."</p> + +<p>"Because you won't pay me the money," said +Mrs. Clear boldly. "And if you don't give it to +me this very night I'll go straight and tell the police +all about my husband."</p> + +<p>"I'll kill you first!" cried the man with a snarl, +and made a dash at the woman. With a cry for +help she eluded him and sprang towards the bedroom +door for protection. The next moment the +four watchers were in the room wrestling with +Wrent. When he felt the grip of their hands, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>knew that he was betrayed, he cried out savagely, +and fought with the strength of two men. However, +he could do little against his four adversaries, +and, worn out with the struggle, collapsed suddenly +on to the dusty floor with a motion of despair.</p> + +<p>"Lost! lost!" he muttered. "All lost!"</p> + +<p>Breathing hard, Link slipped back the cover of +the dark lantern and turned the light on to the face +of the prisoner. Out of the darkness started a pale +face with white hair and long white beard. Lucian +uttered a cry.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vrain!" he said, shrinking back, "Mr. +Vrain!"</p> + +<p>"Look again," said Link, passing his hand rapidly +over the face and head of the prostrate man. +Denzil did look, and uttered a second cry more +startling than the first. Wig and beard and venerable +looks were all gone, and he recognised at +once who Wrent was.</p> + +<p>"Jabez Clyne!—Jabez Clyne!" he exclaimed in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" cried Link triumphantly, "Jabez Clyne, +conspirator and assassin!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>A STRANGE CONFESSION</h3> + + +<p>"I, Jabez Clyne, write this confession in my +prison cell, of my own free will, and without coercion +from any one; partly because I know that the +evidence concerning my share in the Vrain conspiracy +is strong against me, and partly because I +wish to exonerate my daughter Lydia.</p> + +<p>"She is absolutely innocent of all knowledge concerning +the feigned death of her husband and his +actual existence in a private lunatic asylum; and +on the strength of this confession of mine—which +will fix the guilt of the matter on the right persons—I +demand that she shall be set free. It is not +fair that she should suffer, for I and Ferruci +planned and carried out the whole conspiracy. Well, +Ferruci has punished himself, and soon the law will +punish me, so it is only justice that Lydia should +be discharged from all blame. On this understanding +I set out the whole story of the affair—how it +was thought of, how it was contrived, and how it +was carried out. Now that Count Ferruci is dead, +this confession can harm no one but myself, and +may be the means of setting Lydia free. So here I +begin my recital.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>"I was always an unlucky man, and the end of +my life proves to be as unfortunate as the beginning. +I was born in London some fifty and more +years ago, in a Whitechapel slum, of drunken and +profligate parents, so it is little to be wondered at +that my career has been anything but virtuous or +respectable. In my early childhood—if it may be +called so—I was beaten and starved, set to beg, +forced to thieve, and never had a kind word said +to me or a kind deed done to me. No wonder I +grew up a callous, hardened ruffian. As the twig is +bent, so will the tree grow.</p> + +<p>"Out of this depth of degradation I was rescued +by a philanthropist, who had me fed and clothed +and educated. I had at his hands every chance of +leading a respectable life, but I did not want to +become smug and honest. My early training was +too strong for that, so after a year or two of enforced +goodness I ran away to sea. The vessel I +embarked on as a stowaway was bound for America. +When I was discovered hiding among the cargo +we were in mid-ocean, and there was nothing for +it but to carry me to the States. Still, to earn my +passage, I was made cabin-boy to a ruffianly captain, +and once more tasted the early delights of +childhood, viz., kicks, curses, and starvation. When +the ship arrived in New York I was turned adrift in +the city without a penny or a friend.</p> + +<p>"It is not my purpose to describe my sufferings, +as such description will do no good and interest nobody; +particularly as the purpose of this confession +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>is to declare the Vrain conspiracy and its failure; +so I will pass over my early years as speedily as possible. +To be brief: I became a newsboy, then a +reporter; afterwards I went West and tried my +luck in San Francisco, later on in Texas; but in +every case I failed, and became poorer and more +desperate than ever. In New Orleans I set up a +newspaper and had a brief time of prosperity, when +I married the daughter of a hotelkeeper, and for +the time was happy.</p> + +<p>"Then the Civil War broke out, and I was ruined. +My wife died, leaving me with one child, +whom I called Lydia, after her, but that child died +also, and I was left alone. After the war I prospered +again for a time, and married a woman with +money. She also died, and left a daughter, and +this child I again called Lydia, in memory of my +first wife, who was the only woman I ever truly +loved. I placed little Lydia in a convent for education, +and devoted my second wife's money to that +purpose; then I started out for the fifth or sixth +time to make my fortune. Needless to say, I did +not make it.</p> + +<p>"I pass over a long period of distress and prosperity, +hopes and fears. One day I was rich, the +next poor; and Fate—or whatever malignant deity +looked after my poor affairs—knocked me about +most cruelly, tossed me up, threw me down, and at +the end of a score of years left me comparatively +prosperous, with an income, in English money, of +£500 a year. With this I returned to Washington +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>to seek Lydia, and found her grown up into a beautiful +and clever girl. Her beauty gave me the idea +that I might marry her well in Europe as an American +heiress. So for Europe we started, and after +many years of travel about the Continent we settled +down in the Pension Donizetti in Florence. +There Lydia was admired for her beauty and wit, +and courted for her money! But save for my ten +pounds a week, which we eked out in the most +frugal manner, we had not a penny between us.</p> + +<p>"It was in Florence that we met with Vrain and +his daughter, who came to stay at the Pension. He +was a quiet, harmless old gentleman, a trifle weak +in the head, which his daughter said came from +over-study, but which I discovered afterwards was +due to habitual indulgence in morphia and other +drugs. His daughter watched him closely, and—not +having a will of his own by reason of his weak +brain—he submitted passively to her guidance. I +heard by a side wind that Vrain was rich, and had +a splendid mansion in the country; so I hinted to +Lydia that as it seemed difficult to get her a young +husband, it would be better for her to marry a rich +old one. At that time Lydia was in love with, and +almost engaged to, Count Ercole Ferruci, a penniless +Italian nobleman, who courted my pretty girl +less for her beauty than for her supposed wealth. +When I suggested that Lydia should marry Vrain, +she refused at first to entertain the idea; but afterwards, +seeing that the man was old and weak, she +thought it would be a good thing as his wife to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>inherit his money, and then, as his widow, to marry +Ferruci. I think, also, that the pointed dislike +which Diana Vrain manifested for us both—although +I am bound to say she hated Lydia more +than she did me—had a great deal to do with my +daughter marrying Vrain. However, the end of +it was that Lydia broke off her engagement with +Ferruci—and very mad he was at losing her—and +married Mark Vrain in Florence.</p> + +<p>"After the marriage the old man, who at that +time was quite infatuated with Lydia, made a will +leaving her his assurance money of £20,000, but +the house near Bath, and the land, he left to Diana. +I am bound to say that Lydia behaved very well +in this matter, as she could have had all the money +and land, but she was content with the assurance +money, and did not rob Diana Vrain of her birthright. +Yet Diana hated her, and still hates her; +but I ask any one who reads this confession if my +dear Lyddy is not the better woman of the two? +Who dares to say that such a sweet girl is guilty +of the crimes she is charged with?</p> + +<p>"Well, the marriage took place, and we all journeyed +home to Berwin Manor; but here things went +from bad to worse. Old Vrain took again to his +morphia, and nothing would restrain him; then +Lydia and Diana fought constantly, and each +wished the other out of the house. I tried to keep +the peace, and blamed Lyddy—who is no saint, I +admit—for the way in which she was treating +Diana. With Miss Vrain I got on very well, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>tried to make things easy for her; but in the end +the ill-will between her and my Lydia became so +strong that Diana left the house, and went out to +Australia to live with some relatives.</p> + +<p>"So Lydia and I and old Vrain were left alone, +and I thought that everything would be right. So +it would have been if Lydia had not put matters +wrong again by inviting Ferruci over to stay. But +she would insist upon doing so, and although I +begged and prayed and commanded her not to have +so dangerous a man in the house, she held her own; +and in the face of my remonstrances, and those of +her husband, Count Ferruci came to stay with us.</p> + +<p>"From the moment he entered the house there +was nothing but trouble. Vrain became jealous, +and, mad with drugs he took, often treated Lydia +with cruelty and violence, and she came to me for +protection. I spoke to Vrain, and he insulted me, +wishing to turn me out of the house; but for Lydia's +sake I remained. Then a Miss Tyler came to stay, +and falling in love with Count Ferruci, grew jealous +of Lydia, and made trouble with Vrain. The +end of it was that after a succession of scenes, in +which the old man behaved like the lunatic he was, +he left the house, and not one of us knew where he +went to. That was the last Lydia saw of her husband.</p> + +<p>"After that trouble I insisted that Count Ferruci +should leave the house; also Miss Tyler. They +both did, but came back at times to pay Lydia a +visit. We tried to find Vrain, but could not, as he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>had vanished altogether. Ferruci, I saw, was in +love with Lydia, and she with him, but neither the +one nor the other hinted at a future marriage should +Vrain die. I do not say that Lydia was a fond wife +to Vrain, but he treated her so badly that he could +not expect her to be; and I dare say I am the one to +blame all through, as I made Lydia marry Vrain +when she loved Ferruci. But I did it all for the +best, so as to get money for my dear girl; and if it +has turned out for the worst, my inordinate affection +for my child is to blame. All I have done has been +for Lydia's sake; all Ferruci did was for Lydia's +sake, as he truly loved her; but I swear by all that +I hold most holy that Lydia knew not how either +of us was working to secure her happiness. Well, +Ferruci is dead, and I am in jail, so we have paid +in full for our wickedness.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea of getting rid of Vrain until one +day Ferruci took me aside and told me that he had +found Vrain at Salisbury. He stated that the man +was still taking morphia, but in spite of his excesses +had so strong a constitution that it appeared he +would live for many years. The Count then said +that he loved Lydia dearer than life, and wished +to marry her if Vrain could be got out of the way. +I cried out against murder being done, as I never +entertained such an idea for a moment; but Ferruci +denied that he wished to harm the man. He +wanted him put away in a lunatic asylum, and when +I asked him how even then he could marry Lydia, +he suggested his scheme of substituting a sickly and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>dying man for Vrain. The scheme—which was +entirely invented by the Count—was as follows:</p> + +<p>"Ferruci said that in a minor London theatre he +had seen an actor called Clear, who was wonderfully +like Vrain, save that he had no scar on the +cheek, and had a moustache, whereas Vrain was +always clean-shaved. He had made the acquaintance +of the actor—Michael Clear was his full +name—and of his wife. They proved to be hard +up and mercenary, so Ferruci had no difficulty in +gaining over both for his purpose. For a certain +sum of money (which was to be paid to Mrs. Clear +when her husband was dead and the Count, married +to Lydia, was possessed of the assurance money) +Clear agreed to shave off his moustache and personate +Vrain. Ferruci, who was something of a +chemist, created by means of some acid a scar on +Clear's cheek like that on Vrain's, so that he resembled +my son-in-law in every way save that he +had lost one little finger.</p> + +<p>"Ferruci wanted me to join him in the conspiracy +so that I could watch Clear impersonating Vrain, +while he himself kept his eye on the real Vrain, who +was to be received into Mrs. Clear's house at Bayswater +and passed off as her husband. All Mrs. +Clear wanted was the money, as—long since wearied +of her drunken husband—she did not care if he +lived or died. Clear, on his part, knowing that he +could not live long, was quite willing to play the +part of Vrain on condition that he had plenty to +eat and drink, and could live in idleness and lux<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>ury. +His wishes in this direction cost us a pretty +penny, as he bought everything of the best.</p> + +<p>"To this plot I refused consent until I saw how +Vrain was: so when Ferruci brought him from Salisbury—where +he was hiding—to London, I had an +interview with him. He proved to be so stupefied +with drugs that he hardly knew me, so, seeing that +my Lydia would get no good out of her life by being +tied to such a husband, I determined that I would +assist Ferruci, on the understanding, of course, that +Vrain was to be well looked after in every way. +We agreed that when Clear died, and his body was +identified as Vrain's, that the real man should be +put in an asylum, which was—and I am sure every +one will agree with me—the best place for him.</p> + +<p>"All this being arranged, I went out to look for +a house in a secluded part of the town, in which +Clear—under the name of Berwin—should live until +he died as Vrain. I did not wish to see about +the house in my new character, lest I should be +recognised, if there was any trouble over the assurance +money; to complicate matters, I determined +to disguise myself as the real Vrain. Of course, +Clear personated Vrain as Lydia had last seen him, +that is, clean-shaven, and neat in his dress. But +the real Vrain, neglecting his personal appearance, +had cultivated a long, white beard, and wore a black +velvet skull-cap to conceal a baldness which had +come upon him. I disguised myself in this fashion, +therefore, and went to Pimlico under the name of +Wrent."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>THE CONFESSION (<i>Continued</i>)</h3> + + +<p>"In Geneva Square, Pimlico, I found the house +I wanted. It was No. 13, and was said to be haunted, +as cries had been heard in it at night, and lights +had been seen flitting from window to window when +no one was in the house. I looked at it without entering, +or calling on the landlord, and then I went +into Jersey Street to see the back. The house in +the same section with it was kept by a Mrs. Bensusan, +who took in lodgers. Her rooms were vacant, +and as it suited me very well that I should be a +neighbour to Clear, I took the rooms. They proved—as +I shall explain—better for our purpose than +I was aware of.</p> + +<p>"When I told Ferruci of my discovery, he gave +Clear money and made him hire the house and furnish +two rooms for himself. I supplied the money. +In this way Clear, calling himself Berwin, which +was the name of Vrain's house in the country, came +to live in Pimlico. We also removed the real Vrain +to Mrs. Clear's at Bayswater, and he passed as her +husband. So weak were his brains, and so cowed +was his spirit, that there was no difficulty in keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>ing +him in the house, and the neighbours were told +merely that Clear was ill.</p> + +<p>"For my part, I took up my abode in Jersey +Street under the name of Wrent, and met Clear +outside on occasions when it was necessary for me +to see him; but I never entered the house—for obvious +reasons.</p> + +<p>"I was constantly afraid lest Clear, in his drunken +fits—for he was always more or less drunk—should +reveal our secret, and I took as my bedroom +an apartment in Mrs. Bensusan's out of the window +of which I could overlook the back of No. 13. One +night, when I was watching, I saw a dark figure +glide into Mrs. Bensusan's yard and climb over +the fence, only to disappear. I was terribly alarmed, +and wondering what was wrong, I put on my +clothes and hurried downstairs into the yard. Also +I climbed over the fence into the yard of No. 13. +Here I could not see where the figure had disappeared +to, as the doors and windows at the back +of the house were all locked. I could not conjecture +who the woman was—for it was a woman I +saw—who had entered, or why she had done so, or +in what way she had gained admission.</p> + +<p>"While I was thus thinking I saw the woman +again. She apparently rose out of the earth, and +after closing what appeared to be a trap-door, she +made for the fence. I stopped her before she got +there, and found to my surprise that she was a red-headed +servant of Mrs. Bensusan's—a kind of +gypsy, very clever, and—I think—with much evil +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>in her. She was alarmed at being discovered, and +begged me not to tell on her. For my own sake, +I promised not to do so, but made her explain how +she got into the house, and why she entered it. Then +she told me an extraordinary tale.</p> + +<p>"For some years, she said, she had been with +Mrs. Bensusan, who had taken her from the gypsies +to civilise her, and hating the restraint of civilised +life, she had been in the habit of roaming about +at night. Knowing that the house at the back was +unoccupied, this Rhoda—for that is her name—climbed +over the fence and tried to get into it, but +found the doors and windows bolted and barred.</p> + +<p>"Then one night she saw a kind of grated window +amid the grass, and as this proved not to be +bolted, she pulled it open. Taking a candle with +her, she went on a voyage of discovery, and dropped +through this hole some distance into a disused cellar. +Only a cat could have got in safely, for the +height was considerable; and, indeed, Rhoda did +not risk that mode of entrance again, for, finding +a ladder in the cellar, which, I presume, had been +used to get at the higher bins of wine, she placed +this against the aperture, and thus was enabled +to ascend and descend without difficulty. Frequently +by this means she entered the empty house, and +went from room to room with her candle, singing +gypsy songs as she wandered. So here I had found +the ghost of No. 13, although I don't suppose this +impish gypsy girl knew as much. She haunted the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>house just to amuse herself, when fat Mrs. Bensusan +thought she was safe in bed.</p> + +<p>"I asked Rhoda why she had entered the house +on that particular night when I had caught her. +She confessed that she had seen some articles of silver +in Clear's rooms which she wished to steal; but +on this occasion he had locked the door—a thing +which he did not always do in his drunken humours—and +so Rhoda was returning disappointed. After +this confession I made her go back to her own house +and promised to keep her secret. I also told her +that if she held her tongue I would give her a +present. For this purpose I made Ferruci buy me +a cloak lined with rabbit skins, as Rhoda on her +night excursions wanted something to keep her +warm. When Ferruci gave it to me, and it was +lying in my room, Mrs. Clear came one night to see +me, and finding it cold, she borrowed the cloak to +wrap round her. She kept it for some time, and +brought it back on Christmas Eve, when I gave it +next day to Rhoda. It was Ferruci who bought +the cloak, not I; and it was purchased for Rhoda, +not for Mrs. Clear.</p> + +<p>"The next night I entered No. 13 by the cellarway, +and found it of great advantage, as I could +visit Clear without exciting suspicion, and so keep +an eye on him. At first he was alarmed by my unexpected +appearance, but when I showed him the +secret way, he made use of it also. We used it only +on dark nights, and it was for this reason that we +were not noticed by the neighbours. It would never +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>have done for any one of us to be seen climbing over +the fence. Mrs. Clear once visited her husband, +and had a quarrel with him about his drinking. It +was her shadow and Clear's which Denzil saw on +the blind. As soon as they heard his ring they both +went out the back way, and in climbing hurriedly +over the fence Mrs. Clear tore her veil. It was a +portion of this which Denzil found.</p> + +<p>"On that night, Clear, after leaving his wife, +entered the square by the front, and so met with +Denzil, much to the latter's surprise. I was very +angry when Clear showed Denzil over the house; +but he said that the young man was very suspicious, +and he only showed him the house to prove that +there was no one in it, and that he must have been +mistaken about the shadows on the blind. Notwithstanding +this explanation, I did not approve of +Clear's act, nor, indeed, of his acquaintance with +Denzil.</p> + +<p>"For some months matters went on in this way. +Clear remained in the Silent House, drinking himself +to death; Mrs. Clear looked after Vrain in her +Bayswater house; and I, in my old-man disguise, +remained in Jersey Street, although at times I left +there and went to see my daughter. All this time +Lydia had no idea of what we were preparing. +Then I began to grow wearied of the position, for +Clear proved tougher than we anticipated, and +showed no signs of dying. In despair, I thought I +would give him the means to kill himself.</p> + +<p>"Mind, I did not wish to murder him myself; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>but the man, when in his drinking fits, thought he +was attacked by enemies, and when in a melancholic +frame of mind, on recovery, would frequently hint +at suicide. I therefore thought that if a weapon +were left within his reach he might kill himself. +I don't defend my conduct in this case, but surely +this drunken scoundrel was better dead than alive. +In choosing a weapon, I wished to select one that +would implicate Ferruci rather than myself, in case +there was any trouble over the matter; so I chose +for my purpose a stiletto which hung by a parti-coloured +ribbon on the walls of the library at Berwin +Manor. I fancied that the stiletto, having +been bought in Florence, and Ferruci coming from +Florence, he, if anyone—should any of these facts +come to light—would be credited with giving it +to Clear.</p> + +<p>"I took this stiletto from Berwin Manor some +time before Christmas, and, bringing it up to town, +I left it, on the day before Christmas, on the table +in Clear's sitting-room. That was at nine o'clock +in the night, and that was when I last saw him +alive. Who killed him I know no more than any +one else.</p> + +<p>"On Christmas Eve I was ill, and wrote to Lydia +to come up. She met me at the Pegalls', but as I +felt ill, I left there at six o'clock, and Lydia stayed +with the family all night. At seven o'clock Mrs. +Clear came to me with Ferruci, and brought back +the cloak which I gave afterwards to Rhoda. She +wanted to see her husband again, but I refused to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>let her risk the visit. Ferruci came to tell me that +he was arranging to place Vrain—who was becoming +too violent to be restrained—in the private +asylum of Dr. Jorce, at Hampstead. Mrs. Clear +was to go with him, and we conversed about the +matter.</p> + +<p>"Ferruci went away first, as he desired to see +Clear, and for that purpose waited about until it +was darker, and went into the back yard shortly +after eight o'clock. There he was seen by Rhoda +as he was about to climb the fence, and, not knowing +it was the girl, he took fright and ran out of the +yard into Jersey Street. Here he found Mrs. Clear, +who had left me and was waiting for him, and +the pair went off to see Dr. Jorce at Hampstead. +I believe they remained there all night.</p> + +<p>"Left alone, I climbed over the fence about nine +o'clock, and saw Clear. He was celebrating Christmas +Eve by drinking heavily, and I was unable to +bring him to reason. I therefore left the stiletto +which I had brought with me on the table, and +returned to my house in Jersey Street. I never saw +him alive again. I went to bed and slept all night, +so I was aware of nothing in connection with the +death until late on Christmas Day. Then Mrs. +Bensusan was told by Miss Greeb, the landlady of +Denzil, that the tenant of No. 13 had been murdered. +I fancied that he had killed himself in a +fit of melancholia, with the stiletto I had left on +his table; but I did not dare to go near the house +to find this out.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p><p>"Afterwards I learned that the doctor who examined +the body was of the opinion that Clear had +been murdered; and, being afraid about the police +taking up the case, I paid Mrs. Bensusan a week's +rent and left her house two days after Christmas. +I returned to Berwin Manor, and shortly afterwards +Ferruci joined me there, as he had successfully +incarcerated Vrain in the asylum under the +name of Michael Clear.</p> + +<p>"When the advertisement came out, it was I +who hinted to Lydia that the dead man—seeing +that he was called Berwin—might be her husband. +We went up to town: Lydia identified the body of +Clear as her husband in all innocence—for after +death the man looked more like Vrain than ever; +and in due time the assurance money was obtained.</p> + +<p>"I do not think there is anything more to tell, +save that I did not know that Mrs. Clear had betrayed +me. I could not pay her the money, as I +could not get it from Lydia. I told Lydia I was +going to Paris, but in reality I was hunting for +Rhoda, who had run away from Jersey Street. I +fancied she might betray us, and wished to make +things safe with her. Before I found her, however, +I saw in the papers that Ferruci had committed +suicide; also that Lydia—who had gone to +Dover to meet me, thinking I was returning from +Paris—had been arrested. Then I saw Mrs. Clear's +advertisement saying she would betray me if I did +not pay the money. I consented to meet her in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>order to implore her silence, and so fell into the +clutches of the law.</p> + +<p>"I may state that I did not kill Clear, as I never +saw him after nine o'clock, and then he was alive. +In spite of what the doctor said, I am still inclined +to think he killed himself. Now I have made a +clean breast of it—I am willing to be punished; but +I hope Lydia will be set free, for whosoever is +guilty, she is innocent. I have been an unlucky +man, and I remain one at this moment when I sign +myself for the last time, <span class="smcap">Jabez Clyne</span>."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Needless to say, both Link and Denzil were +greatly surprised at this confession, which revealed +all things save the one they wished to know.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of this idea of suicide?" +asked Lucian.</p> + +<p>"It is quite out of the question," replied the detective +decidedly. "The doctor who examined the +body said that it was impossible the man could have +committed suicide. The position of the wound +shows that; also the power of the stroke. No man +could drive a stiletto so dexterously and strongly +into the heart. Also the room was in confusion, +which points to a struggle, and the stiletto is missing. +It was not suicide, but murder, and I believe +either Clyne or Ferruci killed the man."</p> + +<p>"But Ferruci was not——"</p> + +<p>"He was not there after ten," interrupted Link, +"but he was there about eight. I dare say when +Rhoda saw him he was coming back after having +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>committed the deed, and Clyne says the stiletto was +not there at the time just to screen him."</p> + +<p>"It is of little use to screen the dead," said Lucian. +"I think only one person can tell the truth +about this murder, and that is Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"I'm looking for her, Mr. Denzil."</p> + +<p>This was easy saying, but harder doing, for +weeks passed away, and in spite of all the efforts of +the police Rhoda could not be found. Then one +morning the detective, much excited, burst into +Lucian's rooms waving a paper over his head.</p> + +<p>"A confession!" he cried. "Another confession!"</p> + +<p>"Of whom?" asked Lucian, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Of Rhoda!" replied Link excitedly. "She has +confessed! It was Rhoda who killed Michael +Clear!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY</h3> + + +<p>Of all the news concerning the truth of Clear's +death, this was the last which Lucian expected to +hear. He stood staring at the excited face of the +detective in wide-eyed surprise, and for the moment +could not find his voice.</p> + +<p>"It is true, I tell you!" cried Link, sitting down +and smoothing out the paper which he carried. +"Rhoda, and none other, killed the man!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure, Link?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. This," flourishing the paper, +"is her dying confession."</p> + +<p>"Her dying confession?" repeated the barrister +blankly. "Is she dead, also?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It is a long story, Mr. Denzil. Sit down, +and I'll tell it to you. As you have had so much +to do with the beginning of the case, it is only fair +that you should know the end, and a strange end +it is."</p> + +<p>Without a word Lucian sat down, feeling quite +confused, for in no way could he guess how Clear +had come by his death at the hands of Rhoda. He +had suspected Lydia as guilty of the crime; he had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>credited Ferruci with its commission, and he had +been certain of the guilt of Clyne, <i>alias</i> Wrent; but +to discover that the red-headed servant was the culprit +entirely bewildered him. She had no motive +to kill the man; she had given evidence freely in +the matter, and in all respects had acted as an innocent +person. So this was why she had left Jersey +Street? It was a fear of being arrested for the +crime which had driven her into the wilds. But, as +Lucian privately thought, she need not have fled, +for—so far as he could see—beyond the startling +announcement of Link, there was no evidence to +connect her with the matter. It was most extraordinary.</p> + +<p>"I see you are astonished," said Link, with a +nod; "so was I. Of all folk, I least suspected that +imp of a girl. The truth would never have been +known, had she not confessed at the last moment; +for even now I cannot see, on the face of it, any +evidence—save her own confession—to inculpate +her in the matter. So you see, Mr. Denzil, the +mystery of this man's death, which we have been +so anxious to solve, has not been explained by you, +or discovered by me, but has been brought to light +by chance, which, after all, is the great detective. +You may well look astonished," repeated the man +slowly; "I am—immensely."</p> + +<p>"Let me hear the confession, Link!"</p> + +<p>"Wait one moment. I'll tell you how it came +to be made, and then I'll relate the story in my own +fashion, as the way in which the confession is writ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>ten +is too muddled for you to understand clearly. +Still, it shows plainly enough that Clyne, for all our +suspicions, is innocent."</p> + +<p>"And Rhoda, the sharp servant girl, guilty," said +Lucian, reflectively. "I never should have thought +that she was involved in the matter. How the +deuce did she come to confess?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Link, clearing his throat as a preliminary +to his narrative, "it seems that Mr. Bensusan, +in a fit of philanthropy, picked up this +wretched girl in the country. She belonged to some +gypsies, but as her parents were dead, and the child +a burden, the tribe were glad to get rid of her. +Rhoda Stanley—that is her full name—was taken +to London by Mrs. Bensusan, who tried to civilise +her."</p> + +<p>"I don't think she succeeded very well, Link. +Rhoda, with her cunning ways and roaming about +at night, was always a savage at heart. In spite +of what Clyne says in his confession, I believe she +took a delight in turning No. 13 into a haunted +house with her shrieking and her flitting candles. +How she must have enjoyed herself when she heard +the talk about the ghost!"</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt she did, Mr. Denzil, but even +those delights wearied her, and she longed to get +back to the free gypsy life. When she found—through +you, sir—that the police wanted to know +too much about Clear's death, she left Mrs. Bensusan +in the lurch, and tramped off down to the New +Forest, where she picked up again with her tribe."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p><p>"How did her mistress take her desertion?"</p> + +<p>"Very much to heart, as she had treated the +young savage very kindly, and ought to have received +more gratitude. Perhaps when she hears +how her adopted child wandered about at night, and +ended by killing Clear, she will be glad she is dead +and buried. Yet, I don't know. Women are wonderfully +soft-hearted, and certainly Rhoda is +thought no end of by that fat woman."</p> + +<p>"Well! well!" said Lucian, impatient of this digression. +"So Rhoda went back to her tribe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; and as she was sharp, clever, and, +moreover, came with some money which she had +stolen from Mrs. Bensusan—for she added theft to +ingratitude—she was received with open arms. +With her gypsy cousins she went about in the true +gypsy style, but, not being hardened to the outdoor +life in wet weather, she fell ill."</p> + +<p>"Civilisation made her delicate, I suppose," said +Denzil grimly.</p> + +<p>"Exactly; she was not fit for the tent life after +having lived for so long under a comfortable roof. +She fell ill with inflammation of the lungs, and in +a wonderfully short space of time she died."</p> + +<p>"When did she confess her crime?"</p> + +<p>"I'm coming to that, sir. When she was dying +she sent two gypsies to the nearest magistrate—who +happened to be the vicar of the parish in which +the tribe were then encamped—and asked him to +see her on a matter of life and death. The vicar +came at once, and when he became aware that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>Rhoda was the girl wanted in the Vrain case—for +he had read all about her in the papers—he became +very interested. He took down the confession of +the wretched girl, had it signed by two witnesses +and Rhoda herself, and sent it up to Scotland +Yard."</p> + +<p>"And this confession——"</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said Link, pointing to the manuscript +on the table; "but it is too long to read, so +I shall just tell you briefly what Rhoda confessed, +and how she committed the crime."</p> + +<p>"Go on! I am most anxious to hear, Link!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Denzil, you know that Rhoda was +in the habit of visiting No. 13 by night and amusing +herself by wandering about the empty rooms, +although I don't know what pleasure she found in +doing so. It seems that when Clear became the +tenant of the house, Rhoda was very angry, as his +presence interfered with her midnight capers. However, +on seeing his rooms—for Clear found her one +night, and took her in to show them to her—she +was filled with admiration, and with true gypsy +instinct wanted to steal some of the ornaments. She +tried to pocket a silver paper-knife on that very +night Clear was so hospitable to her, but she was +not sharp enough, and the man saw the theft. In +a rage at her dishonesty he turned her out of the +room, and swore that he would thrash her if she +came into his presence again."</p> + +<p>"Did the threat keep Rhoda away?"</p> + +<p>"Not it. I am sure you saw enough of that wild<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>cat +to know nothing would frighten her. She certainly +did not thrust herself personally on Clear, +but whenever his back was turned she took to stealing +things out of his room, when he was foolish +enough to leave the door open. Clear was much +enraged, and complained to Clyne—known to +Rhoda as Wrent—who in his turn read the girl a +sharp lecture.</p> + +<p>"But having shown Clyne the cellarway into the +house, Miss Rhoda knew too much, and laughed +in Clyne's face. He did not dare to make her thefts +public, or complain to Mrs. Bensusan, lest Rhoda +should tell of the connection between him and the +tenant of the Silent House, who passed under the +name of Berwin. Therefore, he told Clear to keep +his sitting-room door locked."</p> + +<p>"A wise precaution, with that imp about," said +Lucian. "I hope Clear was sensible enough to adopt +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and no. When he was sober he locked the +door, and when drunk he left it open, and Rhoda +looted at will. And now comes the more important +part of the confession. You remember that Clyne +left the stiletto from Berwin Manor on Clear's +table?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, with the amiable intention that the poor +devil should kill himself. He left it on Christmas +Eve, too—a pleasant time for a man to commit +suicide!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, the intention was horrible!" said +Mr. Link, gravely. "Some people might think such +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>an act incredible; but I have seen so much of the +worst side of human nature that I am not surprised. +Clyne was too cowardly to kill the man +himself, so he thought to make Clear his own executioner +by leaving the stiletto in his way. Well, +sir, the weapon proved to be useful in the way it +was intended by Clyne, for Clear was killed with +that very weapon."</p> + +<p>"And by Rhoda!" said Lucian, nodding. "I +see! How did she get hold of it?"</p> + +<p>"By accident. When Wrent—I mean Clyne—and +Mrs. Bensusan went to bed on Christmas Eve, +Rhoda thought she would have some of her devil +dances in the haunted house; so she slipped out of +bed and into the yard, and dropped down into the +cellar, whence she went up to Clear's rooms."</p> + +<p>"Was Clear in bed?"</p> + +<p>"No; but he was in his bedroom, and, according +to Rhoda, furiously drunk. You know that Clyne +said the man had been drinking all day. On this +night he had left his sitting-room door open, and +the lamp burning. On the table was the silver-handled +stiletto, with the ribbon; and when Rhoda +peered into the room to see what she could pick up, +she thought she would like this pretty toy. She +stole forward softly and took the stiletto, but before +she could get back to the door, Clear, who +had been watching her, reeled out and rushed at +her."</p> + +<p>"Did she run away?"</p> + +<p>"She couldn't. Clear was between her and the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>door. She ran round the room, upsetting everything, +for she thought he would kill her in his +drunken rage. Don't you remember, Mr. Denzil, +how disorderly the room was? Well, Clear got +Rhoda into a corner, and was going to strike her; +she had the stiletto still in her hand, and held it +point outward to save herself from the blow. She +thought when he saw the weapon he would not +dare to come nearer. However, either he did not +see the stiletto, or was too drunk to feel fear, for +he stumbled and fell forward, so that the dagger +ran right into his heart. In a moment he fell dead, +before he had time, as Rhoda says, to even utter +a cry."</p> + +<p>"So it was an accident, after all?" said Lucian.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, quite an accident," replied Link, "and +I can see very plainly how it took place. Of course, +Rhoda was terrified at what she had done—although +she really was not to blame—and leaving +the dead man, ran away with the stiletto. She +dropped the ribbon off it near the cellar door as +she was running away, and there Mrs. Kebby found +it."</p> + +<p>"What did she do with the stiletto?"</p> + +<p>"She had it in her room, and when she left Mrs. +Bensusan she carried it with her down the country. +In proof of the truth, she gave it to the vicar +who wrote down her confession, and he sent it up +with the papers to Scotland Yard. Queer case, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p><p>"Very queer, Link. I thought everybody was +guilty but Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the detective, significantly, "it is always +the least suspected person who is guilty. I +could have sworn that Clyne was the man. Now +it seems that he is innocent, so instead of hanging +he will only be imprisoned for his share in the conspiracy."</p> + +<p>"He may escape that way," said Lucian drily, +"but, morally speaking, I regard him as more guilty +than Rhoda."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE END OF IT ALL</h3> + + +<p>Two years after the discovery of Rhoda's guilt, +Mr. and Mrs. Denzil were seated in the garden of +Berwin Manor. It was a perfect summer evening, +at the sunset hour, something like that evening +when, in the same garden, almost at the same time, +Lucian had asked Diana to be his wife. But between +then and now twenty-four months had +elapsed, and many things had taken place of more +or less importance to the young couple.</p> + +<p>The mystery of Clear's death had been solved; +Lydia had been set free as innocent of crime; her +father, found guilty of conspiracy to obtain the +assurance money, had been condemned to a long +term of imprisonment, and, what most concerned +Lucian and Diana, Mark Vrain had really and truly +gone the way of all flesh.</p> + +<p>After the conclusion of the Vrain case Lucian +had become formally engaged to Diana, but it was +agreed between them that the marriage should not +take place for some time on account of her father's +health. After his discharge as cured from the asylum +of Dr. Jorce, Miss Vrain had taken her father +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>down to his own place in the country, and there +tended him with the most affectionate solicitude, +in the hope that he would recover his health. But +the hope was vain, for by his over-indulgence in +morphia, his worrying and wandering, and irregular +mode of life, Vrain had completely shattered his +health. He lapsed into a state of second childhood, +and, being deprived of the drugs which formerly +had excited him to a state of frenzy, sank into a +pitiable condition. For days he would remain without +speaking to any one, and even ceased to take a +pleasure in his books. Finally his limbs became +paralysed, and so he spent the last few months of +his wretched life in a bath-chair, being wheeled +round the garden.</p> + +<p>Still, his constitution was so strong that he lived +for quite twelve months after his return to his home, +and died unexpectedly in his sleep. Diana was not +sorry when he passed so easily away, for death was +a merciful release of his tortured soul from his +worn-out body. So Mark Vrain died, and was buried, +and after the funeral Diana went abroad, with +Miss Priscilla Barbar for a companion.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Lucian stayed in grimy, smoky +London, and worked hard at his profession. He +was beginning to be known, and in time actually received +a brief or two, with which he did his best +in court. Still, he was far from being the successful +pleader he hoped to be, for law, of all professions, +is one which demands time and industry for +the attainment of any degree of excellence. It is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>rarely that a young lawyer can go to sleep and wake +to find himself famous; he must crawl rather than +run. With diligence and punctuality, and observance +of every chance, in time the wished-for goal is +reached, although that goal, in nine cases out of ten, +is a very moderate distance off. Lucian did not sigh +for a judgeship, or for a seat on the Woolsack; he +was content to be a barrister with a good practice, +and perhaps a Q.C.-ship in prospect. However, +during the year of Diana's mourning he did so well +that he felt justified in asking her to marry him +when she returned. Diana, on her side, saw no obstacle +to this course, so she consented.</p> + +<p>"If you are not rich, my dear, I am," she said, +when Lucian alleged his poverty as the only bar +to their union, "and as money gives me no pleasure +without you, I do not care to stay in Berwin Manor +in lonely spinsterhood. I shall marry you whenever +you choose."</p> + +<p>And Lucian, taking advantage of this gracious +permission, did choose to be married, and that +speedily; so within two years after the final closing +of the Vrain case they became man and wife. At +the time they were seated in the garden, at the +hour of sunset, they had only lately returned from +their honeymoon, and were now talking over past +experiences. Miss Priscilla, who had been left in +charge of the Manor during their absence, had welcomed +them back with much joy, as she looked upon +the match as one of her own making. Now she +had gone inside, on the understanding that two are +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>company and three are none, and the young couple +were left alone. Hand in hand, after the foolish +fashion of lovers, they sat under a leafy oak tree, +and the sunlight glowed redly on their happy faces. +After a short silence Lucian looked at the face of +his wife and laughed.</p> + +<p>"What is amusing you, dear?" said Mrs. Denzil, +with a sympathetic smile.</p> + +<p>"My thoughts were rather pleasant than amusing," +replied Lucian, giving the hand that lay in +his a squeeze, "but I was thinking of Hans Andersen's +tale of the Elder Mother Tree, and of the +old couple who sat enjoying their golden wedding +under the linden, with the red sunlight shining on +their silver crowns."</p> + +<p>"We are under an oak and wear no crowns," replied +Diana in her turn, "but we are quite as happy, +I think, although it is not our golden wedding."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that will come some day, Diana."</p> + +<p>"Fifty years, my dear; it's a long way off yet," +said Mrs. Denzil dubiously.</p> + +<p>"I am glad it is, for I shall have (D.V.,) fifty +years of happiness with you to look forward to. +Upon my word, Diana, I think you deserve happiness, +after all the trouble you have had."</p> + +<p>"With you I am sure to be happy, Lucian, but +other people, poor souls, are not so well off."</p> + +<p>"What other people?"</p> + +<p>"Jabez Clyne, for one."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Lucian, seriously, "I hope I +am not a hard man, but I really cannot find it in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>my heart to pity Clyne. He was—and I dare say is—a +scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"I don't deny that he acted badly," sighed Diana, +"but it was for his daughter's sake, you know."</p> + +<p>"There is a limit even to paternal affection, +Diana. And putting aside the wickedness of the +whole conspiracy, I cannot pardon a man who deliberately +put a weapon in the way of a man almost +insane with drink, in order that he might kill himself. +The idea was diabolically wicked, my dear, +and I think that Jabez Clyne, <i>alias</i> Wrent, quite +deserves the long imprisonment he received."</p> + +<p>"At all events, the Sirius Company got back their +money, Lucian."</p> + +<p>"So much as Lydia had not spent they got back, +Diana; but when your father actually died they +had to part with it very soon again, and some of it +has gone into Lydia's pocket after all."</p> + +<p>Diana blushed. "It was only right, dear," she +said, apologetically. "When my father made his +new will, leaving it all to me, I did not think that +Lydia, however badly she treated him, should be +left absolutely penniless. And you know, Lucian, +you agreed that I should share the assurance money +with her."</p> + +<p>"I did," replied Denzil. "Of two evils I chose +the least, for if Lydia had not got a portion of +the money she would have been quite capable of +trying to upset the second will on the ground that +Mr. Vrain was insane."</p> + +<p>"Papa was not insane," reproved Diana. "He +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>was weak, I admit, but at the time he made that +will he had all his senses. Besides, after all the +scandal of the case, I don't think Lydia would have +dared to go to law about it. Still, it was best to +give her the money, and I hear from Miss Priscilla +that Lydia is now in Italy, and proposes to marry +an Italian prince."</p> + +<p>"She has flown higher than a count, then. Poor +Ferruci killed himself for her sake."</p> + +<p>"For his own, rather," exclaimed Mrs. Denzil +energetically. "He knew that if he lived he would +be punished by imprisonment, so chose to kill himself +rather than suffer such dishonour. I believe he +truly loved Lydia, certainly, but as he wanted the +assurance money, I fancy he sinned quite as much +for his own sake as for Lydia's."</p> + +<p>"No doubt; and I dare say Lydia loved him, +after her own fashion; yet she seems to have forgotten +him pretty soon, and—as you say—intends +to marry a prince. I don't envy his highness."</p> + +<p>"She has no heart, so I dare say she will be happy +as such women ever are," said Diana contemptuously, +"yet her happiness comes out of much evil. +If she had not married my father, her own would +not now be in prison, nor would Count Ferruci and +Rhoda be dead."</p> + +<p>"Ferruci, perhaps, might still be alive, and her +husband," assented Lucian, "but I have my doubts +about Rhoda. She was a wicked, precocious little +imp, that girl, and sooner or later would have come +to a bad end. The death of Clear was due to an +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>accident, I admit; but Rhoda has still one person +who laments over her, for, although Mrs. Bensusan +knows the truth, she always thinks of that red-haired +minx as a kind of martyr, who was led into +wicked ways by Clyne, <i>alias</i> Wrent."</p> + +<p>"I am sure Mrs. Clear doesn't think so."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Clear has got quite enough to think about +in remembering how narrowly she escaped imprisonment +for her share in that shameful conspiracy. +If she had not turned Queen's evidence, she would +have been punished as Clyne was; as it is, she just +escaped by an accident. Still, if it had not been +for her, we should never have discovered the truth. +I would never have suspected Clyne, who was always +so meek and mild. Even that visit he paid +to me to lament over his daughter's probable marriage +to Ferruci was a trick to find out how much +I knew."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think he hated Ferruci?"</p> + +<p>"No; I am sure he did not. He acted a part +to find out what I was doing. If Mrs. Clear had +not betrayed him we should never have discovered +the conspiracy."</p> + +<p>"And if Rhoda had not spoken, the mystery of +Clear's death would never have been solved," said +Diana, "although she only confessed at the eleventh +hour, and when she was dying."</p> + +<p>"I think Link was pleased that the mystery was +solved in so unexpected a way," said Lucian, laughing. +"He never forgave my finding out so much +without his aid. He ascribes the ending of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>whole matter to chance, and I dare say he is right."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Mrs. Denzil, who had no great +love for the detective. "He certainly left everything +to chance. Twice he gave up the case.".</p> + +<p>"And twice I gave it up," said Denzil. "If it +had not been for you, dear, I should never have +gone on with what seemed to be a hopeless task. +But when I first met you you induced me to continue +the search for the culprit, and again when, by the +evidence of the missing finger, you did not believe +your father was dead."</p> + +<p>"Well, you worked; I worked; Link worked," +said Diana, philosophically, "and we all three did +our best to discover the truth."</p> + +<p>"Only to let chance discover it in the long run."</p> + +<p>Diana laughed and nodded, but did not contradict +her husband. "Well, my dear," she said, "I +think we have discussed the subject pretty freely, +but there is one thing I should like to know. What +about the Silent House in Pimlico?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Greeb told me the other day that +Peacock is going to pull it down. You know, just +before we were married I took leave of Miss Greeb, +with whom I lodged for a long time. Well, she +gave me a piece of news. She is going to be married, +also, and to whom, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Diana, looking interested, +as women always do in marriage news.</p> + +<p>"To Peacock, who owns nearly all the property +in and about Geneva Square. It will be a splendid +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>match for her, and Mrs. Peacock, will be much richer +than you or I, Diana."</p> + +<p>"But not happier, my dear. I am glad she is +to be married, as she seemed a nice woman, and +made you very comfortable. But why is the Silent +House to be pulled down?"</p> + +<p>"Because no one will live in it."</p> + +<p>"But it is not haunted now. You know it was +discovered that Rhoda was the ghost, and the ghost, +as Miss Greeb suggested, killed Clear."</p> + +<p>"It is haunted now by the ghost of Clear," said +Lucian gravely. "At all events, he was murdered +there, and no one cares to live in the house. I +confess I shouldn't care to live in it myself. So, +Peacock, finding the house unprofitable, has determined +to pull it down."</p> + +<p>"So there is an end to the Silent House of Pimlico," +said Diana, rising and taking her husband's +arm. "Come inside, Lucian. It grows chilly."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tho' winds be cold and nights be drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet love makes warm our hearts, my dear,'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>quoted Lucian, as they went up to the house. "That +is not very good poetry, but it is a beautiful truth, +my love."</p> + +<p>Diana laughed, and looked up proudly into the +bright face of her husband.</p> + +<p>So they went inside, and found that Miss Priscilla +had made the tea, and all were very happy, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>very thankful for their happiness. In this condition, +which is sufficiently pleasant, I think we may +leave them.</p> + + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Silent House, by Fergus Hume + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SILENT HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 19069-h.htm or 19069-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/6/19069/ + +Produced by Geetu Melwani, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Silent House + +Author: Fergus Hume + +Release Date: August 17, 2006 [EBook #19069] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SILENT HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Geetu Melwani, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE +SILENT HOUSE + +BY +FERGUS HUME + + +New York +C. H. DOSCHER + +Copyright, 1907, by +C. H. DOSCHER + + + + +[Illustration: I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be +too happy to place it and myself at your service] + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I--The Tenant of the Silent House 1 + + II--Shadows on the Blind 10 + + III--An Unsatisfactory Explanation 20 + + IV--Mrs. Kebby's Discovery 29 + + V--The Talk of the Town 38 + + VI--Mrs. Vrain's Story 47 + + VII--The Assurance Money 56 + + VIII--Diana Vrain 65 + + IX--A Marriage That Was a Failure 74 + + X--The Parti-Coloured Ribbon 83 + + XI--Further Discoveries 93 + + XII--The Veil and Its Owner 101 + + XIII--Gossip 111 + + XIV--The House in Jersey Street 121 + + XV--Rhoda and the Cloak 131 + + XVI--Mrs. Vrain at Bay 141 + + XVII--A Denial 151 + + XVIII--Who Bought the Cloak? 160 + + XIX--The Defence of Count Ferruci 169 + + XX--A New Development 179 + + XXI--Two Months Pass 187 + + XXII--At Berwin Manor 196 + + XXIII--A Startling Theory 206 + + XXIV--Lucian Is Surprised 215 + + XXV--A Dark Plot 224 + + XXVI--The Other Man's Wife 233 + + XXVII--A Confession 241 + +XXVIII--The Name of the Assassin 252 + + XXIX--Link Sets a Trap 262 + + XXX--Who Fell into the Trap 272 + + XXXI--A Strange Confession 282 + + XXXII--The Confession (_continued_) 291 + +XXXIII--What Rhoda Had to Say 301 + + XXXIV--The End of It All 310 + + + + +THE SILENT HOUSE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE TENANT OF THE SILENT HOUSE + + +Lucian Denzil was a briefless barrister, who so far departed from the +traditions of his brethren of the long robe as not to dwell within the +purlieus of the Temple. For certain private reasons, not unconnected +with economy, he occupied rooms in Geneva Square, Pimlico; and, for the +purposes of his profession, repaired daily, from ten to four, to +Serjeant's Inn, where he shared an office with a friend equally +briefless and poor. + +This state of things sounds hardly enviable, but Lucian, being young and +independent to the extent of L300 a year, was not dissatisfied with his +position. As his age was only twenty-five, there was ample time, he +thought, to succeed in his profession; and, pending that desirable +consummation, he cultivated the muses on a little oatmeal, after the +fashion of his kind. There have been lives less happily circumstanced. + +Geneva Square was a kind of backwater of the great river of town life +which swept past its entrance with speed and clamour without disturbing +the peace within. One long, narrow street led from a roaring +thoroughfare into a silent quadrangle of tall grey houses, occupied by +lodging-house keepers, city clerks and two or three artists, who +represented the Bohemian element of the place. In the centre there was +an oasis of green lawn, surrounded by rusty iron railings the height of +a man, dotted with elms of considerable age, and streaked with narrow +paths of yellow gravel. + +The surrounding houses represented an eminently respectable appearance, +with their immaculately clean steps, white-curtained windows, and neat +boxes of flowers. The windows glittered like diamonds, the door-knobs +and plates shone with a yellow lustre, and there were no sticks, or +straws, or waste paper lying about to mar the tidy look of the square. + +With one exception, Geneva Square was a pattern of all that was +desirable in the way of cleanliness and order. One might hope to find +such a haven in some somnolent cathedral town, but scarcely in the +grimy, smoky, restless metropolis of London. + +The exception to the notable spotlessness of the neighborhood was No. +13, a house in the centre of the side opposite to the entrance. Its +windows were dusty, and without blinds or curtains, there were no +flower-boxes on the ledges, the steps lacked whitewash, and the iron +railings looked rusty for want of paint. Stray straws and scraps of +paper found their way down the area, where the cracked pavement was damp +with green slime. Such beggars as occasionally wandered into the square, +to the scandal of its inhabitants, camped on the doorstep; and the very +door itself presented a battered, dissolute appearance. + +Yet, for all its ill looks and disreputable suggestions, those who dwelt +in Geneva Square would not have seen it furbished up and occupied for +any money. They spoke about it in whispers, with ostentatious +tremblings, and daunted looks, for No. 13 was supposed to be haunted, +and had been empty for over twenty years. By reason of its legend, its +loneliness and grim appearance, it was known as the Silent House, and +formed quite a feature of the place. Murder had been done long ago in +one of its empty, dusty rooms, and it was since then that the victim +walked. Lights, said the ghost-seers, had been seen flitting from window +to window, groans were sometimes heard, and the apparition of a little +old woman in brocaded silk and high-heeled shoes appeared on occasions. +Hence the Silent House bore an uncanny reputation. + +How much truth there was in these stories it is impossible to say; but +sure enough, in spite of a low rental, no tenant would take No. 13 and +face its ghostly terrors. House and apparition and legend had become +quite a tradition, when the whole fantasy was ended in the summer of '95 +by the unexpected occupation of the mansion. Mr. Mark Berwin, a +gentleman of mature age, who came from nobody knew where, rented No. 13, +and established himself therein to lead a strange and lonely life. + +At first, the gossips, strong in ghostly tradition, declared that the +new tenant would not remain a week in the house; but as the week +extended into six months, and Mr. Berwin showed no signs of leaving, +they left off speaking of the ghost and took to discussing the man +himself. In a short space of time quite a collection of stories were +told about the newcomer and his strange ways. + +Lucian heard many of these tales from his landlady. How Mr. Berwin lived +all alone in the Silent House without servant or companion; how he spoke +to none, and admitted no one into the mansion; how he appeared to have +plenty of money, and was frequently seen coming home more or less +intoxicated; and how Mrs. Kebby, the deaf charwoman who cleaned out Mr. +Berwin's rooms, declined to sleep in the house because she considered +that there was something wrong about her employer. + +To such gossip Denzil paid little attention, until his skein of life +became unexpectedly entangled with that of the strange gentleman. The +manner of their meeting was unforeseen and peculiar. + +One foggy November night, Lucian, returning from the theatre, shortly +after eleven o'clock, dismissed his hansom at the entrance to the square +and walked thereinto through the thick mist, trusting to find his way +home by reason of two years' familiarity with the precincts. As it was +impossible to see even the glare of the near gas lamp in the murky air, +Lucian felt his way cautiously along the railings. The square was filled +with fog, dense to the eye and cold to the feel, so that Lucian shivered +with the chill, in spite of the fur coat over his evening clothes. + +As he edged gingerly along, and thought longingly of the fire and supper +awaiting him in his comfortable rooms, he was startled by hearing a +deep, rich voice boom out almost at his feet. To make the phenomenon +still more remarkable, the voice shaped itself into certain well-known +words of Shakespeare: + +"Oh!" boomed this _vox et praeterea nihil_ in rather husky tones, "Oh! +that a man should put an enemy in his mouth to steal away his brains!" +And then through the mist and darkness came the unmistakable sound of +sobs. + +"God bless me!" cried Lucian, leaping back, with shaken nerves. "Who is +this? Who are you?" + +"A lost soul!" wailed the deep voice, "which God will not bless!" And +then came the sobbing again. + +It made Denzil's blood run cold to hear this unseen creature weeping in +the gloom. Moving cautiously in the direction of the sound, he stumbled +against a man with his folded arms resting on the railings, and his face +bent down on his arms. He made no attempt to turn when Lucian touched +him, but with downcast head continued to weep and moan in a very frenzy +of self-pity. + +"Here!" said the young barrister, shaking the stranger by the shoulder, +"what is the matter with you?" + +"Drink!" stuttered the man, suddenly turning with a dramatic gesture. "I +am an object lesson to teetotalers; a warning to topers; a modern helot +made shameful to disgust youth with vice." + +"You had better go home, sir," said Lucian sharply. + +"I can't find home. It is somewhere hereabout, but where, I don't know." + +"You are in Geneva Square," said Denzil, trying to sharpen the dulled +wits of the man. + +"I wish I was in No. 13 of it," sighed the stranger. "Where the deuce is +No. 13? Not in this Cloudcuckooland, anyhow." + +"Oh!" cried Lucian, taking the man's arm. "Come with me. I'll lead you +home, Mr. Berwin." + +Scarcely had the name passed his lips than the stranger drew back +suddenly, with a hasty exclamation. Some suspicion seemed to engender a +mixture of terror and defiance which placed him on his guard against +undue intimacy, even when some undefined fear was knocking at his heart. +"Who are you?" he demanded in a steadier tone. "How do you know my +name?" + +"My name is Denzil, Mr. Berwin, and I live in one of the houses of this +square. As you mention No. 13, I know you can be none other than Mr. +Mark Berwin, the tenant of the Silent House." + +"The dweller in the haunted house," sneered Berwin, evidently relieved, +"who stays there with ghosts, and worse than ghosts." + +"Worse than ghosts?" + +"The phantoms of my own sins, young man. I have sowed folly, and now I +am reaping the crop. I am----" Here his further speech was interrupted +by a fit of coughing, which shook his lean figure severely. At its +conclusion he was so exhausted that he was forced to support himself +against the railings. "A portion of the crop," he murmured. + +Lucian was sorry for the man, who seemed scarcely capable of looking +after himself, and he thought it unwise to leave him in such a plight. +At the same time, he was impatient of lingering in the heart of the +clammy fog at such a late hour; so, as his companion seemed indisposed +to move, he caught him again by the arm without ceremony. The abrupt +action seemed to waken again the fears of Berwin. + +"Where would you take me?" he asked, resisting the gentle force used by +Lucian. + +"To your own house. You will be ill if you stay here." + +"You are not one of them?" asked the man suddenly. + +"One of whom?" + +"One of those who wish to harm me?" + +Denzil began to think he had to do with a madman, and to gain his ends +he spoke to him in a soothing manner, as he would to a child: "I wish to +do you good, Mr. Berwin," said he gently. "Come to your home." + +"Home! home! Ah, God, I have no home!" + +Nevertheless, he gathered himself together, and with his arm in that of +his guide, stumbled along in the thick, chill mist. Lucian knew the +position of No. 13 well, as it almost faced the lodgings occupied by +himself, and by skirting the railings with due caution, he managed to +half lead, half drag his companion to the house. When they stood before +the door, and Berwin had assured himself that he was actually home by +the use of his latch-key, Denzil wished him a curt good-night. "And I +should advise you to go to bed at once," he concluded, turning to +descend the steps. + +"Don't go! Don't go!" cried Berwin, seizing the young man by the arm. "I +am afraid to go in by myself--all is so dark and cold! Wait until I get +a light!" + +As the creature's nerves seemed to be unhinged by over-indulgence in +alcohol, and he stood gasping and shivering on the threshold like some +beaten animal, Lucian took compassion on him. + +"I'll see you indoors," said he, and striking a match, stepped into the +darkness after the man. The hall of No. 13 seemed to be almost as cold +as the world without, and the trifling glimmer of the lucifer served +rather to reveal than dispel the surrounding darkness. The light, as it +were, hollowed a gulf out of the tremendous gloom and made the house +tenfold more ghostly than before. The footsteps of Denzil and Berwin +sounding on the bare boards--for the hall was uncarpeted--waked hollow +echoes, and when they paused the silence which ensued seemed almost +menacing. The grim reputation of the mansion, its gloom and silence, +appealed powerfully to the latent superstition of Lucian. How much more +nearly, then, would it touch the shaken and excited nerves of the tragic +drunkard who dwelt continually amid its terrors! + +Berwin opened a door on the right-hand side of the hall and turned up +the light of a handsome oil-lamp which had been screwed down pending his +arrival. This lamp was placed on a small square table covered with a +white cloth and a dainty cold supper. The young barrister noted that the +napery, cutlery, and crystal were all of the finest; that the viands +were choice; that champagne and claret were the beverages. Evidently +Berwin was a luxurious gentleman and indulgent to his appetites. + +Lucian tried to gain a long look at him in the mellow light, but Berwin +kept his face turned away, and seemed as anxious now for his visitor to +go as he had been for him to enter. Denzil, quick in comprehension, took +the hint at once. + +"I'll go now, as you have the light burning," said he. "Good-night." + +"Good-night," replied Berwin shortly, and added to his discourtesy by +letting Lucian find his way out alone. + +And so ended the barrister's first meeting with the strange tenant of +the Silent House. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SHADOWS ON THE BLIND + + +The landlady of Denzil was a rather uncommon specimen of the class. She +inclined to plumpness, was lively in the extreme, wore very fashionable +garments of the brightest colours, and--although somewhat elderly--still +cherished a hope that some young man would elevate her to the rank of a +matron. + +At present, Miss Julia Greeb was an unwedded damsel of forty summers, +who, with the aid of art, was making desperate but ineffectual efforts +to detain the youth which was slipping from her. She pinched her waist, +dyed her hair, powdered her face, and affected juvenile dress of the +white frock and blue sash kind. In the distance she looked a girlish +twenty; close at hand various artifices aided her to pass for thirty; +and it was only in the solitude of her own room that her real age was +apparent. Never did woman wage a more resolute fight with Time than did +Miss Greeb. + +But this was the worst and most frivolous side of her character, for she +was really a good-hearted, cheery little woman, with a brisk manner, and +a flow of talk unequalled in Geneva Square. She had been born in the +house she occupied, after the death of her father, and had grown up to +assist her mother in ministering to the exactions of a continuous +procession of lodgers. These came and went, married and died; but not +one of the desirable young men had borne Miss Greeb to the altar, so +that when her mother died the fair Julia almost despaired of attaining +to the dignity of wifehood. Nevertheless, she continued to keep +boarders, and to make attempts to captivate the hearts of such bachelors +as she judged weak in character. + +Hitherto all her efforts had been more or less of a mercantile +character, with an eye to money; but when Lucian Denzil appeared on the +scene, the poor little woman really fell in love with his handsome face. +But, in strange contrast to her other efforts, Miss Greeb never for a +moment deemed that Lucian would marry her. He was her god, her ideal of +manhood, and to him she offered worship, and burnt incense after the +manner of her kind. + +Denzil occupied a bedroom and sitting-room, both pleasant, airy +apartments, looking out on to the square. Miss Greeb attended to his +needs herself, and brought up his breakfast with her own fair hands, +happy for the day if her admired lodger conversed with her for a few +moments before reading the morning paper. Then Miss Greeb would retire +to her own sitting-room and indulge in day dreams which she well knew +would never be realised. The romances she wove herself were even more +marvellous than those she read in her favourite penny novelettes; but, +unlike the printed tales, her romance never culminated in marriage. Poor +brainless, silly, pitiful Miss Greeb; she would have made a good wife +and a fond mother, but by some irony of fate she was destined to be +neither; and the comedy of her husband-hunting youth was now changing +into the lonely tragedy of disappointed spinsterhood. She was one of the +world's unknown martyrs, and her fate merits tears rather than laughter. + +On the morning after his meeting with Berwin, the young barrister sat at +breakfast, with Miss Greeb in anxious attendance. Having poured out his +tea, and handed him his paper, and ascertained that his breakfast was to +his liking, Miss Greeb lingered about the room, putting this straight +and that crooked, in the hope that Lucian would converse with her. In +this she was gratified, as Denzil wished to learn details about the +strange man he had assisted on the previous night, and he knew that no +one could afford him more precise information than his brisk landlady, +to whom was known all the gossip of the neighbourhood. His first word +made Miss Greeb flutter back to the table like a dove to its nest. + +"Do you know anything about No. 13?" asked Lucian, stirring his tea. + +"Do I know anything about No. 13?" repeated Miss Greeb in shrill +amazement. "Of course I do, Mr. Denzil. There ain't a thing I don't +know about that house. Ghosts and vampires and crawling spectres live in +it--that they do." + +"Do you call Mr. Berwin a ghost?" + +"No; nor nothing half so respectable. He is a mystery, sir, that's what +Mr. Berwin is, and I don't care if he hears me commit myself so far." + +"In what way is he a mystery?" demanded Denzil, approaching the matter +with more particularity. + +"Why," said Miss Greeb, evidently puzzled how to answer this leading +question, "no one can find out anything about him. He's full of secrets +and underhand goings on. It ain't respectable not to be fair and above +board--that it ain't." + +"I see no reason why a quiet-living old gentleman should tell his +private affairs to the whole square," remarked Lucian drily. + +"Those who have nothing bad to conceal needn't be afraid of speaking +out," retorted Miss Greeb tartly. "And the way in which Mr. Berwin lives +is enough to make one think him a coiner, or a thief, or even a +murderer--that it is!" + +"But what grounds have you to believe him any one of the three?" + +This question also puzzled the landlady, as she had no reasonable +grounds for her wild statements. Nevertheless, she made a determined +attempt to substantiate them by hearsay evidence. "Mr. Berwin," said she +in significant tones, "lives all alone in that haunted house." + +"Why not? Every man has the right to be a misanthrope if he chooses." + +"He has no right to behave so, in a respectable square," replied Miss +Greeb, shaking her head. "There's only two rooms of that large house +furnished, and all the rest is given up to dust and ghosts. Mr. Berwin +won't have a servant to live under his roof, and Mrs. Kebby, who does +his charing, says he drinks awful. Then he has his meals sent in from +the Nelson Hotel round the corner, and eats them all alone. He don't +receive no letters, he don't read no newspapers, and stays in all day, +only coming out at night, like an owl. If he ain't a criminal, Mr. +Denzil, why does he carry on so?" + +"He may dislike his fellow-men, and desire to live a secluded life." + +Miss Greeb still shook her head. "He may dislike his fellow-men," she +said with emphasis, "but that don't keep him from seeing them--ah! that +it don't." + +"Is there anything wrong in that?" said Lucian, contemptuous of these +cobweb objections. + +"Perhaps not, Mr. Denzil; but where do those he sees come from?" + +"How do you mean, Miss Greeb?" + +"They don't go in by the front door, that's certain," continued the +little woman darkly. "There's only one entrance to this square, sir, +and Blinders, the policeman, is frequently on duty there. Two or three +nights he's met Mr. Berwin coming in after dark and exchanged friendly +greetings with him, and each time Mr. Berwin has been alone!" + +"Well! well! What of that?" said Denzil impatiently. + +"This much, Mr. Denzil, that Blinders has gone round the square, after +seeing Mr. Berwin, and has seen shadows--two or three of them--on the +sitting-room blind. Now, sir," cried Miss Greeb, clinching her argument, +"if Mr. Berwin came into the square alone, how did his visitors get in?" + +"Perhaps by the back," conjectured Lucian. + +Again Miss Greeb shook her head. "I know the back of No. 13 as well as I +know my own face," she declared. "There's a yard and a fence, but no +entrance. To get in there you have to go in by the front door or down +the aiery steps; and you can't do neither without coming past Blinders +at the square's entrance, and that," finished Miss Greeb triumphantly, +"these visitors don't do." + +"They may have come into the square during the day, when Blinders was +not on duty." + +"No, sir," said Miss Greeb, ready for this objection. "I thought of that +myself, and as my duty to the square I have inquired--that I have. On +two occasions I've asked the day policeman, and he says no one passed." + +"Then," said Lucian, rather puzzled, "Mr. Berwin cannot live alone in +the house." + +"Begging your pardon, I'm sure," cried the pertinacious woman, "but he +does. Mrs. Kebby has been all over the house, and there isn't another +soul in it. No, Mr. Denzil, take it what way you will, there's +something that ain't right about Mr. Berwin--if that's his real name, +which I don't believe it is." + +"Why, Miss Greeb?" + +"Just because I don't," replied the landlady, with feminine logic. "And +if you think of having anything to do with this mystery, Mr. Denzil, I +beg of you not to, else you may come to something as is too terrible to +consider--that you may." + +"Such as--" + +"Oh, I don't know," cried Miss Greeb, tossing her head and gliding +towards the door. "It ain't for me to say what I think. I am the last +person in the world to meddle with what don't concern me--that I am." +And thus ending the conversation, Miss Greeb vanished, with significant +look and pursed-up lips. + +The reason of this last speech and rapid retreat lay in the fact that +Miss Greeb could bring no tangible charge against her opposite +neighbour; and therefore hinted at his complicity in all kinds of +horrors, which she was quite unable to define save in terms more or less +vague. + +Lucian dismissed such hints of criminality from his mind as the outcome +of Miss Greeb's very lively imagination; yet, even though he reduced her +communications to bare facts, he could not but acknowledge that there +was something queer about Mr. Berwin and his mode of life. The man's +self-pity and self-condemnation; his hints that certain people wished +to do him harm; the curious episode of the shadows on the blind--these +things engaged the curiosity of Denzil in no ordinary degree; and he +could not but admit to himself that it would greatly ease his mind to +arrive at some reasonable explanation of Berwin's eccentricities. + +Nevertheless, he held that he had no right to pry into the secrets of +the stranger, and honourably strove to dismiss the tenant of No. 13 and +his tantalising environments from his mind. But such dismissal of +unworthy curiosity was more difficult to effect than he expected. + +For the next week Lucian resolutely banished the subject from his +thoughts, and declined to discuss the matter further with Miss Greeb. +That little woman, all on fire with curiosity, made various inquiries of +her gossips regarding the doings of Mr. Berwin, and in default of +reporting the same to her lodger, occupied herself in discussing them +with her neighbours. The consequence of this incessant gossip was that +the eyes of the whole square fixed themselves on No. 13 in expectation +of some catastrophe, although no one knew exactly what was going to +happen. + +This undefinable feeling of impending disaster communicating itself to +Lucian, stimulated his curiosity to such a pitch that, with some feeling +of shame for his weakness, he walked round the square on two several +evenings in the hope of meeting Berwin. But on both occasions he was +unsuccessful. + +On the third evening he was more fortunate, for having worked at his +law books until late at night, he went out for a brisk walk before +retiring to rest. The night was cold, and there had been a slight fall +of snow, so Lucian wrapped himself up well, lighted his pipe, and +proceeded to take the air by tramping twice or thrice round the square. +Overhead the sky was clear and frosty, with chill glittering stars and a +wintry moon. A thin covering of snow lay on the pavement, and there was +a white rime on the bare branches of the central trees. + +On coming to the house of Berwin, the barrister saw that the +sitting-room was lighted up and the curtains undrawn, so that the window +presented a square of illuminated blind. Even as he looked, two shadows +darkened the white surface--the shadows of a man and a woman. Evidently +they had come between the lamp and the window, and so, quite +unknowingly, revealed their actions to the watcher. Curious to see the +end of this shadow pantomime, Lucian stood still and looked intently at +the window. + +The two figures seemed to be arguing, for their heads nodded violently +and their arms waved constantly. They retreated out of the sphere of +light, and again came into it, still continuing their furious gestures. +Unexpectedly the male shadow seized the female by the throat and swung +her like a feather to and fro. The struggling figures reeled out of the +radiance and Lucian heard a faint cry. + +Thinking that something was wrong, he rushed up the steps and rang the +bell violently. Almost before the sound died away the light in the room +was extinguished, and he could see nothing more. Again and again he +rang, but without attracting attention; so Lucian finally left the house +and went in search of Blinders, the policeman, to narrate his +experience. At the entrance of Geneva Square he ran against a man whom +he recognised in the clear moonlight. + +To his surprise he beheld Mark Berwin. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION + + +"Mr. Berwin!" cried Lucian, recognising the man. "Is it you?" + +"Who else should it be?" replied Berwin, bending forward to see who had +jostled him. "Who else should it be, Mr. Denzil?" + +"But I thought--I thought," said the barrister, unable to conceal his +surprise, "that is, I fancied you were indoors." + +"Your fancy was wrong, you see. I am not indoors." + +"Then who is in your house?" + +Berwin shrugged his shoulders. "No one, so far as I know." + +"You are mistaken, sir. There was a light in your room, and I saw the +shadows of a man and a woman struggling together thrown on the blind." + +"People in my house!" said Berwin, laying a shaking hand on the arm of +Lucian. "Impossible!" + +"I tell you it is so!" + +"Come, then, and we will look for them," said Berwin in a tremulous +voice. + +"But they have gone by this time!" + +"Gone!" + +"Yes," said Denzil rapidly. "I rang the bell, as I fancied there was +some fatal quarrel going on within. At once the light was put out, and +as I could attract no one to the door, I suppose the man and woman must +have fled." + +For a moment or so Berwin said nothing, but his grip on Lucian's arm +relaxed, and he moved forward a few steps. "You must be mistaken, Mr. +Denzil," said he in altered tones, "there can be no person in my house. +I locked the door before I went out, and I have been absent at least two +hours." + +"Then I must be mad, or dreaming!" retorted Lucian, with heat. + +"We can soon prove if you are either of the two, sir. Come with me and +examine the house for yourself." + +"Pardon me," said Denzil, drawing back, "it is none of my business. But +I warn you, Mr. Berwin, that others are more curious than I am. Several +times people have been known to be in your house while you were absent, +and your mode of life, secretive and strange, does not commend itself to +the householders in this neighbourhood. If you persist in giving rise to +gossip and scandal, some busybody may bring the police on the scene." + +"The police!" echoed the old man, now greatly alarmed, as would appear +from his shaking voice. "No! no! That will never do! My house is my +castle! The police dare not break into it! I am a peaceful and very +unfortunate gentleman, who wishes to live quietly. All this talk of +people being in my house is nonsense!" + +"Yet you seemed afraid when I told you of the shadows," said Lucian +pointedly. + +"Afraid! I am afraid of nothing!" + +"Not even of those who are after you?" hinted Denzil, recalling the +conversation of the previous occasion. + +Berwin gave a kind of eldritch shriek and stepped back a pace, as though +to place himself on his guard. "What--what do you know about such--such +things?" he panted. + +"Only so much as you hinted at when I last saw you." + +"Yes, yes! I was not myself on that night. The wine was in and the wit +was out." + +"The truth also, it would seem," said Lucian drily, "judging by your +agitation then and now." + +"I am an unfortunate gentleman," whimpered Berwin tremulously. + +"If you will excuse me, sir, I shall leave you," said Lucian +ceremoniously. "It seems to be my fate to hold midnight conversations +with you in the cold, but I think this one had better be cut short." + +"One moment," Mr. Berwin exclaimed. "You have been good enough to place +me on my guard as to the talk my quiet course of life is causing. Pray +add to your kindness by coming with me to my house and exploring it from +attic to basement. You will then see that there are no grounds for +scandal, and that the shadows you fancy you saw on the blind are not +those of real people." + +"They can't be those of ghosts, at all events," replied Lucian, "as I +never heard, to my knowledge, that spirits could cast shadows." + +"Well, come and see for yourself that the house is empty." + +Warmly as this invitation was given, Lucian had some scruples about +accepting it. To explore an almost unfurnished mansion with a complete +stranger--and one with an ill reputation--at the midnight hour, is not +an enterprise to be coveted by any man, however bold he may be. Still, +Lucian had ample courage, and more curiosity, for the adventure, as the +chance of it stirred up that desire for romance which belongs peculiarly +to youth. Also he was anxious to satisfy himself concerning the blind +shadows, and curious to learn why Berwin inhabited so dismal and +mysterious a mansion. Add to these reasons a keen pleasure in profiting +by the occurrence of the unexpected, and you will guess that Denzil +ended by accepting the strange invitation of Berwin. + +Being now fully committed to the adventure, he went forward with cool +courage and an observant eye, to spy out, if possible, the secret upon +which hinged these mysteries. + +As on the former occasion, Berwin inducted his guest into the +sitting-room, and here, as previously, a dainty supper was spread. +Berwin turned up the lamp light and waved his hand round the +luxuriously furnished room, pointing particularly to the space between +table and window. + +"The figures whose shadows you saw," said he, "must have struggled +together in this space, so as to be between the lamp and the blind for +the performance of their pantomime. But I would have you observe, Mr. +Denzil, that there is no disturbance of the furniture to show that such +a struggle as you describe took place; also that the curtains are drawn +across the window, and no light could have been thrown on the blind." + +"The curtains were, no doubt, drawn after I rang the bell," said Lucian, +glancing towards the heavy folds of crimson velvet which veiled the +window. + +"The curtains," retorted Berwin, stripping off his coat, "were drawn by +me before I went out." + +Lucian said nothing, but shook his head doubtfully. Evidently Berwin was +trying, for his own ends, to talk him into a belief that his eyes had +deceived him; but Denzil was too clear-headed a young man to be so +gulled. Berwin's explanations and excuses only confirmed the idea that +there was something in the man's life which cut him off from humanity, +and which would not bear the light of day. Hitherto, Lucian had heard +rather than seen Berwin; but now, in the clear light of the lamp, he had +an excellent opportunity of observing both the man and his quarters. + +Berwin was of medium height, and lean, with a clean-shaven face, hollow +cheeks, and black, sunken eyes. His hair was grey and thin, his looks +wild and wandering, and the hectic colouring of his face and narrow +chest showed that he was far gone in consumption. Even as Lucian looked +at him he was shaken by a hollow cough, and when he withdrew his +handkerchief from his lips the white linen was spotted with blood. + +He was in evening dress, and looked eminently refined, although worn and +haggard in appearance. Denzil noted two peculiar marks about him; the +first, a serpentine cicatrice extending on the right cheek from lip +almost to ear; the second, the loss of the little finger of the left +hand, which was cut off at the first joint. As he examined the man a +second and more violent fit of coughing shook him. + +"You seem to be very ill," said Lucian, pitying the feebleness of the +poor creature. + +"Dying of consumption--one lung gone!" gasped Berwin. "It will soon be +over--the sooner the better." + +"With your health, Mr. Berwin, it is sheer madness to dwell in this +rigorous English climate." + +"No doubt," replied the man, pouring himself out a tumbler of claret, +"but I can't leave England--I can't leave this house, even; but on the +whole," he added, with a satisfied glance around, "I am not badly +lodged." + +Lucian agreed with this speech. The room was furnished in the most +luxurious manner. The prevailing hue was a deep, warm red--carpet, +walls, hangings, and furniture were all of this cheerful tint. The +chairs were deep, and softly cushioned; on the walls were several oil +paintings by celebrated modern artists; there were dwarf bookcases +filled with well-chosen books, and on a small bamboo table near the fire +lay magazines and papers. + +The mantelpiece, reaching nearly to the ceiling, was of oak, framing +mirrors of bevelled glass; and on the numerous shelves, cups, saucers, +and vases of old and valuable china were placed. There was also a gilt +clock, a handsome sideboard, and a neat smoking-table, on which stood a +cut-glass spirit-stand and a box of cigars. The whole apartment was +furnished with taste and refinement, and Lucian saw that the man who +owned such luxurious quarters must be possessed of money, as well as the +capability of using it in the most civilised way. + +"You have certainly all that the heart of man can desire in the way of +material comforts," said he, looking at the supper table, which, with +its silver and crystal and spotless covering, glittered like a jewel +under the brilliant lamplight. "My only wonder is that you should +furnish one room so finely and leave the others bare." + +"My bedroom and bathroom are yonder," replied Berwin, pointing towards +large folding doors draped with velvet curtains, and placed opposite to +the window. "They are as well furnished as this. But how do you know the +rest of this house is bare?" + +"I can hardly help knowing it, Mr. Berwin. Your contrast of poverty and +riches is an open secret in this neighbourhood." + +"No one has been in my house save yourself, Mr. Denzil." + +"Oh, I have said nothing. You turned me out so quickly the other night +that I had no time for observation. Besides, I am not in the habit of +remarking on matters which do not concern me." + +"I beg your pardon," said Berwin weakly. "I had no intention of +offending you. I suppose Mrs. Kebby has been talking?" + +"I should think it probable." + +"The skirling Jezebel!" cried Berwin. "I'll pack her off right away!" + +"Are you a Scotchman?" asked Denzil suddenly. + +"Why do you ask?" demanded Berwin, without replying. + +"You used an essentially Scotch word--'skirling.'" + +"And I used an essentially American phrase--'right away,'" retorted the +man. "I may be a Scot, I may be a Yankee, but I would remind you that my +nationality is my own secret." + +"I have no wish to pry into your secrets," said Denzil, rising from the +chair in which he had seated himself, "and in my turn I would remind you +that I am here at your invitation." + +"Don't take offense at a hasty word," said Berwin nervously. "I am glad +of your company, although I seem rather brusque. You must go over the +house with me." + +"I see no necessity to do so." + +"It will set your mind at rest regarding the shadows on the blind." + +"I can trust my eyes," said Lucian, drily, "and I am certain that before +I met you a man and a woman were in this room." + +"Well," said Berwin, lighting a small lamp, "come with me and I'll prove +that you are mistaken." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY + + +The pertinacity which Berwin displayed in insisting that Lucian should +explore the Silent House was truly remarkable. He appeared to be bent +upon banishing the idea which Denzil entertained that strangers were +hiding in the mansion. + +From attic to basement, from front to back premises, he led the way, and +made Lucian examine every corner of the empty rooms. He showed him even +the unused kitchen, and bade him remark that the door leading into the +yard was locked and bolted, and, from the rusty condition of the +ironwork, could not have been opened for years. Also, he made him look +out of the window into the yard itself, with its tall black fence +dividing it from the other properties. + +This exploration finished, and Lucian being convinced that himself and +his host were the only two living beings in the house, Berwin conducted +his half-frozen guest back to the warm sitting-room and poured out a +glass of wine. + +"Here, Mr. Denzil," said he in good-natured tones, "drink this and draw +near the fire; you must be chilled to the bone after our Arctic +expedition." + +Lucian willingly accepted both these attentions, and sipped his +wine--it was particularly fine claret--before the fire, while Berwin +coughed and shivered, and muttered to himself about the cold of the +season. When Lucian stood up to take his departure, he addressed him +directly: + +"Well, sir," said he, with a sardonic smile, "are you convinced that the +struggling shadows on yonder blind were children of your heated fancy?" + +"No," said Denzil stoutly, "I am not!" + +"Yet you have seen that there is no one in the house!" + +"Mr. Berwin," said Lucian, after a moment's thought, "you propose a +riddle which I cannot answer, and which I do not wish to answer. I +cannot explain what I saw to-night, but as surely as you were out of +this house, some people were in it. How this affects you, or what reason +you have for denying it, I do not ask. Keep your own secrets, and go +your own way. I wish you good-night, sir," and Lucian moved towards the +door. + +Berwin, who was holding a full tumbler of rich, strong port, drank the +whole of it in one gulp. The strong liquor reddened his pallid face and +brightened his sunken eyes; it even strengthened his already sonorous +voice. + +"At least you can inform my good neighbours that I am a peaceful man, +desirous of being left to lead my own life," he said urgently. + +"No, sir! I will have nothing to do with your business. You are a +stranger to me, and our acquaintance is too slight to warrant my +discussing your affairs. Besides," added Lucian, with a shrug, "they do +not interest me." + +"Yet they may interest the three kingdoms one day," said Berwin softly. + +"Oh, if they deal with danger to society," said Denzil, thinking his +strange neighbour spoke of anarchistic schemes, "I would----" + +"They deal with danger to myself," interrupted Berwin. "I am a hunted +man, and I hide here from those who wish me ill. I am dying, as you +see," he cried, striking his hollow chest, "but I may not die quickly +enough for those who desire my death." + +"Who are they?" cried Lucian, rather startled by this outburst. + +"People with whom you have no concern," replied the man sullenly. + +"That is true enough, Mr. Berwin, so I'll say good-night!" + +"Berwin! Berwin! Ha! ha! A very good name, Berwin, but not for me. Oh, +was there ever so unhappy a creature as I? False name, false friend, in +disgrace, in hiding! Curse everybody! Go! go! Mr. Denzil, and leave me +to die here like a rat in its hole!" + +"You are ill!" said Lucian, amazed by the man's fury. "Shall I send a +doctor to see you?" + +"Send no one," cried Berwin, commanding himself by a visible effort. +"Only go away and leave me to myself. 'Thou can'st not minister to a +mind diseased.' Go! go!" + +"Good-night, then," said Denzil, seeing that nothing could be done. "I +hope you will be better in the morning." + +Berwin shook his head, and with a silent tongue, which contrasted +strangely with his late outcry, ushered Denzil out of the house. + +As the heavy door closed behind him Lucian descended the steps and +looked thoughtfully at the grim mansion, which was tenanted by so +mysterious a person. He could make nothing of Berwin--as he chose to +call himself--he could see no meaning in his wild words and mad +behaviour; but as he walked briskly back to his lodgings he came to the +conclusion that the man was nothing worse than a tragic drunkard, +haunted by terrors engendered by over-indulgence in stimulants. The +episode of the shadows on the blind he did not attempt to explain, for +the simple reason that he was unable to find any plausible explanation +to account therefor. + +"And why should I trouble my head to do so?" mused Lucian as he went to +bed. "The man and his mysteries are nothing to me. Bah! I have been +infected by the vulgar curiosity of the Square. Henceforth I'll neither +see nor think of this drunken lunatic," and with such resolve he +dismissed all thoughts of his strange acquaintance from his mind, which, +under the circumstances, was perhaps the wisest thing he could do. + +But later on certain events took place which forced him to alter his +determination. Fate, with her own ends to bring about is not to be +denied by her puppets; and of these Lucian was one, designed for an +important part in the drama which was to be played. + +Mrs. Margery Kebby, who attended to the domestic economy of Berwin's +house, was a deaf old crone with a constant thirst, only to be assuaged +by strong drink; and a filching hand which was usually in every pocket +save her own. She had neither kith nor kin, nor friends, nor even +acquaintances; but, being something of a miser, scraped and screwed to +amass money she had no need for, and dwelt in a wretched little +apartment in a back slum, whence she daily issued to work little and +pilfer much. + +Usually at nine o'clock she brought in her employer's breakfast from the +Nelson Hotel, which was outside the Square, and while he was enjoying it +in bed, after his fashion, she cleaned out and made tidy the +sitting-room. Berwin then dressed and went out for a walk, despite Miss +Greeb's contention that he took the air only at night, like an owl, and +during his absence Mrs. Kebby attended to the bedroom. She then went +about her own business, which was connected with the cleaning of various +other apartments, and only returned at midday and at night to lay the +table for Berwin's luncheon and dinner, or rather dinner and supper, +which were also sent in from the hotel. + +For these services Berwin paid her well, and only enjoined her to keep a +quiet tongue about his private affairs, which Mrs. Kebby usually did +until excited by too copious drams of gin, when she talked freely and +unwisely to all the servants in the Square. It was to her observation +and invention that Berwin owed his bad reputation. + +Well-known in every kitchen, Mrs. Kebby hobbled from one to the other, +gossiping about the various affairs of her various employers; and when +absolute knowledge failed she took to inventing details which did no +small credit to her imagination. Also, she could tell fortunes by +reading tea-leaves and shuffling cards, and was not above aiding the +maid servants in their small love affairs. + +In short, Mrs. Kebby was a dangerous old witch, who, a century back, +would have been burnt at the stake; and the worst possible person for +Berwin to have in his house. Had he known of her lying and prating she +would not have remained an hour under his roof; but Mrs. Kebby was +cunning enough to steer clear of such a danger in the most dexterous +manner. She had a firm idea that Berwin had, in her own emphatic phrase, +"done something" for which he was wanted by the police, and was always +on the look out to learn the secret of his isolated life, in order to +betray him, or blackmail him, or get him in some way under her thumb. As +yet she had been unsuccessful. + +Deeming her a weak, quiet old creature, Berwin, in spite of his +suspicious nature, entrusted Mrs. Kebby with the key of the front door, +so that she could enter for her morning's work without disturbing him. +The sitting-room door itself was not always locked, but Berwin usually +bolted the portal of his bedroom, and had invariably to rise and admit +Mrs. Kebby with his breakfast. + +The same routine was observed each morning, and everything went +smoothly. Mrs. Kebby had heard of the blind shadows from several people, +and had poked and pryed about all over the house in the hope of arriving +at some knowledge of the substantial flesh and blood figures which cast +them. But in this quest, which was intended to put money into her own +pocket, she failed entirely; and during the whole six months of Berwin's +tenancy she never saw a living soul in No. 13 save her employer; nor +could she ever find any evidence to show that Berwin had received +visitors during her absence. The man was as great a mystery to Mrs. +Kebby as he was to the square, in spite of her superior opportunities of +learning the truth. + +On Christmas Eve the old woman brought in a cold supper for Berwin, as +usual, making several journeys to and fro between hotel and house for +that purpose. She laid the table, made up the fire, and before taking +her leave asked Mr. Berwin if he wanted anything else. + +"No, I think not," replied the man, who looked wretchedly ill. "You can +bring my breakfast to-morrow." + +"At nine, sir?" + +"At the usual time," answered Berwin impatiently. "Go away!" + +Mrs. Kebby gave a final glance round to see that all was in order, and +shuffled out of the room as fast as her rheumatism would let her. As she +left the house eight o'clock chimed from the steeple of a near church, +and Mrs. Kebby, clinking her newly-received wages in her pocket, hurried +out of the square to do her Christmas marketing. As she went down the +street which led to it, Blinders, a burly, ruddy-faced policeman, who +knew her well, stopped to make an observation. + +"Is that good gentleman of yours home, Mrs. Kebby?" he asked, in the +loud tones used to deaf people. + +"Oh, he's home," grumbled Mrs. Kebby ungraciously, "sittin' afore the +fire like Solomon in all his glory. What d'ye want to know for?" + +"I saw him an hour ago," explained Blinders, "and I thought he looked +ill." + +"So he do, like a corpse. What of that? We've all got to come to it some +day. 'Ow d'ye know but what he won't be dead afore morning? Well, I +don't care. He's paid me up till to-night. I'm going to enj'y myself, I +am." + +"Don't you get drunk, Mrs. Kebby, or I'll lock you up." + +"Garn!" grunted the old beldame. "Wot's Christmas Eve for, if it ain't +for folk to enj'y theirselves? Y'are on duty early." + +"I'm taking the place of a sick comrade, and I'll be on duty all night. +That's my Christmas." + +"Well! well! Let every one enj'y hisself as he likes," muttered Mrs. +Kebby, and shuffled off to the nearest public house. + +Here she began to celebrate the season, and afterwards went shopping; +then she celebrated the season again, and later carried home her +purchases to the miserable garret she occupied. In this den Mrs. Kebby, +with the aid of gin and water, celebrated the season until she drank +herself to sleep. + +Next morning she woke in anything but an amiable mood, and had to +fortify herself with an early drink before she was fit to go about her +business. + +It was almost nine when she reached the Nelson Hotel, and found the +covered tray with Mr. Berwin's breakfast waiting for her; so she hurried +with it to Geneva Square as speedily as possible, fearful of a scolding. +Having admitted herself into the house, Mrs. Kebby took up the tray with +both hands, and pushed open the sitting-room door with her foot. Here, +at the sight which met her eyes, she dropped the tray with a crash, and +let off a shrill yell. + +The room was in disorder, the table was overturned, and amid the +wreckage of glass and china lay Mark Berwin, with outspread hands--stone +dead--stabbed to the heart. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TALK OF THE TOWN + + +Nowadays, events, political, social, and criminal, crowd so closely on +one another's heels that what was formerly a nine days' wonder is +scarcely marvelled at the same number of minutes. Yet in certain cases +episodes of a mysterious or unexpected nature engage the attention of a +careless world for a somewhat longer period, and provoke an immense +amount of discussion and surmise. In this category may be placed the +crime committed in Geneva Square; for when the extraordinary +circumstances of the case became known, much curiosity was manifested +regarding the possible criminal and his motive for committing so +apparently useless a crime. + +To add to the wonderment of the public, it came out in the evidence of +Lucian Denzil at the inquest that Berwin was not the real name of the +victim; so here the authorities were confronted with a three-fold +problem. They had first to discover the name of the dead man; second, to +learn who it was had so foully murdered him; and third, to find out the +reason why the unknown assassin should have slain an apparently harmless +man. + +But these hidden things were not easily brought to light; and the +meagre evidence collected by the police failed to do away with any one +of the three obstacles--at all events, until after the inquest. When the +jury brought in a verdict that the deceased had been violently done to +death by some person or persons unknown, the twelve good men and true +stated the full extent of knowledge gained by Justice in her futile +scramble after clues. Berwin--so called--was dead, his assassin had +melted into thin air, and the Silent House had added a second legend to +its already uncanny reputation. Formerly it had been simply haunted, now +it was also blood-stained, and its last condition was worse than its +first. + +The dead man had been found stabbed to the heart by some long, thin, +sharp-pointed instrument which the murderer had taken away with him--or +perhaps her, as the sex of the assassin, for obvious reasons, could not +be decided. Mrs. Kebby swore that she had left the deceased sitting over +the fire at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, and that he had then been +fairly well, though far from enjoying the best of health. When she +returned, shortly after nine, on Christmas morning, the man was dead and +cold. Medical aid was called in at the same time as the police were +summoned; and the evidence of the doctor who examined the body went to +prove that Berwin had been dead at least ten hours; therefore, he must +have been assassinated between the hours of eleven and twelve of the +previous night. + +Search was immediately made for the murderer, but no trace could be +found of him, nor could it be ascertained how he had entered the house. +The doors were all locked, the windows were all barred, and neither at +the back nor in the front was there any outlet left open whereby the +man--if it was a man who had done the deed--could have escaped. + +Blinders, the policeman on duty at the entrance of the square, gave +evidence that he had been on duty there all night, and that although +many servants and owners of houses belonging to the square had passed in +from their Christmas marketings, yet no stranger had entered. The +policeman knew every one, even to the errand-boys of the neighbourhood, +who brought parcels of Christmas goods, and in many cases had exchanged +greetings with the passers-by; but he was prepared to swear, and, in +fact, did swear at the inquest, that no stranger either came into or +went out of Geneva Square. + +Also he deposed that when the traffic died away after midnight he had +walked round the square, and had looked at every window, including that +of No. 13, and had tried every door, also including that of No. 13, only +to find that all was safe. Blinders declared on oath that he had not on +Christmas Eve the slightest suspicion of the horrid tragedy which had +taken place in the Silent House during the time he was on duty. + +When the police took possession of the body and mansion, search was made +in bedroom and sitting-room for papers likely to throw light on the +identity of the victim, but in vain. No letters or telegrams, or even +writing of any kind, could be discovered; there was no name in the dead +man's books, no mark on his clothes, no initials on his linen. + +The landlord of the house declared that the deceased had hired the +mansion six months before, but had given no references, and as the +landlord was glad to let the haunted No. 13 on any terms, he had not +insisted upon having them. The deceased, said the landlord, had paid a +month's rent in advance in ready money, and at the end of every month he +had discharged his liability in the same way. He gave neither cheque nor +notes, but paid always in gold; and beyond the fact that he called +himself Mark Berwin, the landlord knew nothing about him. + +The firm who had furnished the rooms made almost the same report, quite +as meagre and unsatisfactory. Mr. Berwin--so the deceased had given his +name--had ordered the furniture, and had paid for it in gold. +Altogether, in spite of every effort, the police were obliged to declare +themselves beaten. They could not find out the name of the victim, and +therefore were unable to learn his past life, or trace thereby if he had +an enemy likely to harm him. + +Beyond the report given by Lucian of his conversation with the man, +which showed that Berwin certainly had some enemy whom he dreaded, there +was nothing discovered to show reason for the committal of the crime. + +Berwin--so called--was dead; he was buried under his assumed name, and +there, so far as the obtainable evidence went, was an end to the strange +tenant of the Silent House. Gordon Link, the detective charged with the +conduct of the case, confessed as much to Denzil. + +"I do not see the slightest chance of tracing Berwin's past," said he to +the barrister. "We are as ignorant about him as we are of the name of +the assassin." + +"Are you sure there is no clue, Mr. Link?" + +"Absolutely none; even the weapon with which the crime was committed +cannot be found." + +"You have searched the house?" + +"Every inch of it, and with the result that I have found nothing. The +surroundings of the case are most mysterious. If we do not identify the +dead we cannot hope to trace the murderer. How the wretch got into the +house is more than I can discover." + +"It is strange," admitted Lucian thoughtfully, "yet in some secret way +people were in the habit of entering the house, and Berwin knew as much; +not only that, but he protected them from curiosity by denying that they +even existed." + +"I don't quite follow you, Mr. Denzil." + +"I allude to the shadows on the blind, which I saw myself a week before +the murder took place. They were those of a man and a woman, and must +have been cast by bodies of flesh and blood. Therefore, two people must +have been in Berwin's sitting-room on that night; yet when I met Berwin +who was absent at the time--he denied that anyone could have entered his +house without his knowledge. More, he actually insisted that I should +satisfy myself as to the truth of this by examining the house." + +"Which you did?" + +"Yes, but found nothing; yet," said Lucian, with an air of conviction, +"however the man and woman entered, they were in the house." + +"Then the assassin must have come in by the same way; but where that way +can be, or how it can be found, is more than I can say." + +"Does the landlord know of any secret passages?" + +"No; I asked him," replied the detective, "but he stated that houses +nowadays were not built with secret passages. When Berwin denied that +anyone was in the house, was he afraid, Mr. Denzil?" + +"Yes, he seemed to be nervous." + +"And he told you he had enemies?" + +"He hinted that there were people who wished to see him dead. From the +way he spoke and the language he used I am satisfied that he was hiding +from the vengeance of some one." + +"Vengeance!" repeated Link, raising his eyebrows. "Is not that word a +trifle melodramatic?" + +"Perhaps; but to my mind there is more melodrama in actual life than +people fancy. However, Mr. Link," added Lucian, "I have come to certain +conclusions. Firstly, that Berwin was in hiding; secondly, that he saw +people secretly who entered in some way we cannot discover; and +thirdly, that to solve the problem it will be necessary to look into the +past life of the dead man." + +"Your third conclusion brings us round to the point whence we started," +retorted Link. "How am I to discover the man's past?" + +"By learning who he is, and what is his real name." + +"An easy task," said the detective sarcastically, "considering the +meagre material upon which we have to work. And how is the business to +be accomplished?" + +"By advertisement." + +"Advertisement!" + +"Yes. I wonder the idea did not strike you before, seeing how often it +is used in similar cases. Advertise a full description of the man who +called himself Berwin, note his physical peculiarities and looks, and +circulate such description by means of handbills and newspapers." + +Link looked angry, and laughed rather contemptuously, as his +professional pride was touched by the fact of being advised by an +individual not of his calling. + +"I am not so ignorant of my business as you think," he said sharply. +"What you suggest has already been done. There are handbills describing +the appearance of Berwin in every police office in the kingdom." + +"In the newspapers, also?" asked Lucian, nettled by the detective's +tone. + +"No; it is not necessary." + +"I don't agree with you. Many people in private life are not likely to +see your handbills. I don't pretend to advise, Mr. Link," he added in +soothing tones, "but would it not be wise to use the medium of the daily +papers?" + +"I'll think of it," said Link, too jealous of his dignity to give way at +once. + +"Oh, I quite rely on your discretion," said Denzil hastily. "You know +your own business best. But if you succeed in identifying Berwin, will +you let me know?" + +Link looked keenly at the young man. + +"Why do you wish to know about the matter?" he asked. + +"Out of simple curiosity. The case is so mysterious that I should like +to watch you unravel it." + +"Well," said Link, rather gratified by this tribute to his power, "I +shall indulge your fancy." + +The result of this conversation was that Lucian observed in the +newspapers next day an advertisement describing the looks and name, and +physical peculiarities of the deceased, with special mention of the loss +of the left hand's little finger, and the strange cicatrice on the right +cheek. Satisfied that the only way to learn the truth had been adopted +by the authorities, Lucian impatiently waited for the development of the +scheme. + +Within the week he received a visit from the detective. + +"You were right and I was wrong, Mr. Denzil," admitted Link generously. +"The newspapers were of more use than the handbills. Yesterday I +received a letter from a lady who is coming to see me to-morrow at my +office. So if you care to be present at the interview you have only to +say so." + +"I should like it above all things," said Lucian eagerly. "Who is the +lady?" + +"A Mrs. Vrain, who writes from Bath." + +"Can she identify the dead man?" + +"She thinks she can, but, of course, she cannot be certain until she +sees the body. Going by the description, however," added Link, "she is +inclined to believe that Berwin was her husband." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MRS. VRAIN'S STORY + + +Denzil was much pleased with the courtesy of the detective Link in +permitting him to gain, at first hand, further details of this +mysterious case. With a natural curiosity, engendered by his short +acquaintance with the unfortunate Berwin, he was most anxious to learn +why the man had secluded himself from the world in Geneva Square; who +were the enemies he hinted at as desirous of his death; and in what +manner and for what reason he had met with so barbarous a fate at their +hands. It seemed likely that Mrs. Vrain, who asserted herself to be the +wife of the deceased, would be able to answer these questions in full; +therefore, he was punctual in keeping the appointment at the office of +Link. + +He was rather astonished to find that Mrs. Vrain had arrived, and was +deep in conversation with the detective, while a third person, who had +evidently accompanied her, sat near at hand, silent, but attentive to +what was being discussed. As the dead man had been close on sixty years +of age, and Mrs. Vrain claimed to be his wife, Denzil had quite +expected to meet with an elderly woman. Instead of doing so, however, +he beheld a pretty young lady of not more than twenty-five, whose +raiment of widow's weeds set off her beauty to the greatest advantage. +She was a charming blonde, with golden hair and blue eyes, and a +complexion of rose-leaf hue. In spite of her grief her demeanour was +lively and engaging, and her smile particularly attractive, lighting up +her whole face in the most fascinating manner. Her hands and feet were +small, her stature was that of a fairy, and her figure was perfect in +every way. + +Altogether, Mrs. Vrain looked like a sylph or a dainty shepherdess of +Dresden china, and should have been arrayed in gossamer robes, rather +than in the deep mourning she affected. Indeed, Lucian considered that +such weeds were rather premature, as Mrs. Vrain could not yet be certain +that the murdered man was her husband; but she looked so charming and +childlike a creature that he forgave her being too eager to consider +herself a widow. Perhaps with such an elderly husband her eagerness was +natural. + +From this charming vision Lucian's eyes wandered to the attentive third +person, a rosy-cheeked, plump little man, of between fifty and sixty. +From his resemblance to Mrs. Vrain--for he had the same blue eyes and +pink-and-white complexion--Lucian guessed that he was her father, and +such, indeed, proved to be the case. Link, on Lucian's entrance, +introduced him to the sylph in black, who in her turn presented him to +the silvery-haired, benevolent old man, whom she called Mr. Jabez Clyne. + +At the first sound of their voices Lucian detected so pronounced a +twang, and so curious a way of collocating words, as to conclude that +Mrs. Vrain and her amiable parent hailed from the States. The little +lady seemed to pride herself on this, and indicated her republican +origin in her speech more than was necessary--at least, Denzil thought +so. But then, on occasions, he was disposed to be hyper-critical. + +"Say, now," said Mrs. Vrain, casting an approving glance on Lucian's +face, "I'm right down glad to see you. Mr. Link here was just saying you +knew my husband, Mr. Vrain." + +"I knew him as Mr. Berwin--Mark Berwin," replied Denzil, taking a seat. + +"Just think of that now!" cried Mrs. Vrain, with a liveliness rather +subdued in compliment to her apparel; "and his real name was Mark Vrain. +Well, I guess he won't need no name now, poor man," and the widow +touched her bright eyes carefully with a doll's pocket-handkerchief, +which Lucian noted, somewhat cynically, was perfectly dry. + +"Maybe he's an angel by this time, Lyddy," said Mr. Clyne, in a +cheerful, chirping voice, "so it ain't no use wishing him back, as I can +see. We've all got to negotiate kingdom-come some time or another." + +"Not in the same way, I hope," said Lucian dryly. "But I beg your +pardon, Link, I interrupt your conversation." + +"By no means," replied the detective readily. "We had just begun when +you entered, Mr. Denzil." + +"And it wasn't much of a talk, anyhow," said Mrs. Vrain. "I was only +replying to some stupid questions." + +"Stupid, if you will, but necessary," observed Link, with gravity. "Let +us continue. Are you certain that this dead man is--or rather was--your +husband?" + +"I'm as sure as sure can be, sir. Berwin Manor is the name of our place +near Bath, and it looks as though my husband called himself after it +when he changed his colours. And isn't his first name Mark?" pursued the +pretty widow. "Well, my husband was called Mark, too, so there you +are--Mark Berwin." + +"Is this all your proof?" asked Link calmly. + +"I guess not, though it's enough, I should say. My husband had a mark on +his right cheek--got it fighting a duel with a German student when he +was having a high time as one of the boys at Heidelberg. Then he lost +part of his little finger--left-hand finger--in an accident out West. +What other proof do you want, Mr. Link?" + +"The proofs you have given seem sufficient, Mrs. Vrain, but may I ask +when your husband left his home?" + +"About a year ago, eh, poppa?" + +"You are overdoing it, Lyddy," corrected the father. "Size it up as ten +months, and you'll do." + +"Ten months," said Lucian suddenly, "and Mr. Berwin----" + +"Vrain!" struck in Lydia, the widow, "Mark Vrain." + +"I beg your pardon! Well, Mark Vrain took the house in Geneva Square six +months back. Where was he during the other four?" + +"Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil. I know no more than you do." + +"Did you not know where he went on leaving Berwin Manor?" + +"Sakes! how should I? Mark and I didn't pull together nohow, so he +kicked over the traces and made tracks for the back of beyond." + +"And you might square it, Lyddy, by saying as 'twasn't you who upset the +apple cart." + +"Well, I should smile to think so," said Mrs. Vrain vigorously. "I was +as good as pie to that old man." + +"You did not get on well together?" said Link sharply. + +"Got on as well as a cat hitched along with a dog. My stars! there was +no living with him. If he hadn't left me, I'd have left him--that's an +almighty truth." + +"So the gist of all this is that Mr. Vrain left you ten months ago, and +did not leave his address?" + +"That's so," said the widow calmly. "I've not seen nor heard of him for +most a year, till pop there tumbled across your paragraph in the +papers. Then I surmised from the name and the missing finger and the +scarred cheek, that I'd dropped right on to Mark. I wouldn't take all +this trouble for any one else; no, sir, not me!" + +"My Lyddy does not care about being a grass-widow, gentlemen." + +"I don't mind being a grass-widow or a real one, so long as I know how +to ticket myself," said the candid Lydia; "but seems to me there's no +question that Mark's sent in his checks." + +"I certainly think that this man who called himself Berwin was your +husband," said Denzil, for Mrs. Vrain's eyes rested on him, and she +seemed to expect an answer. + +"Well, then, that means I'm Mr. Vrain's widow?" + +"I should say so." + +"And entitled to all his pile?" + +"That depends on the will," said Lucian dryly, for the light tone of the +pretty woman jarred upon his ear. + +"Oh, that's all right," replied Mrs. Vrain, putting a gold-topped +smelling bottle to her nose. "I saw the will made, and know exactly how +I come out. The old man's daughter by his first wife gets the manor and +the rents, and I take the assurance money!" + +"Was Mr. Berwin--I beg pardon, Vrain--was he married twice?" + +"I should think so!" said Lydia. "He was a widower with a grown-up +daughter when I took him to church. Well, can I get this assurance +money?" + +"I suppose so," said Link, "provided you can prove your husband's +death." + +"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Vrain briskly. "Wasn't he murdered?" + +"The man called Berwin was murdered." + +"Well, sir," said the rosy-cheeked Clyne, with more sharpness than might +have been expected from his peaceful aspect, "and ain't Berwin Vrain?" + +"It would seem so," replied Link coolly. "All your evidence goes to +prove it, yet the assurance company may not be satisfied with the proof. +I expect the grave will have to be opened, and the remains identified." + +"Ugh!" said Mrs. Vrain with a shrug, "how disgusting! I mean," she +added, colouring as she saw that Lucian was rather shocked by her +flippancy, "that sorry as I am for the old man, he wasn't a good husband +to me, and corpses a week old ain't pleasant things to look on." + +"Lyddy," interposed Clyne, hastening to obliterate, if possible, the +impression made on the two men by this foolish speech, "how you do go +on. But you know your heart is better than your tongue." + +"It was, to put up so long with Mr. Vrain," said Lydia resentfully; "but +I'm honest, if I'm nothing else. I guess I'm sorry that Vrain got stuck +like a pig; but it wasn't my fault, and I've done my best to show +respect by wearing black. But it is no good going on in this way, +poppa, for I've no call to excuse myself to strangers. What I want to +know is how I'm going to get the dollars." + +"You'll have to see the assurance company about that," said Link coldly; +"my business with you, Mrs. Vrain, is about this murder." + +"I know nothing about it," retorted the widow. "I haven't set eyes on +Mark for most a year." + +"Have you any idea who killed him?" + +"I guess not! How should I?" + +"You might know if he had enemies." + +"He," said Mrs. Vrain, with supreme contempt, "why, he hadn't backbone +enough for folks to get riz at him! He was half baked!" + +"Crazy, that is," remarked Clyne; "always thought the world was against +him, and folks wanted to get quit of him." + +"He said he had enemies," hinted Lucian. + +"You bet! He no doubt made out that all Europe was against him," said +Clyne. "That was my son-in-law all over. Lyddy and he had a tiff, just +like other married couples, and he clears out to lie low in an +out-of-the-way shanty in Pimlico. I tell you, gentlemen, that Vrain had +a chip out of his head. He fancied things, he did; but no one wanted to +harm him that I know of." + +"Yet he died a violent death," said Denzil gravely. + +"That's a frozen fact, sir," cried Clyne, "and both Lyddy and I want to +lynch the reptile as did it; but we neither of us know who laid him +out." + +"I'm sure I don't," said Mrs. Vrain in a weeping voice. "Every one that +I knew was civil to him; he had no one who wanted to kill him when he +left Berwin Manor. Why he went away, or how he died, I can't say." + +"If you want to know how he died," explained Link, "I can tell you. He +was stabbed." + +"So the journals said; with a bowie!" + +"No, not with a bowie," corrected Lucian, "but with some long, sharp +instrument." + +"A dagger?" suggested Clyne. + +"I should be even more precise," said Denzil slowly. "I should say a +stiletto--an Italian stiletto." + +"A stiletto!" gasped Mrs. Vrain, whose delicate pink colour had faded to +a chalky white. "Oh!--oh! I--I--" and she fainted forthwith. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ASSURANCE MONEY + + +Mrs. Vrain's fainting fit was of no great duration, and she shortly +recovered her senses, but not her sprightliness. Her excuse was that the +long discussion of her husband's murder, and the too precise details +related to her by Link before Denzil's arrival, had so wrought on her +nerves as to occasion her temporary indisposition. + +This reason, which was a trifle weak, since she seemed to bear her +husband's loss with great stoicism, awakened suspicions in Lucian's mind +as to her truthfulness. However, these were too vague and confused to be +put into words, so the young man remained silent until Mrs. Vrain and +her father departed. This they did almost immediately, after the widow +had given her London and country addresses to the detective, in case he +should require her in the conduct of the case. + +This matter being attended to, she left the room, with a parting smile +and especial bow to Lucian. + +Link smiled in his turn as he observed this Parthian shaft, the shooting +of which was certainly out of keeping with Mrs. Vrain's character of a +mourning widow. + +"You seem to have made an impression on the lady, Mr. Denzil," he said, +with a slight cough to conceal his amusement. + +"Nonsense!" replied Lucian, his fair face crimsoning with vexation. "She +seems to me one of those shallow women who would sooner flirt with a +tinker than pass unnoticed by the male sex. I don't like her," he +concluded, with some abruptness. + +"On what grounds?" + +"Well, she spoke very hardly about her husband, and seemed rather more +concerned about this assurance money than his death. She is a flippant +doll, with a good deal of the adventuress about her. I don't think," +said the barrister significantly, "that she is altogether so ignorant of +this matter as she pretends to be." + +The detective raised his eyebrows. "You don't propose to accuse her of +the murder?" he asked sceptically. + +"Oh, no!" answered Denzil hastily. "I don't say she is as guilty as all +that; but she knows something, or suspects something." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"She fainted at the mention of stiletto; and I am convinced that +Vrain--as I suppose we must call him now--was killed with one. And +again, Link, this woman admitted that she had married her elderly +husband in Florence. Now, Florence, as you know, is an Italian town; a +stiletto is an Italian weapon. Putting these two things together, what +do you make of Mrs. Vrain's fainting?" + +"I make nothing of it, Mr. Denzil. You are too suspicious. The woman +had no reason to rid herself of her husband as you hint." + +"What about the assurance money?" + +"There is a motive there, certainly--a motive of gain. Still, I think +you are making a mountain out of a molehill, for I am satisfied that she +knows no more who committed the crime than does the Pope himself." + +"It is as well to look in every direction," said Lucian obstinately. + +"Meaning that I should follow this clue you suggest, which has no +existence save in your own fancy. Well, I'll keep my eye on Mrs. Vrain, +you may be sure of that. It won't be difficult, as she will certainly +stay in town until she identifies the body of her dead husband and gets +the money. If she is guilty, I'll track her down; but I am certain she +has nothing to do with the crime. If she had, it is not likely that she +would enter the lion's den by coming to see me. No, no, Mr. Denzil; you +have found a mare's nest." + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and took up his hat to go. + +"You may be right," said he reluctantly, "but I have my doubts of Mrs. +Vrain, and shall continue to have them until she supplies a more +feasible explanation of her fainting. In the meantime, I'll leave you to +follow out the case in the manner you judge best. We shall see who is +right in the long run," and Denzil, still holding to his opinion, took +his departure, leaving Link confident that the young man did not know +what he was talking about. + +As the detective sat thinking over the late conversation, and wondering +if he could shape any definite course out of it, Denzil put his head in +at the door. + +"I say, Link," he called out, "you'd better find out if Mrs. Vrain is +really the wife of this dead man before you are guided by her story!" +After which speech he hurriedly withdrew, leaving Link to digest it at +his leisure. + +At first, Link was indignant that Denzil should deem him so easily +hoodwinked as the speech implied. Afterwards he began to laugh. + +"Wife!" said he to himself. "Of course she is the man's wife! She knows +too much about him to be otherwise; but even granting that Denzil is +right--which I don't for a moment admit--there is no need for me to +prove the truth of his assumption. If this pretty woman is not the true +wife of Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever this dead man's name actually may +be, the assurance company will get at the rights of the matter before +paying over the money." + +Subsequent events reflected credit on this philosophical speech and +determination of Mr. Link. Had Mrs. Vrain been an imposter, her house of +cards would have been knocked down, as soon as reared, by the searching +inquiry instituted by the Sirius Assurance Company. It appeared that the +life of the late Mark Vrain was on the books of the company for no less +a sum than twenty thousand pounds; and under the will this was to be +paid over to Lydia Vrain, _nee_ Clyne. The widow, aided by her +father--who was a shrewd business man, in spite of his innocent +looks--and the family lawyer of the Vrains, went systematically to work +to establish her own identity, the death of her husband, and her +consequent right to the money. + +The first thing to be done was to prove that the dead man was really +Vrain. There was some little difficulty in obtaining an order from the +authorities for the opening of the grave and the exhumation of the body; +but finally the consent of those in power was obtained, and there was +little difficulty in the identification of the remains. The lawyer, Mr. +Clyne, Mrs. Vrain herself, and several people brought up from Bath by +the assurance company, swore that the corpse--buried under the false +name of Berwin--was that of Mark Vrain, for decomposition had not +proceeded so far but what the features could be recognised. There was +even no need to unwrap the body from its cerements, as the face itself, +and the scar thereon, were quite sufficient for the friends of the +deceased to swear to the corpse. Thereupon the assurance company, on the +fullest of evidence, was compelled to admit that their client was dead, +and expressed themselves ready to pay over the money to Mrs. Vrain as +soon as the will should be proved. + +Pending the legal process necessary to do this, the widow made a great +parade of her grief and affection for the dead man. She had the body +re-enclosed in a new and sumptuous coffin, and removed the same to +Berwin Manor, near Bath, where, after a short lapse of time, it was duly +placed in the family vault of the Vrains. + +The widow, having thus disposed of her husband, bethought herself of her +stepdaughter, who at that time was on a visit to some friends in +Australia. A long letter, giving full details, was despatched by Mrs. +Vrain, and the daughter was requested, both by the widow and the lawyer, +to come back to England at once and take up her abode in Berwin Manor, +which, with its surrounding acres, had been left to her under the will. + +Matters connected with the death and its consequences having been +disposed of thus far, Mrs. Vrain sat down, and, folding her hands, +waited till such time as she would receive the assurance money, and +begin a new life as a wealthy and fascinating widow. Every one said that +the little woman had behaved very well, and that Vrain--weak-headed as +he was supposed to be--had shown excellent judgment in dividing his +property, real and personal, so equally between the two claimants. Miss +Vrain, as became the child of the first wife, received the home and +acres of her ancestors; while the second wife obtained the assurance +money, which every one candidly admitted she quite deserved for having +sacrificed her youth and beauty to an old man like Vrain. In those days, +when all these details were being settled, the widow was the most +popular personage in Bath. + +Matters went smoothly with Mrs. Vrain in every respect. The will was +duly proved, the twenty thousand pounds was duly paid over; so, finding +herself rich, the widow came with her father to take up her abode in +London. When settled there one of her first acts was to send a note to +Lucian, telling him that she was in town. The good looks of the young +man had made a considerable impression on Mrs. Vrain, and she appeared +anxious to renew the acquaintance, although it had been so +inauspiciously begun in the purlieus of the police courts. + +On his part, Lucian lost no time in paying his respects, for after the +searching inquiry conducted by the Sirius Assurance Company, out of +which ordeal Mrs. Vrain had emerged unscathed, he began to think that he +had been too hasty in condemning the little widow. So he called upon her +almost immediately after receiving the invitation, and found her, after +the lapse of three months, as pretty as ever, and clothed in less heavy +mourning. + +"It's real sweet of you to call, Mr. Denzil," said she vivaciously. "I +haven't seen anything of you since we met in Mr. Link's office. And +sakes! have I not had a heap of trouble since then?" + +"Your trouble has done you no harm, Mrs. Vrain. So far as your looks go, +three minutes, rather than three months, might have passed." + +"Oh, that's all right. I guess it's not good enough to cry one's self +sick for what can't be helped. But I want to ask you, Mr. Denzil, how +that policeman is progressing with the case." + +"He has found out nothing," replied Lucian, shaking his head, "and, so +far as I can see, there's not much chance of learning the truth." + +"I never thought there was," said Mrs. Vrain, with a shrug. "Seems to me +you don't get round much in this old country. Well, it don't seem as I +can do much more. I've told all I know, and I've offered a reward of +L500 to discover the man who stuck Mark. If he ain't found for dollars +he won't be found at all." + +"Probably not, Mrs. Vrain. It is now over three months since the crime +was committed, and every day makes the chance of discovery less." + +"But for all that, Diana Vrain's going on the trail, Mr. Denzil." + +"Diana Vrain! Who is she?" + +"My stepdaughter--Mark's only child. She was in Australia--out in the +wild west of that country--and only lately got the news of her father's +death. I got a letter from her last week, and it seems as she's coming +back here to find out who laid her poppa out." + +"I am afraid she'll not succeed," said Denzil dubiously. + +"She'll do her best to," replied Mrs. Vrain, with a shrug. "She's as +obstinate as a battery mule; but it's no use talking, she will have her +own way," and dismissing the subject of Miss Vrain, the pretty widow, +with an air of relief, talked on more frivolous subjects until Lucian +took his departure. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DIANA VRAIN + + +Although over three months had elapsed since the murder of Mark Vrain, +and the crime had been relegated to oblivion both by press and people, +curiosity concerning it was still active in Geneva Square. The gossips +in that talkative quarter had exhausted their tongues and imaginations +in surmising who had committed the deed, and how it had been +accomplished. + +It was now known that the deceased had been of a good county family, who +had left his pretty young wife in a fit of groundless suspicion; that he +had no enemies; and had withdrawn to the Silent House to save himself +from the machinations of purely imaginary beings. The general opinion +was that Vrain had been insane; but even this did not explain the reason +of his tragic and unforeseen death. + +Since the murder the Silent House had acquired a tenfold interest in the +eyes of all. The crime, added to its reputation for being haunted, +invested it with horror; and its commonplace looks assumed to fanciful +onlookers a grim and menacing aspect, in keeping with its blood-stained +floor and ghostly rooms. + +Disheartened by the late catastrophe, which had so greatly enhanced the +already evil reputation of the house, the landlord did not attempt to +relet it, as he knew very well that no tenant would be bold enough to +take it, even at a nominal rent. Mrs. Vrain had sold off the furniture +of the two apartments which her unfortunate husband had inhabited, and +now these were as bare and lonely as the rest of the rooms. + +The landlord made no effort to furbish up or renovate the mansion, +deeming that such expense would be useless; so No. 13, deserted by man, +and cursed by God, remained vacant and avoided. People came from far and +near to look at it, but no one entered its doors lest some evil fate +should befall them. Yet, in strange contradiction to the horror it +created in every breast, the houses on either side continued to be +occupied. + +Miss Greeb frequently took a peep across the way at the empty house, +with its curtainless, dusty windows and smokeless chimneys. She had +theorised often on the murder of Vrain, and being unable to come to any +reasonable conclusion, finally decided that a ghost--the ghost which +haunted the mansion--had committed the crime. In support of this +fantastic opinion she related to Lucian at least a score of stories in +which people foolishly sleeping in haunted rooms had been found dead in +the morning. + +"With black finger-marks on their throats," said Miss Greeb +dramatically, "and looks of horror in their eyes, and everything locked +up, just like it was in No. 13, to show that nothing but a ghost could +have killed them." + +"You forget, Miss Greeb," said Lucian flippantly, "poor Vrain was +stabbed with a stiletto. Ghosts don't use material weapons." + +"How do you know the dagger was a real one?" replied Miss Greeb, sinking +her voice to a horrified whisper. "Was it ever seen? No! Was it ever +found? No! The ghost took it away. Depend upon it, Mr. Denzil, it wasn't +flesh and blood as made a spirit of that crazy Berwin." + +"In that case, the ghostly criminal can't be hanged," said Denzil, with +a laugh. "But it's all nonsense, Miss Greeb. I am astonished that a +woman of your sense should believe in such rubbish." + +"Wiser people than I have faith in ghosts," retorted the landlady +obstinately. "Haven't you heard of the haunted house in a West End +square, where a man and a dog were found dead in the morning, with a +valet as gibbered awful ever afterwards?" + +"Pooh! Pooh! That's a story of Bulwer Lytton's." + +"It is not, Mr. Denzil--it's a fact. You can see the very house in the +square for yourself, and No. 13 is just such another." + +"Nonsense! Why, I'd sleep in No. 13 to-morrow night, just to prove that +your ghostly fears are all moonshine." + +Miss Greeb uttered a screech of alarm. "Mr. Denzil!" she cried, with +great energy, "sooner than you should do that, I'd--I'd--well, I don't +know what I'd do!" + +"Accuse me of stealing your silver spoons and have me locked up," said +Lucian, laughing. "Make yourself easy, Miss Greeb. I have no intention +of tempting Providence. All the same, I don't believe for one minute +that No. 13 is haunted." + +"Lights were seen flitting from room to room." + +"No doubt. Poor Vrain showed me over the house before he died. His +candle explains the lights." + +"They have been seen since his death," said Miss Greeb solemnly. + +"Then, as a ghost, Vrain must be walking about with the old woman +phantom who wears brocade and high-heeled shoes." + +Miss Greeb, seeing that she had a sceptic to deal with, retreated with +great dignity from the argument, but nevertheless to other people +maintained her opinion, with many facts drawn from her imagination and +from books on the supernatural compiled from the imagination--or, as the +various writers called it--the experience of others. Some agreed with +her, others laughed at her; but one and all acknowledged that, however +it came about, whether by ghostly or mortal means, the murder of Vrain +was a riddle never likely to be solved; and, with other events of a +like nature and mystery, it was relegated to the list of undiscovered +crimes. + +After several interviews with Link, the barrister was also inclined to +take this view of the matter. He found the detective quite discouraged +in his efforts to find the assassin. + +"I have been to Bath," said Link dismally. "I have examined, so far as I +was able, into the past life of Vrain, but I can find nothing likely to +throw light on the subject. He did not get on well with his wife, and +left Bath ten months before the murder. I tried to trace where he went +to, but could not. He vanished from Bath quite unexpectedly, and four +months later turned up in Geneva Square, as we know, but who killed him, +or why he was killed, I can't say. I'm afraid I'll have to give it up as +a bad job, Mr. Denzil." + +"What! and lose a reward of five hundred pounds!" said Lucian. + +"If it was five thousand, I must lose it," returned the dejected Link. +"This case beats me. I don't believe the murderer will ever be run +down." + +"Upon my word, I am inclined to agree with you," said Denzil, and +barrister and detective departed, each convinced that the Vrain case was +ended, and that in the face of the insuperable obstacles presented by it +there was not the slightest chance of avenging the murder of the +unfortunate man. The reading of the mystery was beyond mortal powers to +accomplish. + + * * * * * + +About the middle of April, nearly four months after the tragedy, Lucian +received a letter containing an invitation which caused him no little +astonishment. The note was signed Diana Vrain, and, having intimated +that the writer had returned only that week from Australia, requested +that Mr. Denzil would be kind enough to call the next day at the Royal +John Hotel in Kensington. Miss Vrain ended by stating that she had a +particular desire to converse with Mr. Denzil, and hoped that he would +not fail to keep the appointment. + +Wondering greatly how the lady--who was no doubt the stepdaughter +referred to by Mrs. Vrain--had obtained his address, and why she desired +to see him so particularly, Lucian, out of sheer curiosity, obeyed the +summons. Next day, at four o'clock--the appointed hour--he presented +himself as requested, and, on giving his name, was shown immediately +into the presence of his correspondent, who occupied a small private +sitting-room. + +When Miss Vrain rose to greet him, Lucian was amazed to see how +beautiful and stately she was. With dark hair and eyes, oval face, and +firm mouth, majestic figure and imperial gait, she moved towards him an +apparent queen. A greater contrast to Mrs. Vrain than her stepdaughter +can scarcely be imagined: the one was a frivolous, volatile fairy, the +other a dignified and reserved woman. She also was arrayed in black +garments, but these were made in the plainest manner, and showed none of +the coquetry of woe such as had characterised Mrs. Vrain's elaborate +costume. The look of sorrow on the face of Diana was in keeping with her +mourning apparel, and she welcomed Lucian with a subdued courtesy which +prepossessed him greatly in her favour. + +Quick in his likes and dislikes, the young man was as drawn towards this +beautiful, sad woman as formerly he had been repulsed by the feigned +grief and ensnaring glances of silly Mrs. Vrain. + +"I am much obliged to you for calling, Mr. Denzil," said Miss Vrain in a +deep voice, rather melancholy in its tone. "No doubt you wondered how I +obtained your address." + +"It did strike me as peculiar, I confess," said Lucian, taking a chair +to which she pointed, "but on considering the matter I fancied that Mrs. +Vrain had----" + +"Mrs. Vrain!" echoed Diana in a tone of contempt. "No! I have not seen +Mrs. Vrain since I returned, a week ago, to London. I got your address +from the detective who examined into the death of my most unhappy +father." + +"You have seen Link?" + +"Yes, and I know all that Link could tell me. He mentioned your name +frequently in his narrative, and gave me to understand that on two +occasions you had spoken with my father; therefore, I asked him to give +me your address, so that I might speak with you personally on the +matter." + +"I am quite at your service, Miss Vrain. I suppose you wish to learn +all that I know of the tragedy?" + +"I wish for more than that, Mr. Denzil," said Diana quietly. "I wish you +to help me in hunting down the assassin of my father." + +"What! Do you intend to reopen the case?" + +"Certainly; but I did not know that the case--as you call it--had been +closed. I have come home from Australia especially to devote myself to +this matter. I should have been in London long ago, but that out in +Australia I was with some friends in a part of the country where it is +difficult to get letters. As soon as Mrs. Vrain's letter about the +terrible end of my father came to hand I arranged my affairs and left at +once for England. Since my arrival I have seen Mr. Saker, our family +lawyer, and Mr. Link, the detective. They have told me all they know, +and now I wish to hear what you have to say." + +"I am afraid I cannot help you, Miss Vrain," said Lucian dubiously. + +"Ah! You refuse to help me?" + +"Oh, no! no! I shall only be too glad to do what I can," protested +Lucian, shocked that she should think him so hard-hearted, "but I know +of nothing likely to solve the mystery. Both myself and Link have done +our best to discover the truth, but without success." + +"Well, Mr. Denzil," said Diana, after a pause, "they often say that a +woman's wit can do more than a man's logic, so you and I must put our +heads together and discover the guilty person. Have you no suspicion?" + +"No. I have no suspicion," replied Lucian frankly. "Have you?" + +"I have. I suspect--a lady." + +"Mrs. Vrain?" + +"Yes. How do you know I meant her?" + +"Because at one time I suspected her myself." + +"You suspected rightly," replied Diana. "I believe that Mrs. Vrain +killed her husband." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A FAILURE + + +Denzil did not reply at once to the accusation levelled by Diana at Mrs. +Vrain, as he was too astonished at her vehemence to find his voice +readily. When he did speak, it was to argue on the side of the pretty +widow. + +"I think you must be mistaken," he said at length. + +"But, Mr. Denzil, you declared that you suspected her yourself!" + +"At one time, but not now," replied Lucian decisively, "because at the +time of the murder Mrs. Vrain was keeping Christmas in Berwin Manor." + +"Like Nero fiddling when Rome was burning," retorted Diana sharply; "but +you mistake my meaning. I do not say that Mrs. Vrain committed the crime +personally, but she inspired and guided the assassin." + +"And who is the assassin, in your opinion?" + +"Count Hercule Ferruci." + +"An Italian?" + +"As you may guess from the name." + +"Now, that is strange," cried Lucian, with some excitement, "for, from +the nature of the wound, I believe that your father was stabbed by an +Italian stiletto." + +"Aha!" said Diana, with satisfaction. "That strengthens the accusation I +bring against Ferruci." + +"And, again," continued Denzil, hardly listening to what she was saying, +"when I mentioned my suspicion about the stiletto in the hearing of Mrs. +Vrain, she fainted." + +"Which showed that her guilty conscience pricked her. Oh, I am sure of +it, Mr. Denzil! My stepmother and the count are the criminals!" + +"Our evidence, as yet, is only circumstantial," said Lucian cautiously. +"We must not jump to conclusions. At present I am completely in the dark +regarding this foreigner." + +"I can enlighten you, but it is a long story." + +"The longer the better," said Denzil, thinking he could hear Diana speak +and watch her face for hours without weariness. "I wish for all details, +then I shall be in a better position to judge." + +"What you say is only reasonable, Mr. Denzil. I shall tell you my +father's history from the time he went to Italy some three years ago. It +was in Italy--to be precise, in Florence--that he met with Lydia Clyne +and her father." + +"One moment," said Denzil. "Before you begin, will you tell me what you +think of the couple?" + +"Think!" cried Diana disdainfully. "I think they are a couple of +adventurers; but she is the worst of the two. The old man, Jabez Clyne, +I think moderately well of; he is a weak fool under the thumb of his +daughter. If you only knew what I have suffered at the hands of that +golden-haired doll!" + +"I should think you could hold your own, Miss Vrain." + +"Not against treachery and lies!" retorted Diana fiercely. "It is not my +habit to employ such weapons, but my stepmother used no others. It was +she who drove me out of the house and made me exile myself to the +Antipodes to escape her falseness. And it was she," added Miss Vrain +solemnly, "who treated my father so ill as to drive him out of his own +home. Lydia Vrain is not the doll you think her to be; she is a false, +cruel, clever adventuress, and I hate her--I hate her with all my heart +and soul!" + +This feminine outburst of anger rather bewildered Denzil, who saw very +plainly that Diana was by no means the lofty angel he had taken her to +be in the first appreciation of her beauty. But her passion of the +moment suited so well with her stately looks that she seemed rather a +Margaret of Anjou defying York and his faction than an injured woman +concerned with so slight a thing as the rebuke of one of her own sex for +whom she had little love. Diana saw the surprise expressed on Lucian's +face, and her own flushed a little with annoyance that she should have +betrayed her feelings so openly. With a vexed laugh, she recovered her +temper and composed demeanour. + +"You see I am no saint, Mr. Denzil," she said, resuming her seat, for +in her anger she had risen to her feet. "But even if I were one, I could +not have restrained myself from speaking as I did. When you know my +stepmother as well as I do--but I must talk calmly about her, or you +will not understand my reasons for thinking her concerned in the +terrible fate of my poor father." + +"I am all attention, Miss Vrain." + +"I'll tell you all I know, as concisely as possible," she replied, "and +you can judge for yourself if I am right or wrong. Three years ago my +father's health was very bad. Since the death of my mother--now some ten +years--he had devoted himself to hard study, and had lived more or less +the life of a recluse in Berwin Manor. He was writing a history of the +Elizabethan dramatists, and became so engrossed with the work that he +neglected his health, and consequently there was danger that he might +suffer from brain fever. The doctors ordered him to leave his books and +to travel, in order that his attention might be distracted by new scenes +and new people. I was to go with him, to see that he did not resume his +studies, so, in an evil hour for us both, we went to Italy." + +"Your father was not mad?" said Lucian, thinking of the extraordinary +behaviour of Vrain in the square. + +"Oh, no!" cried Diana indignantly. "He was a trifle weak in the head +from overwork but quite capable of looking after himself." + +"Did he indulge in strong drink?" + +Miss Vrain looked scandalised. "My father was singularly abstemious in +eating and drinking," she said stiffly. "Why do you ask such a +question?" + +"I beg your pardon," replied Lucian, with all humility, "but it was +reported in Geneva Square that Berwin--the name by which your father was +known--drank too much; and when I met him he was certainly not--not +quite himself," finished the barrister delicately. + +"No doubt his troubles drove him to take more than was good for him," +said Diana in a low voice. "Yet I wonder at it, for his health was none +of the best. Sometimes, I admit, he took sleeping draughts +and--and--drugs." + +"He was consumptive," said Lucian, noticing Diana's hesitation to speak +plainly. + +"His chest was weak, and consumption may have developed itself, but when +I left England, almost two years back, he was certainly not suffering +from that disease. But I see how it is," said Diana, wringing her hands. +"During my short absence, and under the tyranny of his wife, his +physical health and moral principles gave way. Drink and consumption! +Ah! God! were not these ills enough but what the woman must add murder +to cap them both?" + +"We do not know yet if she is guilty," said Lucian quietly. "Will you go +on with your story, Miss Vrain? Later on we can discuss these matters, +when I am in possession of the facts. You say it was an evil hour when +you went to Italy." + +"It was indeed," said Diana sorrowfully, "for in Florence, at the +Pension Donizetti, on the Lung Arno, we met with Lydia Clyne and her +father. They had only lately arrived in Italy--from New York, I +suppose--but already she was said to be engaged to a needy Italian +nobleman named Hercule Ferruci." + +"Then I suppose the Clynes were rich," said Lucian, "for I know those +Italian nobles too well to suspect that this Count Ferruci would pay +attention to any one but an heiress." + +"She was supposed to be rich, Mr. Denzil. All Americans, for some +reason, are supposed to be millionaires; but after she married my father +I learned that Mr. Clyne had a very moderate fortune indeed, and his +daughter nothing. It was for that reason that Lydia threw over the +count, to whom she was almost engaged, and began to pay attention to my +father. She heard talk of his estates in the gossip of the Pension, and +believing him to be rich, she decided to marry him instead of throwing +herself away in a romantic fit on Ferruci." + +"Did she love this Italian?" + +"Yes, I am sure she did; and, what is more, she loves him still!" + +"What! Is Count Ferruci still acquainted with Mrs. Vrain?" + +"He is, as you shall hear. Miss Clyne, as I said, determined to make a +rich marriage by becoming the second Mrs. Vrain. I never liked her, +knowing that she was false and frivolous; but though I did my best to +stop the marriage, my father would not be controlled. You know that this +woman is pretty and fascinating." + +"She is certainly the first, but not the last," interposed Lucian. + +"At all events," resumed Diana disconsolately, "she was sufficiently +fascinating to snare my poor foolish old father. We remained four months +in Florence, and before we left it Lydia Clyne became Mrs. Vrain. I +could do nothing with my father, as he was possessed of the headstrong +passion of an old man, and, moreover, Lydia had learned to know his weak +points so well that she could twist him round her finger. But, angered +as I was at my father's folly, I loved him too well to leave him at the +time, therefore I returned to Berwin Manor with the pair. + +"There, Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Vrain, her face growing dark, "Lydia +made my life so wretched, and insulted me so openly, that I was forced, +out of self-respect, to leave the house. I had some relatives in +Australia, to whom I went out on a visit. Alas! I wish I had not done +so; yet remain with my colonial cousins I did, until recalled to England +by the terrible intelligence of my father's untimely end." + +"So the marriage was a failure?" + +"Yes; even before I left, Lydia openly neglected my father. I am bound +to say that Mr. Clyne, who is much the better of the two, tried to make +her conduct herself in a more becoming manner. But she defied him and +every one else. After my departure I received letters from a friend of +mine, who told me that Lydia had invited Count Ferruci over on a visit. +My father, finding that he could do nothing, and seeing what a mistake +he had made, returned to his books, and soon became ill again. Instead +of looking after him, Lydia--as I heard--encouraged him to study hard, +hoping, no doubt, that he would die, and that she would be free to marry +Count Ferruci. Then my father left the house." + +"Why? That is a very necessary detail." + +Diana thought for a moment, then shook her head despondingly. "That I +cannot explain," she said, with a sigh, "as I was in Australia at the +time. But I expect that his brain grew weaker with study, and perhaps +with the strong drink and drugs which this woman drove him to take. No +doubt the poor man grew jealous of Ferruci; and, unable to assert +himself, seeing how ill he was, left the house and retired to Geneva +Square to meet his death, as we know." + +"But all this is supposition," remonstrated Lucian. "We really do not +know why Mr. Vrain left the house." + +"What does Lydia say?" + +"She gives no feasible explanation." + +"Nor will she. Oh!" cried Diana, "is there no way of getting at the +truth of this matter? I feel certain that Lydia and the Count are +guilty!" + +"You have no proofs," said Denzil, shaking his head. + +"No proofs! Why, you said yourself that a stiletto----" + +"That is a supposition on my part," interrupted Lucian quickly. "I +cannot say for certain that the deed was committed with such a weapon. +Besides, if it was, how can you connect the Italian with the deed?" + +"Can we not find a proof?" + +"I fear not." + +"But if we search the house?" + +"There is little use in doing that," rejoined Lucian. "However, if it +will give you any satisfaction, Miss Vrain, I will take you over the +house to-morrow morning." + +"Do!" cried Diana, "and we may find proof of Lydia's guilt in a way she +little dreams of. Good-bye, Mr. Denzil--till to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON + + +The beauty and high spirit of Diana made so deep an impression on Lucian +that he determined to aid her by every means in his power in searching +for the assassin of her father. As yet Denzil had reached the age of +twenty-five without having been attracted in any marked degree towards +woman-kind; or, to put it more precisely, he had not yet been in love. +But now it seemed that the hour which comes to all of Adam's sons had +come to him; for on leaving Diana he thought of nothing else but her +lovely face and charming smile, and, until he met her again, her image +was never absent from his mind. + +He took but a languid interest in his daily business or social pursuits, +and, wrapped up in inwardly contemplating the beauties of Diana, he +appeared to move amongst his fellow-men like one in a dream. And dreamer +he was, for there was no substantial basis for his passion. + +Many people--particularly those without imagination--scoff at the idea +that love can be born in a moment, but such is often the case, for all +their ill-advised jibes. A man may be brought into contact with the +loveliest and most brilliant of women, yet remain heart-whole; yet +unexpectedly a face--not always the most beautiful--will fire him with +sudden fervour, even against his better judgment. Love is not an affair +of reason, to be clipped and measured by logic and calculation; but a +devouring, destroying passion, impatient of restraint, and utterly +regardless of common sense. It is born of a look, of a smile, of a sigh, +of a word; it springs up and fructifies more speedily than did Jonah's +gourd, and none can say how it begins or how it will end. It is the ever +old, ever new riddle of creation, and the more narrowly its mystery is +looked into the more impossible does it become of solution. The lover of +to-day, with centuries of examples at his back, is no wiser in knowledge +than was his father Adam. + +Although Lucian was thus stricken mad after the irrational methods of +Cupid, he had sufficient sense not to examine too minutely into the +reasons for this sudden passion. He was in love, and admitting as much +to himself, there was an end of all argument. The long lane of his +youthful and loveless life had turned in another direction at the +signpost of a woman's face, and down the new vista the lover saw +flowering meadows, silver streams, bowers of roses, and all the +landscape of Arcadia. He was a piping swain and Diana a complaisant +shepherdess; but they had not yet entered into the promised Arcadia, and +might never do so unless Diana was as kindly as he wished her to be. + +Lucian was in love with Diana, but as yet he could not flatter himself +that she was in love with him, so he resolved to win her affection--if +it was free to be bestowed--by doing her will, and her will was to +revenge the death of her father. This was hardly a pleasant task to +Lucian in his then peace-with-all-the-world frame of mind; but seeing no +other way to gain a closer intimacy with the lady of his love, he took +the bitter with the sweet, and set his shoulder to the wheel. + +The next morning, therefore, Lucian called on the landlord of No. 13 and +requested the keys of the house. But it appeared that these were not in +the landlord's keeping at the moment. + +"I gave them to Mrs. Kebby, the charwoman," said Mr. Peacock, a retired +grocer, who owned the greater part of the square. "The house is in such +a state that I thought I'd have it cleaned up a bit." + +"With a view to a possible tenant, I suppose?" + +"I don't know," replied Peacock, with a rueful shake of his bald head, +"although I'm hoping against hope. But what with the murder and the +ghost, there don't seem much chance of letting it. What might you be +wanting in No. 13, Mr. Denzil?" + +"I wish to examine every room, to find, if possible, a clue to this +crime," explained Lucian, suppressing the fact that he was to have a +companion. + +"You'll find nothing, sir. I've looked into every room myself. However, +you'll find Mrs. Kebby cleaning up, and she'll let you in if you ring +the bell. You aren't thinking of taking the house yourself, I suppose?" +added Peacock wishfully. + +"No, thank you. My nerves are in good order just now; I don't want to +upset them by inhabiting a house with so evil a reputation." + +"Ah! that's what every one says," sighed the grocer. "I wish that +Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever he called himself, had chosen some other +place to be killed in." + +"I'm afraid people who meet with unexpected deaths can't arrange these +little matters beforehand," said Lucian drily, and walked away, leaving +the unfortunate landlord still lamenting over his unlucky possession of +a haunted and blood-stained mansion. + +Before going to No. 13, Lucian walked down the street leading into +Geneva Square, in order to meet Diana, who was due at eleven o'clock. +Punctual as the barrister was, he found that Miss Vrain, in her +impatience, was before him; for he arrived to see her dismiss her cab at +the end of the street, and met her half way down. + +His heart gave a bound as he saw her graceful figure, and he felt the +hot blood rise to his cheeks as he advanced to meet her. + +Diana, quite unconscious of having, like her namesake, the moon, caused +this springtide of the heart, could not forbear a glance of surprise, +but greeted her coadjutor without embarrassment and with all +friendliness. Her thoughts were too taken up with her immediate task of +exploring the scene of the crime to waste time in conjecturing the +reason of the young man's blushes. Yet the instinct of her sex might +have told her the truth, and probably it would have but that it was +blunted, or rather not exercised, by reason of her preoccupation. + +"Have you the key, Mr. Denzil?" said she eagerly. + +"No; but I have seen the landlord, and he has given us permission to go +over the house. A charwoman who is cleaning up the place will let us +in." + +"A charwoman," repeated Miss Vrain, stopping short, "and cleaning up the +house! Is it, then, about to receive a new tenant?" + +"Oh, no; but the landlord wishes it to be aired and swept; to keep it in +some degree of order, I presume." + +"What is the name of this woman?" + +"Mrs. Kebby." + +"The same mentioned in the newspaper reports as having waited on my +unhappy father?" + +"The same," replied Lucian, with some hesitation; "but I would advise +you, Miss Vrain, not to question her too closely about your father." + +"Why not? Ah! I see; you think her answers about his drinking habits +will give me pain. No matter; I am prepared for all that. I don't blame +him so much as those who drove him to intemperance. Is this the house?" +she said, looking earnestly at the neglected building before which they +were standing. + +"Yes," replied Lucian, ringing the bell, "it was in this house that your +father came to his untimely end. And here is Mrs. Kebby." + +That amiable crone had opened the door while the young man was speaking, +and now stood eyeing her visitors with a blear-eyed look of dark +suspicion. + +"What is't ye want?" she demanded, with a raven-like croak. + +"Mr. Peacock has given this lady and myself permission to go over the +house," responded Lucian, trying to pass. + +"And how do I know if he did?" grumbled Mrs. Kebby, blocking the way. + +"Because I tell you so." + +"And because I am the daughter of Mr. Vrain," said Diana, stepping +forward. + +"Lord love ye, miss! are ye?" croaked Mrs. Kebby, stepping aside. "And +ye've come to look at your pa's blood, I'll be bound." + +Diana turned pale and shuddered, but controlling herself by an effort of +will, she swept past the old woman and entered the sitting-room. "Is +this the place?" she asked Lucian, who was holding the door open. + +"That it is, miss," cried the charwoman, who had hobbled after them, +"and yonder is the poor gentleman's blood; it soaked right through the +carpet," added Mrs. Kebby, with ghoulish relish. "Lor! 'ow it must 'ave +poured out!" + +"Hold your tongue, woman!" said Lucian roughly, seeing that Diana looked +as though about to faint. "Get on with your work!" + +"I'm going; it's upstairs I'm sweeping," growled the crone, retreating. +"You'll bring me to you if ye give a holler. I'll show ye round for a +shilling." + +"You shall have double if you leave us alone," said Lucian, pointing to +the door. + +Mrs. Kebby's blear eyes lighted up, and she leered amiably at the +couple. + +"I dessay it's worth two shillings," she said, chuckling hoarsely. "Oh, +I'm not so old but what I don't know two turtle doves. He! he! To kiss +over yer father's blood! Lawks! what a match 'twill be! He! he!" + +Still laughing hoarsely, Mrs. Kebby, in the midst of her unholy joy, was +pushed out of the door by Lucian, who immediately afterwards turned to +see if Diana had overheard her ill-chosen and ominous words. But Miss +Vrain, with a hard, white face, was leaning against the wall, and gave +no sign of such knowledge. Her eyes were fixed on a dull-looking red +stain of a dark hue, irregular in shape, and her hands the while were +pressed closely against her bosom, as though she felt a cruel pain in +her heart. With bloodless cheek and trembling lip the daughter looked +upon the evidence of her father's death. Lucian was alarmed by her +unnatural pallor. + +"Miss Vrain!" he exclaimed, starting forward, "you are ill! Let me lead +you out of this house." + +"No!" said Diana, waving him back. "Not till we examine every inch of +it; don't speak to me, please. I wish to use my eyes rather than my +tongue." + +Denzil, both as a lover and a friend, respected this emotion of the poor +young lady, so natural under the circumstances; and in silence conducted +her from room to room. All were empty and still dusty, for Mrs. Kebby's +broom swept sufficiently light, and the footfalls of the pair echoed +hollowly in the vast spaces. + +Diana looked into every corner, examined every fireplace, attempted +every window, but in no place could she find any extraneous object +likely to afford a clue to the crime. They went down into the basement +and explored the kitchen, the servant's parlour, the scullery, and the +pantry, but with the same unsatisfactory result. The kitchen door, which +led out into the back yard, showed signs of having been lately opened; +but when Diana drew Lucian's attention to this fact, as the murderer +having possibly entered thereby, he assured her that it had only lately +been opened by the detective, Link, when he was searching for clues. + +"I saw this door," added Lucian, striking it with his cane, "a week +before your father was killed. He showed it to me himself, to prove that +no one could have entered the house during his absence; and I was +satisfied then, from the rusty condition of the bolts, and the absence +of the key in the lock, that the door had not been opened--at all +events, during his tenancy." + +"Then how could those who killed him have entered?" + +"That is what I wish to learn, Miss Vrain. But why do you speak in the +plural?" + +"Because I believe that Lydia and Ferruci killed my father." + +"But I have proved to you that Mrs. Vrain remained at Bath." + +"I know it," replied Diana quickly, "but she sent Ferruci up to kill my +father, and I speak in the plural because I think--in a moral sense--she +is as guilty as the Italian." + +"That may be, Miss Vrain, but as yet we have not proved their guilt." + +Diana made no answer, but, followed by Lucian, ascended to the upper +part of the house, where they found Mrs. Kebby sweeping so vigorously +that she had raised a kind of dust storm. As soon as she saw the couple +she hobbled towards them to cajole them, if possible, into giving her +money. + +For a few moments Diana looked at her haughtily, not relishing the +familiarity of the old dame, but unexpectedly she stepped forward with a +look of excitement. + +"Where did you get that ribbon?" she asked Mrs Kebby, pointing to a +scrap of personal adornment on the neck of the rusty old creature. + +"This?" croaked Mrs. Kebby. "I picked it up in the kitchen downstairs. +It's a pretty red and yaller thing, but of no value, miss, so I don't +s'pose you'll take it orf me." + +Paying no attention to this whimpering, Diana twitched the ribbon out of +the old woman's hands and examined it. It was a broad yellow ribbon of +rich silk, spotted with red--very noticeably and evidently of foreign +manufacture. + +"It is the same!" cried Diana, greatly excited. "Mr. Denzil, I bought +this ribbon myself in Florence!" + +"Well," said Lucian, wondering at her excitement, "and what does that +prove?" + +"This: that a stiletto which my father bought in Florence, at the same +time, has been used to kill him! I tied this ribbon myself round the +handle of the stiletto!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +FURTHER DISCOVERIES + + +The silence which followed Diana's announcement regarding the ribbon and +stiletto--for Lucian kept silence out of sheer astonishment--was broken +by the hoarse voice of Mrs. Kebby: + +"If ye want the ribbon, miss, I'll not say no to a shilling. With what +your good gentleman promised, that will be three as I'm ready to take," +and Mrs. Kebby held out a dirty claw for the silver. + +"You'll sell it, will you!" cried out Diana indignantly, pouncing down +on the harridan. "How dare you keep what isn't yours? If you had shown +the detective this," shaking the ribbon in Mrs. Kebby's face, "he might +have caught the criminal!" + +"Pardon me," interposed Lucian, finding his voice, "I hardly think so, +Miss Vrain; for no one but yourself could have told that the ribbon +adorned the stiletto. Where did you see the weapon last?" + +"In the library at Berwin Manor. I hung it up on the wall myself, by +this ribbon." + +"Are you sure it is the same ribbon?" + +"I am certain," replied Diana emphatically. "I cannot be mistaken; the +colour and pattern are both peculiar. Where did you find it?" she +added, turning to Mrs. Kebby. + +"In the kitchen, I tell ye," growled the old woman sullenly. "I only +found it this blessed morning. 'Twas in a dark corner, near the door as +leads down to the woodshed. How was I to know 'twas any good?" + +"Did you find anything else?" asked Lucian mildly. + +"No, I didn't, sir." + +"Not a stiletto?" demanded Diana, putting the ribbon in her pocket. + +"I don't know what's a stiletter, miss; but I didn't find nothing; and I +ain't a thief, though some people as sets themselves above others by +taking ribbons as doesn't belong to 'em mayn't be much good." + +"The ribbon is not yours," said Diana haughtily. + +"Yes it are! Findings is keepings with me!" answered Mrs. Kebby. + +"Don't anger her," whispered Denzil, touching Miss Vrain's arm. "We may +find her useful." + +Diana looked from him to the old woman, and opened her purse, at the +sight of which Mrs. Kebby's sour face relaxed. When Miss Vrain gave her +half a sovereign she quite beamed with joy. "The blessing of heaven on +you, my dear," she said, with a curtsey. "Gold! good gold! Ah! this is a +brave day's work for me--thirteen blessed shillings!" + +"Ten, you mean, Mrs. Kebby!" + +"Oh, no, sir," cried Mrs. Kebby obsequiously, "the lady gave me ten, +bless her heart, but you've quite forgot your three." + +"I said two." + +"Ah! so you did, sir. I'm a poor schollard at 'rithmetic." + +"You're clever enough to get money out of people," said Diana, who was +disgusted at the avarice of the hag. "However, for the present you must +be content with what I have given you. If, in cleaning this house, you +find any other article, whatever it may be, you shall have another ten +shillings, on consideration that you take it at once to Mr. Denzil." + +Mrs. Kebby, who was tying up the piece of gold in the corner of her +handkerchief, nodded her old head with much complacency. "I'll do it, +miss; that is, if the gentleman will pay on delivery. I like cash." + +"You shall have cash," said Lucian, laughing; and then, as Diana +intimated her intention of leaving the house, he descended the stairs in +her company. + +Miss Vrain kept silence until they were outside in the sunshine, when +she cast an upward glance at the warm blue sky, dappled with light +clouds. + +"I am glad to be out of that house," she said, with a shudder. "There is +something in its dark and freezing atmosphere which chills my spirits." + +"It is said to be haunted, you know," said Lucian carelessly; then, +after a pause, he spoke on the subject which was uppermost in his mind. +"Now that you have this piece of evidence, Miss Vrain, what do you +intend to do?" + +"Make sure that I have made no mistake, Mr. Denzil. I shall go down to +Berwin Manor this afternoon. If the stiletto is still hanging on the +library wall by its ribbon, I shall admit my mistake; if it is absent, +why then I shall return to town and consult with you as to what is best +to be done. You know I rely on you." + +"I shall do whatever you wish, Miss Vrain," said Lucian fervently. + +"It is very good of you," replied the lady gratefully, "For I have no +right to take up your time in this manner." + +"You have every right--that is, I mean--I mean," stammered Denzil, +thinking from the surprised look of Miss Vrain that he had gone too far +at so early a stage of their acquaintance. "I mean that as a briefless +barrister I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be too happy +to place it and myself at your service. And moreover," he added in a +lighter tone, "I have some selfish interest in the matter, also, for it +is not every one who finds so difficult a riddle as this to solve. I +shall never rest easy in my mind until I unravel the whole of this +tangled skein." + +"How good you are!" cried Diana, impulsively extending her hand. "It is +as impossible for me to thank you sufficiently now for your kindness as +it will be to reward you hereafter, should we succeed." + +"As to my reward," said Lucian, retaining her hand longer than was +necessary, "we can decide what I merit when your father's death is +avenged." + +Diana coloured and turned away her eyes, withdrawing her hand in the +meantime from the too warm clasp of the young man. A sense of his +meaning was suddenly borne in upon her by look and clasp, and she felt a +maidenly confusion at the momentary boldness of this undeclared lover. +However, with feminine tact she laughed off the hint, and shortly +afterwards took her leave, promising to communicate as speedily as +possible with Lucian regarding the circumstances of her visit to Bath. + +The barrister wished to escort her back to the Royal John Hotel in +Kensington, but Miss Vrain, guessing his feelings, would not permit +this; so Lucian, hat in hand, was left standing in Geneva Square, while +his divinity drove off in a prosaic hansom. With her went the glory of +the sunlight, the sweetness of the spring; and Denzil, more in love than +ever, sighed hugely as he walked slowly back to his lodgings. + +For doleful moods, hard work and other interests are the sole cure; +therefore, that same afternoon Lucian returned to explore the Silent +House on his own account. It had struck him as suggestive that the +parti-coloured ribbon to which Diana attached such importance should +have been found in so out-of-the-way a corner as the threshold of the +door which conducted to what Mrs. Kebby, with characteristic +misrepresentation, called the woodshed. In reality the place in +question was a cellar, which extended under the soil of the back yard, +and was lighted from the top by a skylight placed on a level with the +ground. + +On being admitted again by Mrs. Kebby, and sending that ancient female +to her Augean task of cleansing the house, Lucian descended to the +basement in order to examine kitchen and cellar more particularly. If, +as Diana stated, the ribbon had been knotted loosely about the hilt of +the stiletto, it must have fallen off unnoticed by the assassin when, +weapon in hand, he was retreating from the scene of crime. + +"He must have come down here from the sitting-room," mused Denzil, as he +stood in the cool, damp kitchen. "And--as the ribbon was found by Mrs. +Kebby near yonder door--it is most probable that he left the kitchen by +that passage for the cellar. Now it remains for me to find out how he +made his exit from the cellar; and also I must look for the stiletto, +which he possibly dropped in his flight, as he did the ribbon." + +While thus soliloquising, Denzil lighted a candle which he had taken the +precaution to bring with him for the purpose of making his underground +explorations. Having thus provided himself with means to dispel the +darkness, he stepped into the door and descended the stone stairs which +led to the cellars. + +At the foot of the steps he found himself in a passage running from the +front to the back of the house, and forthwith turned to the right in +order to reach the particular cellar, which was dug out in the manner of +a cave under the back yard. + +This, as Lucian ascertained by walking round, was faced with stone and +had bins on all four sides for the storage of wine. Overhead there was a +glass skylight, of which the glass was so dusty and dirty that only a +few rays of light could struggle into the murky depths below. But what +particularly attracted the attention of Denzil was a short wooden ladder +lying on the stone pavement, and which probably was used to reach the +wine in the upper bins. + +"And I should not be surprised if it had been used for another purpose," +murmured Lucian, glancing upward at the square aperture of the skylight. + +It struck him as possible that a stranger could enter thereby and +descend by the ladder. To test the truth of this he reared the ladder in +the middle of the cellar so that its top rung rested against the lower +edge of the square overhead. Ascending carefully--for the ladder was by +no means stout--he pushed the glass frame upward and found that it +yielded easily to a moderate amount of strength. Climbing up, step after +step, Lucian arose through the aperture like a genie out of the earth, +and soon found that he could jump easily out of the cellar into the +yard. + +"Good!" he exclaimed, much gratified by this discovery. "I now see how +the assassin entered. No wonder the kitchen door was bolted and barred, +and that no one was seen to visit Vrain by the front door. Any one who +knew the position of that skylight could obtain admission easily, at any +hour, by descending the ladder and passing through cellar and kitchen to +the upper part of the house. So much is clear, but I must next discover +how those who entered got into this yard." + +And, indeed, there seemed no outlet, for the yard was enclosed on three +sides by a fence of palings the height of a man, and rendered impervious +to damp by a coating of tar; on the fourth side by the house itself. +Only over the fence--which was no insuperable obstacle--could a stranger +have gained access to the yard; and towards the fence opposite to the +house Lucian walked. In it there was no gate, or opening of any kind, so +it would appear that to come into the yard a stranger would need to +climb over, a feat easily achieved by a moderately active man. + +As Denzil examined this frail barrier his eye was caught by a fluttering +object on the left--that is, the side in a line with the skylight. This +he found was the scrap of a woman's veil of thin black gauze spotted +with velvet. At once his thoughts reverted to the shadow of the woman on +the blind, and the suspicions of Diana Vrain. + +"Great heavens!" he thought, "can that doll of a Lydia be guilty, after +all?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE VEIL AND ITS OWNER + + +As may be surmised, Lucian was considerably startled by the discovery of +this important evidence so confirmative of Diana's suspicions. Yet the +knowledge which Link had gained relative to Mrs. Vrain's remaining at +Berwin Manor to keep Christmas seemed to contradict the fact; and he +could by no means reconcile her absence with the presence on the fence +of the fragment of gauze; still less with the supposition that she must +have climbed over a tolerably difficult obstacle to enter the yard, let +alone the necessity--by no means easy to a woman--of descending into the +disused cellar by means of a shaky and fragile ladder. + +"After all," thought Lucian, when he was seated that same evening at his +dinner, "I am no more certain that the veil is the property of Mrs. +Vrain than I am that she was the woman whose shadow I saw on the blind. +Whosoever it was that gained entrance by passing over fence and through +cellar, must have come across the yard belonging to the house facing the +other road. Therefore, the person must be known to the owner of that +house, and I must discover who the owner is. Miss Greeb will know." + +Lucian made this last remark with the greatest confidence, as he was +satisfied, from a long acquaintance with his landlady, that there was +very little concerning her own neighbourhood of which she was ignorant. +The result verified his belief, for when Miss Greeb came in to clear the +table--a duty she invariably undertook so as to have a chance of +conversing with her admired lodger--she was able to afford him the +fullest information on the subject. The position of the house in +question; the name of its owner; the character of its tenants; she was +thoroughly well posted up in every item, and willingly imparted her +knowledge with much detail and comment. + +"No. 9 Jersey Street," said she, unhesitatingly; "that is the number of +the house at the back of the haunted mansion, Mr. Denzil. I know it as +well as I know my ten fingers." + +"To whom does it belong?" asked Lucian. + +"Mr. Peacock; he owns most of the property round about here, having +bought up the land when the place was first built on. He's seventy years +of age, you know, Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Greeb conversationally, +"and rich!--Lord! I don't know how rich he is! Building houses cheap and +letting them dear; he has made more out of that than in sanding his +sugar and chicorying his coffee. He----" + +"What is the name of the tenant?" interrupted Lucian, cutting short +this rapid sketch of Peacock's life. + +"Mrs. Bensusan, one of the largest women hereabouts." + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Fat, Mr. Denzil. She turns the scale at eighteen stone, and has pretty +well broke every weighing machine in the place." + +"What reputation has she, Miss Greeb?" + +"Oh, pretty good," said the little woman, shrugging her shoulders, +"though they do say she overcharges and underfeeds her lodgers." + +"She keeps a boarding-house, then?" + +"Well, she lets rooms," explained Miss Greeb in a very definite manner, +"and those who live in them supply their own food, and pay for service +and kitchen fire." + +"Who is with her now?" + +"No one," replied the landlady promptly. "She's had her bill up these +three months. Her last lodger left about Christmas." + +"What is his name--or her name?" + +"Oh, it was a 'he,'" said Miss Greeb, smiling. + +"Mrs. Bensusan prefers gentlemen, who are out of doors all day, to +ladies muddling and meddling all day about the house. I must say I do, +too, Mr. Denzil," ended the lady, with a fascinating glance. + +"What is his name, Miss Greeb?" repeated Lucian, quite impervious to the +hint. + +"Let me see," said Miss Greeb, discomfited at the result of her failure. +"A queer name that had to do with payments. Bill as the short for +William. No, it wasn't that, although it does suggest an account. +Quarterday? No. But it had something to do with quarter-days. Rent!" +finished Miss Greeb triumphantly. "Rent, with a 'W' before it." + +"W-r-e-n-t!" spelled Lucian. + +"Yes. Wrent! Mr. Wrent. A strange name, Mr. Denzil--a kind of charade, +as I may say. He was with Mrs. Bensusan six months; came to her house +about the time Mr. Berwin hired No. 13." + +"Very strange!" assented Lucian, to stop further comment. "What kind of +a man was this Mr. Wrent?" + +"I don't know. I never heard much about him," replied Miss Greeb +regretfully. "May I ask why you want to know all this, Mr. Denzil?" + +Lucian hesitated, as he rather dreaded the chattering tongue of his +landlady, and did not wish his connection with the Vrain case to become +public property in Geneva Square. Still, Miss Greeb was a valuable ally, +if only for her wide acquaintance with the neighbourhood, its +inhabitants, and their doings. Therefore, after a moment's reflection, +he resolved to secure Miss Greeb as a coadjutor, and risk her excessive +garrulity. + +"Can you keep a secret, Miss Greeb?" he asked, with impressive +solemnity. + +Struck by his serious air, and at once on fire with curiosity to learn +its reason, Miss Greeb loudly protested that she should sooner die than +breathe a word of what her lodger was about to divulge. She hinted, +with many a mysterious look and nod, that secrets endangering the +domestic happiness of every family in the square were known to her, and +appealed to the fact that such families still lived in harmony as a +proof that she was to be trusted. + +"Wild horses wouldn't drag out of me what I know!" cried Miss Greeb +earnestly. "You can confide in me as you would in a"--she was about to +say mother, but recollecting her juvenile looks, substituted the word +"sister." + +"Very good," said Lucian, explaining just as much as would serve his +purpose. "Then I may tell you, Miss Greeb, that I suspect the assassin +of Mr. Vrain entered through Mrs. Bensusan's house, and so got into the +yard of No. 13." + +"Lord!" cried Miss Greeb, taken by surprise. "You don't say, sir, that +Mr. Wrent is a murdering villain, steeped in gore?" + +"No! No!" replied Lucian, smiling at this highly-coloured description. +"Do not jump to conclusions, Miss Greeb. So far as I am aware, this Mr. +Wrent you speak of is innocent. Do you know Mrs. Bensusan and her house +well?" + +"I've visited both several times, Mr. Denzil." + +"Well, then, tell me," continued the barrister, "is the house built with +a full frontage like those in this square? I mean, to gain Mrs. +Bensusan's back yard is it necessary to go through Mrs. Bensusan's +house?" + +"No," replied Miss Greeb, shutting her eyes to conjure up the image of +her friend's premises. "You can go round the back through the side +passage which leads in from Jersey Road." + +"H'm!" said Lucian in a dissatisfied tone. "That complicates matters." + +"How so, sir?" demanded the curious landlady. + +"Never mind just now, Miss Greeb. Do you think you could draw me a plan +of this passage of Mrs. Bensusan's house, and of No. 13, with the yards +between?" + +"I never could sketch," said Miss Greeb regretfully, "and I am no +artist, Mr. Denzil, but I think I can do what you want." + +"Here is a sheet of paper and a pencil. Will you sketch me the houses as +clearly as you can?" + +With much reflection and nibbling of the pencil, and casting of her eyes +up to the ceiling to aid her memory, Miss Greeb in ten minutes produced +the required sketch. + +"There you are, Mr. Denzil," said Miss Greeb, placing this work of art +before the barrister, "that's as good as I can draw." + +"It is excellent, Miss Greeb," replied Lucian, examining the plan. "I +see that anyone can get into Mrs. Bensusan's yard through the side +passage." + +"Oh, yes; but I don't think a person could without being seen by Mrs. +Bensusan or Rhoda." + +"Who is Rhoda?" + +"The servant. She's as sharp as a needle, but an idle slut, for all +that, Mr. Denzil. They say she's a gypsy of some kind." + +"Is the gate of this passage locked at night?" + +"Not that I know of." + +"Then what is to prevent any one coming in under cover of darkness and +climbing the fence? He would escape then being seen by the landlady and +her servant." + +"I daresay; but he'd be seen climbing over the fence from the back +windows of the houses on each side of No. 13." + +"Not if he chose a dark night for the climbing." + +"Well, even if he did, how could he get into No. 13?" argued Miss Greeb. +"You know I've read the report of the case, Mr. Denzil, and it couldn't +be found out (as the kitchen door was locked, and no stranger entered +the square) how the murdering assassin got in." + +"I may discover even that," replied Lucian, not choosing to tell Miss +Greeb that he had already discovered the entrance. "With time and +inquiry and observation we can do much. Thank you, Miss Greeb," he +continued, slipping the drawing of the plan into his breast coat pocket. +"I am much obliged for your information. Of course you'll repeat our +conversation to no one?" + +"I swear to breathe no word," said Miss Greeb dramatically, and left the +room greatly pleased with this secret understanding, which had quite the +air of an innocent intrigue such as was detailed in journals designed +for the use of the family circle. + +For the next day or two Lucian mused over the information he had +obtained, and made a fresh drawing of the plan for his own satisfaction; +but he took no steps on this new evidence, as he was anxious to submit +his discoveries to Miss Vrain before doing so. At the present time Diana +was at Bath, taking possession of her ancestral acres, and consulting +the family lawyer on various matters connected with the property. + +Once she wrote to Lucian, advising him that she had heard several pieces +of news likely to be useful in clearing up the mystery; but these she +refused to communicate save at a personal interview. Denzil was thus +kept in suspense, and unable to rest until he knew precisely the value +of Miss Vrain's newly acquired information; therefore it was with a +feeling of relief that he received a note from her asking him to call at +three o'clock on Sunday at the Royal John Hotel. + +Since her going and coming a week had elapsed. + +Now that his divinity had returned, and he was about to see her again, +the sun shone once more in the heavens for Lucian, and he arrayed +himself for his visit with the utmost care. His heart beat violently and +his colour rose as he was ushered into the little sitting-room, and he +thought less of the case at the moment than of the joy in seeing Miss +Vrain once more, in hearing her speak, and watching her lovely face. + +On her part, Diana, recollecting their last meeting, or more +particularly their parting, blushed in her turn, and gave her hand to +the barrister with a new-born timidity. She also was inclined to like +Lucian more than was reasonable for the peace of her heart; so these two +people, each drawn to the other, should have come together as lovers +even at this second meeting. + +But, alas! for the prosaicness of this workaday world, they had to +assume the attitudes of lawyer and client; and discourse of crime +instead of love. The situation was a trifle ironical, and must have +provoked the laughter of the gods. + +"Well?" asked Miss Vrain, getting to business as soon as Lucian was +seated, "and what have you found out?" + +"A great deal likely to be of service to us. And you?" + +"I!" replied Miss Vrain in a satisfied tone. "I have discovered that the +stiletto with the ribbon is gone from the library." + +"Who took it away?" + +"No one knows. I can't find out, although I asked all the servants; but +it has been missing from its place for some months." + +"Do you think Mrs. Vrain took it?" + +"I can't say," replied Diana, "but I have made one discovery about Mrs. +Vrain which implicates her still more in the crime. She was not in +Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve, but in town." + +"Really!" said Lucian much amazed. "But Link was told that she spent +Christmas in the Manor at Bath." + +"So she did. Link asked generally, and was answered generally. Mrs. +Vrain went up to town on Christmas Eve and returned on Christmas Day; +but," said Diana, with emphasis, "she spent the night in town, and on +that night the murder was committed." + +Lucian produced his pocketbook and took therefrom the fragment of gauze, +which he handed to Diana. + +"I found this on the fence at the back of No. 13," he said. "It is a +veil--a portion of a velvet-spotted veil." + +"A velvet-spotted veil!" cried Diana, looking at it. "Then it belongs to +Lydia Vrain. She usually wears velvet-spotted veils. Mr. Denzil, the +evidence is complete--that woman is guilty!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +GOSSIP + + +Going by circumstantial evidence, Diana certainly had good grounds to +accuse Mrs. Vrain of committing the crime, for there were four points at +least which could be proved past all doubt as incriminating her strongly +in the matter. + +In the first place, the female shadow on the blind seen by Lucian, +showed that a woman had been in the habit of entering the house by the +secret way of the cellar, and during the absence of Vrain. + +Secondly, the finding of the parti-coloured ribbon in the Silent House, +which had been knotted round the handle of the stiletto by Diana, and +the absence of the stiletto itself from its usual place on the wall of +the Berwin Manor library, proved that the weapon had been removed +therefrom to London, and, presumably, used to commit the deed, seeing +that otherwise there was no necessity for its presence in the Geneva +Square mansion. + +Thirdly, Diana had discovered that Lydia had spent the night of the +murder in town; and, lastly, she also declared that the fragment of +gauze found by Lucian on the dividing fence was the property of Mrs. +Vrain. + +This quartette of charges was recapitulated by Diana in support of her +accusation of her stepmother. + +"I always suspected Lydia as indirectly guilty," she declared in +concluding her speech for the prosecution, "but I was not certain until +now that she had actually struck the blow herself." + +"But did she?" said Denzil, by no means convinced. + +"I do not know what further evidence you require to prove it," retorted +Diana indignantly. "She was in town on Christmas Eve; she took the +stiletto from the library, and----" + +"You can't prove that," interrupted Lucian decidedly. Then, seeing the +look of anger on Diana's face, he hastened to apologise. "Excuse me, +Miss Vrain," he said nervously. "I am not the less your friend because I +combat your arguments; but in this case it is necessary to look on both +sides of the question. Is it possible to prove that Mrs. Vrain removed +this dagger?" + +"Nobody actually saw it in her possession," replied Diana, who was more +amenable to reason than the majority of her sex, "but I can prove that +the stiletto, with its ribbon, remained in the library after the +departure of my father. If Lydia did not take it, who else had occasion +to bring it up to London?" + +"Let us say Count Ferruci," suggested Denzil. + +Diana pointed to the fragment of the veil lying on the table. "On the +evidence of that piece of gauze," she said, "it was Lydia who entered +the house. Again, you saw her shadow on the window blind." + +"I saw two shadows," corrected Lucian hastily, "those of a man and a +woman." + +"In plain English, Mr. Denzil, those of Mrs. Vrain and Count Ferruci." + +"We cannot be certain of that." + +"But circumstantial evidence----" + +"Is not always conclusive, Miss Vrain." + +"Upon my word, sir, you seem inclined to defend this woman!" + +"Miss Vrain," said Lucian seriously, "if we don't give her the benefit +of every doubt the jury will, should she be tried on this charge. I +admit that the evidence against this woman is strong, but it is not +certain; and I argue the case looking at it from her point of view--the +only view which is likely to be taken by her counsel. If Mrs. Vrain +killed her husband she must have had a strong motive to do so." + +"Well," said Diana impatiently, "there is the assurance money." + +"I don't know if that motive is quite strong enough to justify this +woman in risking her neck," responded the barrister. "As Mrs. Vrain of +Berwin Manor she had an ample income, for your father seems to have left +all the rents to her, and spent but little on himself; also she had an +assured position, and, on the whole, a happy life. Why should she risk +losing these advantages to gain more money?" + +"She wanted to marry Ferruci," said Diana, driven to another point of +defence. "She was almost engaged to him before she married my foolish +father; she invited him to Berwin Manor against the wish of her husband, +and showed plainly that she loved him sufficiently to commit a crime for +his sake. With my father dead, and she in possession of L20,000, she +could hope to marry this Italian." + +"Can you prove that she was so reckless?" + +"Yes, I can," replied Miss Vrain defiantly. "The same person who told me +that Lydia was not at Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve can tell you that +her behaviour with Count Ferruci was the talk of Bath." + +"Who is this person?" asked Lucian, looking up. + +"A friend of mine--Miss Tyler. I brought her up with me, so that you +should get her information at first hand. You can see her at once," and +Diana rose to ring the bell. + +"One moment," interposed Lucian, before she could touch the button. +"Tell me if Miss Tyler knows your reason for bringing her up." + +"I have not told her directly," said Diana, with some bluntness, "but as +she is no fool, I fancy she suspects. Why do you ask?" + +"Because I have something to tell you which I do not wish your friend to +hear, unless," added Lucian significantly, "you desire to take her into +our confidence." + +"No," said Diana promptly. "I do not think it is wise to take her into +our confidence. She is rather--well, to put it plainly, Mr. +Denzil--rather a gossip." + +"H'm! As such, do you consider her evidence reliable?" + +"We can pick the grains of wheat out of the chaff. No doubt she +exaggerates and garbles, after the fashion of a scandal-loving woman, +but her evidence is valuable, especially as showing that Lydia was not +at Bath on Christmas Eve. We will tell her nothing, so she can suspect +as much as she likes; if we do speak freely she will spread the gossip, +and if we don't, she will invent worse facts; so in either case it +doesn't matter. What is it you have to tell me?" + +Lucian could scarcely forbear smiling at Diana's candidly expressed +estimate of her ally's character, but, fearful of giving offence to his +companion, he speedily composed his features. With much explanation and +an exhibition of Miss Greeb's plan, he gave an account of his +discoveries, beginning with his visit to the cellar, and ending with the +important conversation with his landlady. Diana listened attentively, +and when he concluded gave it as her opinion that Lydia had entered the +first yard by the side passage and had climbed over the fence into the +second, "as is clearly proved by the veil," she concluded decisively. + +"But why should she take all that trouble, and run the risk of being +seen, when it is plain that your father expected her?" + +"Expected her!" cried Diana, thunderstruck. "Impossible!" + +"I don't know so much about that," replied Lucian drily, "although I +admit that on the face of it my assertion appears improbable. But when I +met your father the second time, he was so anxious to prove, by letting +me examine the house, that no one had entered it during his absence, +that I am certain he was well aware the shadows I saw were those of +people he knew were in the room. Now, if the woman was Mrs. Vrain, she +must have been in the habit of visiting your father by the back way." + +"And Ferruci also?" + +"I am not sure if the male shadow was Ferruci, no more than I am certain +the other was Mrs. Vrain." + +"But the veil?" + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders in despair. "That seems to prove it was +she," he said dubiously, "but I can't explain your father's conduct in +receiving her in so secretive a way. The whole thing is beyond me." + +"Well, what is to be done?" said Diana, after a pause, during which they +looked blankly at one another. + +"I must think. My head is too confused just now with this conflicting +evidence to plan any line of action. As a relief, let us examine your +friend and hear what she has to say." + +Diana assented, and touched the bell. Shortly, Miss Tyler appeared, +ushered in by a nervous waiter, to whom it would seem she had addressed +a sharp admonition on his want of deference. Immediately on entering she +pounced down on Miss Vrain like a hawk on a dove, pecked her on both +cheeks, addressed her as "my dearest Di," and finally permitted herself, +with downcast eyes and a modest demeanour, to be introduced to Lucian. + +It might be inferred from the foregoing description that Miss Tyler was +a young and ardent damsel in her teens; whereas she was considerably +nearer forty than thirty, and possessed an uncomely aspect unpleasing to +male eyes. Her own were of a cold grey, her lips were thin, her waist +pinched in, and--as the natural consequence of tight lacing--her nose +was red. Her scanty hair was drawn off her high forehead very tightly, +and screwed into a cast-iron knob at the nape of her long neck; and she +smiled occasionally in an acid manner, with many teeth. She wore a +plainly-made green dress, with a toby frill; and a large silver cross +dangled on her flat bosom. Altogether, she was about as venomous a +specimen of an unappropriated blessing as can well be imagined. + +"Bella," said Miss Vrain to this unattractive female, "for certain +reasons, which I may tell you hereafter, Mr. Denzil wishes to know if +Mrs. Vrain was at Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve." + +"Of course she was not, dearest Di," said Bella, drooping her elderly +head on one scraggy shoulder, with an acid smile. "Didn't I tell you so? +I was asked by Lydia--alas! I wish I could say my dearest Lydia--to +spend Christmas at Berwin Manor. She invited me for my singing and +playing, you know: and as we all have to make ourselves agreeable, I +came to see her. On the day before Christmas she received a letter by +the early post which seemed to upset her a great deal, and told me she +would have to run up to town on business. She did, and stayed all night, +and came down next morning to keep Christmas. I thought it _very_ +strange." + +"What was her business in town, Miss Tyler?" asked Lucian. + +"Oh, she didn't tell _me_," said Bella, tossing her head, "at least not +directly, but I gathered from what she said that something was wrong +with poor dear Mr. Clyne--her father, you know, dearest Di." + +"Was the letter from him?" + +"Oh, I couldn't say that, Mr. Denzil, as I don't know, and I never speak +by hearsay. So much mischief is done in the world by people repeating +idle tales of which they are not sure." + +"Was Count Ferruci at Berwin Manor at the time?" + +"Oh, dear me, no, Di! I told you that he was up in London the whole of +Christmas week. I only hope," added Miss Tyler, with a venomous smile, +"that Lydia did not go up to meet him." + +"Why should she?" demanded Lucian bluntly. + +"Oh, I'm not blind!" cried Bella, shrilly laughing. "No, indeed. The +Count--a most amiable man--was _very_ attentive to me at one time; and +Lydia--a married woman--I regret to say, did not like him being so. I am +indeed sorry to repeat scandal, Mr. Denzil, but the way in which Mrs. +Vrain behaved towards me and carried on with the Count was not +creditable. I am a gentlewoman, Mr. Denzil, and a churchwoman, and as +such cannot countenance such conduct as his." + +"You infer, then, that Mrs. Vrain was in love with the Italian?" + +"I shouldn't be at all surprised to hear it," cried Bella again. "But he +did not care for her! Oh, dear, no! It is my belief, Mr. Denzil, that +Mrs. Vrain knows more about the death of her husband than she chooses to +admit. Oh, I've read _all_ the papers; I know _all_ about the death." + +"Miss Tyler!" said Lucian, alarmed. + +"Bella!" cried Miss Vrain. "I----" + +"Oh, I'm not blind, dearest," interrupted Bella, speaking very fast. "I +know you ask me these questions to find out if Lydia killed her husband. +Well, she did!" + +"How do you know, Miss Tyler?" + +"Because I'm sure of it, Mr. Denzil. Wasn't Mr. Vrain stabbed with a +dagger? Very well, then. There was a dagger hanging in the library of +the Manor, and I saw it there four days before Christmas. When I looked +for it on Christmas Day it was gone." + +"Gone! Who took it?" + +"Mrs. Vrain!" + +"Are you sure?" + +"Yes, I am!" snapped Miss Tyler. "I didn't see her take it, but it was +there before she went, and it wasn't there on Christmas Day. If Lydia +did not take it, who did?" + +"Count Ferruci, perhaps." + +"He wasn't there! No!" cried Bella, raising her head, "I'm sure Mrs. +Vrain stole it and killed her husband, and I don't care who hears me say +so!" + +Diana and Lucian looked at one another in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE HOUSE IN JERSEY STREET + + +As her listeners made no comment on Miss Tyler's accusation of Mrs. +Vrain, she paused only for a moment to recover her breath, and was off +again in full cry with a budget of ancient gossip drawn from a very +retentive memory. + +"Of the way in which Lydia treated her poor dear husband I know little," +cried the fair Bella. "Only this, that she drove him out of the house by +her scandalous conduct. Yes, indeed; although you may not believe me, +Di. You were away in Australia at the time, but I kept a watch on Lydia +in your interest, dear, and our housemaid heard from your housemaid the +most dreadful things. Why, Mr. Vrain remonstrated with Lydia, and +ordered Count Ferruci out of the house, but Lydia would not let him go; +and Mr. Vrain left the house himself." + +"Where did he go to, Miss Tyler?" + +"I don't know; nobody knows. But it is my opinion," said the spinster, +with a significant look, "that he went to London to see about a divorce. +But he was weak in the head, poor man, and I suppose let things go on. +When next I heard of him he was a corpse in Geneva Square." + +"But did my father tell his wife that he was in Geneva Square?" + +"Dearest Di, I can't say; but I don't believe he had anything to do with +her after he left the house." + +"Then if she did not know his whereabouts, how could she kill him?" +asked Denzil pertinently. + +Brought to a point which she could not evade, Bella declined to answer +this question, but tossed her head and bit her lip, with a fine colour. +All her accusations of Mrs. Vrain had been made generally, and, as +Lucian noted, were unsupported by fact. From a legal point of view this +spiteful gossip of a jealous woman was worth nothing, but in a broad +sense it was certainly useful in showing the discord which had existed +between Vrain and his wife. Lucian saw that little good was to be gained +from this prejudiced witness, so thanking Miss Tyler courteously for her +information, he arose to go. + +"Wait for a moment, Mr. Denzil," said Diana hurriedly. "I want to ask +you something. Bella, would you mind----" + +"Leaving the room? Oh, dear, no!" burst out Miss Tyler, annoyed at being +excluded. "I've said all I have to say, and anything I can do, dearest +Di, to assist you and Mr. Denzil in hanging that woman, I----" + +"Miss Tyler," interrupted Lucian sternly, "you must not speak so +wildly, for as yet there is nothing to prove that Mrs. Vrain is guilty." + +"She is guilty enough for me, Mr. Denzil; but like all men, I suppose +you take her side, because she is supposed to be pretty. Pretty!" +reflected Bella scornfully, "I never could see it myself; a painted up +minx, dragged up from the gutter. I wonder at your taste, Mr. Denzil, +indeed I do. Pretty, the idea! What fools men are! I'm glad I never +married one! Indeed no! He! he!" + +And with a shrill laugh to point this sour-grape sentiment, and mark her +disdain for Lucian, the fair Bella took herself and her lean form out of +the room. + +Diana and the barrister were too deeply interested in their business to +take much notice of Bella's hysterical outburst, but looked at one +another gravely as she departed. + +"Well, Mr. Denzil," said the former, repeating her earlier question, +"what is to be done now? Shall we see Mrs. Vrain?" + +"Not yet," replied Lucian quickly. "We must secure proofs of Mrs. +Vrain's being in that yard before we can get any confession out of her. +If you will leave it in my hands, Miss Vrain, I shall call on Mrs. +Bensusan." + +"Who is Mrs. Bensusan?" + +"She is the tenant of the house in Jersey Street. It is possible that +she or her servant may know something about the illegal use made of the +right of way." + +"Yes, I think that is the next step to take. But what am I to do in the +meantime?" + +"Nothing. If I were you I would not even see Mrs. Vrain." + +"I will not seek her voluntarily," replied Diana, "but as I have been to +Berwin Manor she is certain to hear that I am in England, and may +perhaps find out my address, and call. But if she does, you may be sure +that I will be most judicious in my remarks." + +"I leave all that to your discretion," said Denzil, rising. "Good-bye, +Miss Vrain. As soon as I am in possession of any new evidence I shall +call again." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Denzil, and thank you for all your kindness." + +Diana made this remark with so kindly a look, so becoming a blush, and +so warm a pressure of the hand, that Lucian felt quite overcome, and not +trusting himself to speak, walked swiftly out of the room. + +In spite of the gravity of the task in which he was concerned, at that +moment he thought more of Diana's looks and speech than of the detective +business which he had taken up for love's sake. But on reaching his +rooms in Geneva Square he made a mighty effort to waken from these day +dreams, and with a stern determination addressed himself resolutely to +the work in hand. + +In this case the bitter came before the sweet. But by accomplishing the +desire of Diana, and solving the mystery of her father's death, Lucian +hoped to win not only her smiles but the more substantial reward of her +heart and hand. + +Before calling on Mrs. Bensusan the barrister debated within himself as +to whether it would not be judicious to call in again the assistance of +Link, and by telling him of the new evidence which had been found place +him thereby in possession of new material to prosecute the case. But +Link lately had taken so pessimistic a view of the matter that Lucian +fancied he would scoff at his late discoveries, and discourage him in +prosecuting what seemed to be a fruitless quest. + +Denzil was anxious, as Diana's knight, to do as much of the work as +possible in order to gain the reward of her smiles. It is true that he +had no legal authority to make these inquiries, and it was possible that +Mrs. Bensusan might refuse to answer questions concerning her own +business, unsanctioned by law; but on recalling the description of Miss +Greeb, Lucian fancied that Mrs. Bensusan, as a fat woman, might only be +good-natured and timid. + +He therefore dismissed all ideas of asking Link to intervene, and +resolved to risk a personal interview with the tenant of the Jersey +Street house. It would be time enough to invite Link's assistance, he +thought, when Mrs. Bensusan--as yet an unknown quantity in the +case--proved obstinate in replying to his questions. + +Mrs. Bensusan proved to be quite as stout as Miss Greeb had reported. A +gigantically fat woman, she made up in breadth what she lacked in +length. Yet she seemed to have some activity about her, too, for she +opened the door personally to Lucian, who was quite amazed when he +beheld her monstrous bulk blocking up the doorway. Her face was white +and round like a pale moon; she had staring eyes of a china blue, +resembling the vacant optics of a wax doll; and, on the whole, appeared +to be a timid, lymphatic woman, likely to answer any questions put to +her in a sufficiently peremptory tone. Lucian foresaw that he was not +likely to have much trouble with this mountain of flesh. + +"What might you be pleased to want, sir?" she asked Lucian, in the +meekest of voices. "Is it about the lodgings?" + +"Yes," answered the barrister boldly, for he guessed that Mrs. Bensusan +would scuttle back into the house like a rabbit to its burrow, did he +speak too plainly at the outset, "that is--I wish to inquire about a +friend of mine." + +"Did he lodge here, sir?" + +"Yes. A Mr. Wrent." + +"Deary me!" said the fat woman, with mild surprise. "Mr. Wrent left me +shortly after Christmas. A kind gentleman, but timid; he----" + +"Excuse me," interrupted Lucian, who wanted to get into the house, "but +don't you think you could tell me about my friend in a more convenient +situation?" + +"Oh, yes, sir--certainly, sir," wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, rolling back up +the narrow passage. "I beg your pardon, sir, for my forgetfulness, but +my head ain't what it ought to be. I'm a lone widow, sir, and not over +strong." + +Denzil could have laughed at this description, as the lady's bulk gave +the lie to her assertion. However, on diplomatic grounds he suppressed +his mirth, and followed his ponderous guide into a sitting-room so small +that she almost filled it herself. + +As he left the passage he saw a brilliant red head pop down the +staircase leading to the basement; but whether it was that of a man or a +woman he could not say. Still, on recalling Miss Greeb's description of +the Bensusan household, he concluded that the red head was the property +of Rhoda, the sharp servant, and argued from her appearance in the +background, and rapid disappearance, that she was in the habit of +listening to conversations she was not meant to hear. + +Mrs. Bensusan sat down on the sofa, as being most accommodating to her +bulk, and cast a watery look around the small apartment, which was +furnished in that extraordinary fashion which seems to be the peculiar +characteristic of boarding houses. The walls and carpet were patterned +with glowing bunches of red roses; the furniture was covered with +stamped red velvet; the ornaments consisted of shells, wax fruit under +glass shades, mats of Berlin wool, vases with dangling pendants of +glass, and such like elegant survivals of the early Victorian epoch. + +Hideous as the apartment was, it seemed to afford Mrs. Bensusan--also a +survival--great pleasure; and she cast a complacent look around as +Lucian seated himself on an uncomfortable chair covered with an +antimacassar of crochet work. + +"My rooms are most comfortable, an' much liked," said Mrs. Bensusan, +sighing, "but I have not had many lodgers lately. Rhoda thinks it must +be on account of that horrible murder." + +"The murder of Vrain in No. 13?" + +"Ah!" groaned the fat woman, looking tearfully over her double chin, "I +see you have heard of it." + +"Everybody has heard of it," replied Lucian, "and I was one of the first +to hear, since I live in Miss Greeb's house, opposite No. 13." + +"Indeed, sir!" grunted Mrs. Bensusan, stiffening a little at the sound +of a rival lodging-house keeper's name. "Then you are Mr. Denzil, the +gentleman who occupies Miss Greeb's first floor front." + +"Yes. And I have come to ask you a few questions." + +"About what, sir?" said Mrs. Bensusan, visibly alarmed. + +"Concerning Mr. Wrent." + +"You are a friend of his?" + +"I said so, Mrs. Bensusan, but as a matter of fact I never set eyes on +the gentleman in my life." + +Mrs. Bensusan gasped like a fish out of water, and patted her fat +breast with her fat hand, as though to give herself courage. "It is not +like a gentleman to say that another gentleman's his friend when he +ain't," she said, with an attempt at dignity. + +"Very true," answered Lucian, with great composure, "but you know the +saying, 'All is fair in love and war.' I will be plain with you, Mrs. +Bensusan," he added, "I am here to seek possible evidence in connection +with the murder of Mr. Vrain, in No. 13, on Christmas Eve." + +Mrs. Bensusan gave a kind of hoarse screech, and stared at Lucian in a +horrified manner. + +"Murder!" she repeated. "Lord! what mur--that murder! Mr. Vrain! Mr. +Vrain--that murder!" she repeated over and over again. + +"Yes, the murder of Mr. Vrain in No. 13 Geneva Square on Christmas Eve. +Now do you understand?" + +With another gasp Mrs. Bensusan threw up her fat hands and raised her +eyes to the ceiling. + +"As I am a Christian woman, sir," she cried, "I am as innocent as a babe +unborn!" + +"Of what?" asked Lucian sharply. + +"Of the murder!" wept Mrs. Bensusan, now dissolved in tears. "Rhoda +said----" + +"I don't want to hear what Rhoda said," interrupted Lucian impatiently, +"and I am not accusing you of the murder. But--your house is at the back +of No. 13." + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Bensusan, weeping like a Niobe. + +"And a fence divides your yard from that of No. 13?" + +"I won't contradict you, sir--it do." + +"And there is a passage leading from Jersey Street into your yard?" + +"There is, Mr. Denzil; it's useful for the trades-people." + +"And I daresay useful to others," said Lucian drily. "Now, Mrs. +Bensusan, do you know if any lady was in the habit of passing through +that passage at night?" + +Before Mrs. Bensusan could answer the door was dashed open, and Rhoda, +the red-headed, darted into the room. + +"Don't answer, missus!" she cried shortly. "As you love me, mum, don't!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +RHODA AND THE CLOAK + + +The one servant of Mrs. Bensusan was a girl of seventeen, who had a +local fame in the neighbourhood on account of her sharp tongue and many +precocious qualities. No one knew who her parents were, or where the fat +landlady had picked her up; but she had been in the Jersey Street house +some ten years, and had been educated and--in a manner--adopted by its +mistress, although Mrs. Bensusan always gave her cronies to understand +that Rhoda was simply and solely the domestic of the establishment. + +Nevertheless, for one of her humble position, she had a wonderful power +over her stout employer, the power of a strong mind over a weak one, and +in spite of her youth it was well known that Rhoda managed the domestic +economy of the house. Mrs. Bensusan was the sovereign, Rhoda the prime +minister. + +This position she had earned by dint of her own sharpness in dealing +with the world. And the local tradesmen were afraid of Rhoda. "Mrs. +Bensusan's devil," they called her, and never dared to give short +weight, or charge extra prices, or pass off damaged goods as new, when +Rhoda was the purchaser. On the contrary, No. 9 Jersey Street was +supplied with everything of the best, promptly and civilly, at ordinary +market rates; for neither butcher, nor baker, nor candlestick maker, was +daring enough to risk Rhoda's tongue raging like a prairie fire over +their shortcomings. Several landladies, knowing Rhoda's value, had tried +to entice her from Mrs. Bensusan by offers of higher wages and better +quarters, but the girl refused to leave her stout mistress, and so +continued quite a fixture of the lodgings. Even in the city, Rhoda had +been spoken of by clerks who had lived in Jersey Street, and so had more +than a local reputation for originality. + +This celebrated handmaid was as lean as her mistress was stout. Her hair +was magnificent in quality and quantity, but, alas! was of the unpopular +tint called red; not auburn, or copper hued, or the famous Titian color, +but a blazing, fiery red, which made it look like a comic wig. Her face +was pale and freckled, her eyes black--in strange contrast to her hair, +and her mouth large, but garnished with an excellent set of white teeth. + +Rhoda was not neat in her attire, perhaps not having arrived at the age +of coquetry, for she wore a dingy grey dress much too short for her, a +pair of carpet slippers which had been left by a departed lodger, and +usually went about with her sleeves tucked up, and a resolute look on +her sharp face. Such was the appearance of Mrs. Bensusan's devil, who +entered to forbid her mistress confiding in Lucian. + +"Oh, Rhoda!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "You bad gal! I believe as you've +'ad your ear to the keyhole." + +"I 'ave!" retorted Rhoda defiantly. "It's been there for five minutes, +and good it is for you, mum, as I ain't above listening. What do you +mean, sir," she cried, turning on Lucian like a fierce sparrow, "by +coming 'ere to frighten two lone females, and her as innocent as a +spring chicken?" + +"Oh!" said Lucian, looking at her composedly, "so you are the celebrated +Rhoda? I've heard of you." + +"Not much good, then, sir, if Miss Greeb was talking," rejoined the +red-haired girl, with a sniff. "Oh, I know her." + +"Rhoda! Rhoda!" bleated her mistress, "do 'old your tongue! I tell you +this gentleman's a police." + +"He ain't!" said the undaunted Rhoda. "He's in the law. Oh, I knows +him!' + +"Ain't the law the police, you foolish gal?" + +"Of course it--" began Rhoda, when Lucian, who thought that she had +displayed quite sufficient eccentricity, cut her short with a quick +gesture. + +"See here, my girl," he said sharply, "you must not behave in this +fashion. I have reason to believe that the assassin of Mr. Vrain entered +the house through the premises of your mistress." + +"Lawks, what a 'orrible idear!" shrieked Mrs. Bensusan. "Good 'eavens, +Rhoda, did you see the murdering villain?" + +"Me? No! I never sawr nothing, mum," replied Rhoda doggedly. + +Lucian, watching the girl's face, and the uneasy expression in her eyes, +felt convinced she was not telling the truth. It was no use forcing her +to speak, as he saw very plainly that Rhoda was one of those obstinate +people whom severity only hardened. Much more could be done with her by +kindness, and Denzil adopted this--to him--more congenial course. + +"If Rhoda is bound by any promise, Mrs. Bensusan, I do not wish her to +speak," he said indifferently, "but in the interests of justice I am +sure you will not refuse to answer my questions." + +"Lord, sir! I know nothing!" whimpered the terrified landlady. + +"Will you answer a few questions?" asked Denzil persuasively. + +Mrs. Bensusan glanced in a scared manner at Rhoda, who, meanwhile, had +been standing in a sullen and hesitating attitude. When she thought +herself unobserved, she stole swift glances at the visitor, trying +evidently to read his character by observation of his face and manner. +It would seem that her scrutiny was favourable, for before Mrs. Bensusan +could answer Lucian's question she asked him one herself. + +"What do you want to know, sir?" + +"I want to know all about Mr. Wrent." + +"Why?" + +"Because I fancy he has something to do with this crime." + +"Lord!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "'Ave I waited on a murderer?" + +"I don't say he is a murderer, Mrs. Bensusan, but he knows something +likely to put us on the track of the criminal." + +"What makes ye take up the case?" demanded Rhoda sharply. + +"Because I know that Mr. Wrent came to board in this house shortly after +Mr. Vrain occupied No. 13," replied Denzil. + +"Who says he did?" + +"Miss Greeb, my landlady, and she also told me that he left here two +days after the murder." + +"That's as true as true!" cried Mrs. Bensusan, "ain't it, Rhoda? We lost +him 'cause he said he couldn't abide living near a house where a crime +had been committed." + +"Well, then," continued Lucian, seeing that Rhoda, without speaking, +continued to watch him, "the coincidence of Mr. Wrent's stay with that +of Mr. Vrain's strikes me as peculiar." + +"You are a sharp one, you are!" said Rhoda, with an approving nod. "Look +here, Mr. Denzil, would you break a promise?" + +"That depends upon what the promise was." + +"It was one I made to hold my tongue." + +"About what?" + +"Several things," said the girl shortly. + +"Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian eagerly. + +"I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda; then suddenly her face grew +black. "I tell you what, sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared. + +"Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After the lovely cloak he gave you!" + +The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at her mistress; then, without +a word, darted out of the room. Before Lucian could conjecture the +reason of her strange conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could get her breath +again--a very difficult operation for her--Rhoda was back with a blue +cloth cloak, lined with rabbit skins, hanging over her arm. This she +threw down at the feet of Lucian, and stamped on it savagely with the +carpet slippers. + +"There's his present!" she cried angrily, "but I wish I could dance on +him the same way! I wish--I wish I could hang him!" + +"Can you?" demanded Lucian swiftly, taking her in the moment of wrath, +when she seemed disposed to speak. + +"No!" said Rhoda shortly. "I can't!" + +"Do you think he killed Mr. Vrain?" + +"No, I don't!" + +"Do you know who did?" + +"Blest if I do!" + +"Does Mr. Wrent?" asked Denzil meaningly. + +The girl wet her finger and went through a childish game. "That's wet," +she said; then wiping the finger on her dingy skirt, "that's dry. Cut my +throat if I tell a lie. Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil." + +"I don't understand you," said Lucian, quite puzzled. + +"Rhoda! Rhoda! 'Ave you gone crazy?" wailed Mrs. Bensusan. + +"Look here," said the girl, taking no notice of her mistress, "do you +want to know about Mr. Wrent?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"And about that side passage as you talked of to the missis?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I'll answer yer questions, sir. You'll know all I know." + +"Very good," said Lucian, with an approving smile, "now you are talking +like a sensible girl." + +"Rhoda! You ain't going to talk bad of Mr. Wrent?" + +"It ain't bad, and it ain't good," replied Rhoda. "It's betwixt and +between." + +"Well, I must 'ear all. I don't want the character of the 'ouse took +away," said Mrs. Bensusan, with an attempt at firmness. + +"That's all right," rejoined Rhoda reassuringly, "you can jine in +yerself when y' like. Fire away, Mr. Denzil." + +"Who is Mr. Wrent?" asked Lucian, going straight to the point. + +"I don't know," replied Rhoda; and henceforth the examination proceeded +as though the girl were in the witness-box and Lucian counsel for the +prosecution. + +Q. When did he come to Jersey Street? + +A. At the end of July, last year. + +Q. When did he go away? + +A. The morning after Boxing Day. + +Q. Can you describe his appearance? + +A. He was of the middle height, with a fresh complexion, white hair, and +a white beard growing all over his face. He was untidy about his +clothes, and kept a good deal to his own room among a lot of books. I +don't think he was quite right in his head. + +Q. Did he pay his rent regularly? + +A. Yes, except when he was away. He would go away for a week at a time. + +Q. Was he in this house on Christmas Eve? + +A. Yes, sir. He came back two days before Christmas. + +Q. Where had he been? + +A. I don't know; he did not say. + +Q. Did he have any visitors? + +A. He did. A tall, dark man and a lady. + +Q. What was the lady like? + +A. A little woman; I never saw her face, as she always kept her veil +down. + +Q. What kind of a veil did she wear? + +A. A black gauze veil with velvet spots. + +Q. Did she come often to see Mr. Wrent? + +A. Yes. Four or five times. + +Q. When did she call last? + +A. On Christmas Eve. + +Q. At what hour? + +A. She came at seven, and went away at eight. I know that because she +had supper with Mr. Wrent. + +Q. Did she leave the house? + +A. Yes. I let her out myself. + +Q. Did you ever hear any conversation between them? + +A. No. Mr. Wrent took care of that. I never got any chance of listening +at keyholes with him. He was a sharp one, for all his craziness. + +Q. What was the male visitor like? + +A. He was tall and dark, with a black moustache. + +Q. Do you think he was a foreigner? + +A. I don't know. I never heard him speak. Mr. Wrent let him out, as +usual. + +Q. When did he visit Mr. Wrent last? + +A. On Christmas Eve. He came with the lady. + +Q. Did he stay to supper also? + +A. No. He went away at half-past seven. Mr. Wrent let him out, as usual. + +Q. Did he go away altogether? + +A. I--I--I am not sure! (here the witness hesitated). + +Q. Why did Mr. Wrent give you the cloak? + +A. To make me hold my tongue about the dark man. + +Q. Why? + +A. Because I saw him in the back yard. + +Q. On what night? + +A. On the night of Christmas Eve, about half-past eight. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MRS. VRAIN AT BAY + + +"You saw the dark man in the back yard on Christmas Eve?" repeated +Lucian, much surprised by this discovery. + +"Yes, I did," replied Rhoda decisively, "at half-past eight o'clock. I +went out into the yard to put some empty bottles into the shed, and I +saw the man standing near the fence, looking at the back of No. 13. When +he heard me coming out he rushed past me and out by the side passage. +The moon was shining, and I saw him as plain as plain." + +"Did he seem afraid?" + +"Yes, he did; and didn't want to be seen, neither. I told Mr. Wrent, and +he promised me a cloak if I held my tongue. He said the dark man was +waiting in the yard until the lady had gone, when he was coming in +again." + +"But the lady, you say, went at eight, and you saw the man half an hour +later?" + +"That's it, sir. He told me a lie, for he never came in again to see Mr. +Wrent." + +"But already the dark man had seen the lady?" + +"Yes. He came in with her at seven, and went away at half-past." + +Lucian mechanically stooped down and picked up the fur cloak. He was +puzzled by the information given by Rhoda, and did not exactly see what +use to make of it. Going by the complexion of the man who had lurked in +the back yard, it would appear that he was Count Ferruci; while the +small stature of the woman, and the fact that she wore a velvet-spotted +veil, indicated that she was Lydia Vrain; also the pair had been in the +vicinity of the haunted house on the night of the murder; and, although +it was true both were out of the place by half-past eight, yet they +might not have gone far, but had probably returned later--when Rhoda and +Mrs. Bensusan were asleep--to murder Vrain, between the hours of eleven +and twelve on the same night. + +This was all plain enough, but Lucian was puzzled by the account of Mr. +Wrent. Who, he asked himself repeatedly, who was this grey-haired, +white-bearded man who had so often received Lydia, who had on Christmas +Eve silenced Rhoda regarding Ferruci's presence in the yard, by means of +the cloak, and who--it would seem--possessed the key to the whole +mystery? + +Rhoda could tell no more but that he had stayed six months with Mrs. +Bensusan, and had departed two days after the murder; whereby it would +seem that his task having been completed, he had no reason to remain +longer in so dangerous a neighbourhood. Yet four months had elapsed +since his departure, and Denzil, after some reflection, asked Mrs. +Bensusan a question or two regarding this interval. + +"Has Mr. Wrent returned here since his departure?" he demanded. + +"Lawks! no, sir!" wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, shaking her head. "I've never +set eyes on him since he went. 'Ave you, Rhoda?" Whereat the girl shook +her head also, and watched Lucian with an intensity of gaze which +somewhat discomposed him. + +"Did he owe you any money when he went, Mrs. Bensusan?" + +"No, sir. He paid up like a gentleman. I always thought well of Mr. +Wrent." + +"Rhoda doesn't seem to share your sentiments," said Denzil drily. + +"No, I don't!" cried the servant, frowning. "I hated Mr. Wrent!" + +"Why did you hate him?" + +"Never you mind, sir," retorted Rhoda grimly. "I hated him." + +"Yet he bought you this cloak." + +"No, he didn't!" contradicted the girl. "He got it from the lady!" + +"What!" cried Lucian sharply. "Are you sure of that?" + +"I can't exactly swear to it," replied Rhoda, hesitating, "but it was +this way: The lady wore a cloak like that, and I admired it awful. She +had it on when she came, Christmas Eve, and she didn't wear it when I +let her out, and the next day Mr. Wrent gave it to me. So I suppose it +is the same cloak." + +"And did the lady go out into the cold winter weather without the +cloak?" + +"Yes; but she had a long cloth jacket on, sir, so I don't s'pose she +missed it." + +"Was the lady agitated when she went out?" + +"I don't know. She held her tongue and kept her veil down." + +"Can you tell me anything more?" asked Lucian, anxious to make the +examination as exhaustive as possible. + +"No, Mr. Denzil," answered Rhoda, after some thought, "I can't, except +that Mr. Wrent, long before Christmas, promised me a present, and gave +me the cloak then." + +"Will you let me take this cloak away with me?" + +"If you like," replied Rhoda carelessly. "I don't want it.' + +"Oh, Rhoda!" wailed Mrs. Bensusan. "Your lovely, lovely rabbit skin!" + +"I'll bring it back again," said Lucian hastily. "I only want to use it +as evidence." + +"Ye want to know who the lady is?" said Rhoda sharply. + +"Yes, I do. Can you tell me?" + +"No; but you'll find out from that cloak. I guess why you're taking it." + +"You are very sharp, Rhoda," said Lucian, rising, with a good-humoured +smile, "and well deserve your local reputation. If I find Mr. Wrent, I +may require you to identify him; and Mrs. Bensusan also." + +"I'll be able to do that, but missus hasn't her eyes much." + +"Hasn't her eyes?" repeated Denzil, with a glance at Mrs. Bensusan's +staring orbs. + +"Lawks, sir, I'm shortsighted, though I never lets on. Rhoda, 'ow can +you 'ave let on to the gentleman as I'm deficient? As to knowing Mr. +Wrent, I'd do so well enough," said Mrs. Bensusan, tossing her head, +"with his long white beard and white 'ead, let alone his black velvet +skull-cap." + +"Oh, he wore a skull-cap?" + +"Only indoors," said Rhoda sharply, "but here I'm 'olding the door wide, +sir, so if you've done, we're done." + +"I'm done, as you call it, for the present," replied Denzil, putting on +his hat, "but I may come again. In the meantime, hold your tongues. +Silence on this occasion will be gold; speech won't even be silver." + +Mrs. Bensusan laughed at this speech in a fat and comfortable sort of +way, while Rhoda grinned, and escorted Lucian to the front door. She +looked so uncanny, with her red hair and black eyes, that the barrister +could not forbear a question. + +"Are you English, my girl?" + +"No, I ain't!" retorted Rhoda emphatically. "I'm of the gentle Romany." + +"A gipsy!" + +"So you Gorgios call us!" replied the girl, and shut the door with what +seemed to be unnecessary violence. Lucian went off with the cloak over +his arm, somewhat discomposed by this last piece of information. + +"A gipsy!" he repeated. "Humph! Can good come out of Nazareth? I don't +trust that girl much. If I knew why she hates Wrent, I'd be much more +satisfied with her information. And who the deuce is Wrent?" + +Lucian had occasion to ask himself this question many times before he +found its answer, and that was not until afterwards. At the present +moment he dismissed it from his mind as unprofitable. He was too busy +reflecting on the evidence obtained in Jersey Street to waste time in +conjecturing further events. On returning to his lodgings he sat down to +consider what was best to be done. + +After much reflection and internal argument, he decided to call upon +Mrs. Vrain, and by producing the cloak, force her into confessing her +share of the crime. Whether she had been the principal in the deed, or +an accessory before the fact, Lucian could not determine; but he was +confident that in one way or another she was cognizant of the truth; +although this she would probably conceal, as its revelation would likely +be detrimental to her own safety. + +At first Denzil intended to see Diana before visiting Mrs. Vrain, in +order to relate all he had learned, and find out from her if the cloak +really belonged to the widow. But on second thoughts he decided not to +do so. + +"I can tell her nothing absolutely certain about the matter," he said to +himself, "as I cannot be sure of anything until I force Mrs. Vrain to +confess. Diana," so he called her in his discourse to himself, "Diana +will probably know nothing about the ownership of the cloak, as it seems +new, and was probably purchased by Lydia during the absence of Diana in +Australia. No, I have the address of Mrs. Vrain, which Diana gave me. It +will be best to call on her, and by displaying the cloak make her +acknowledge her guilt. + +"With such evidence she cannot deny that she visited Wrent; and was in +the vicinity of the house wherein her husband was murdered on the very +night the crime was committed. Also she must state Ferruci's reason for +hiding in the back yard, and tell me plainly who Wrent is, and why he +helped the pair of them in their devilish plans. I am doubtful if she +will speak; but altogether the evidence I have collected inculpates her +so strongly that it will be quite sufficient grounds upon which to +obtain a warrant for her arrest. And sooner than risk that, I expect she +will tell as much as she can to exculpate herself--that is, if she is +really innocent. If she is guilty," Lucian shrugged his shoulders, "then +I cannot guess what course she will take." + +Mrs. Vrain, with her father to protect her, had established herself in a +small but luxurious house in Mayfair, and was preparing to enjoy +herself during the coming season. Although her husband had met with a +terrible death scarcely six months before, she had already cast off her +heavy mourning, and wore only such millinery indications of sorrow as +suited with her widowed existence. + +Ferruci was a constant visitor at the house; but although Lydia was now +free, and wealthy, she by no means seemed ready to marry the Italian. +Perhaps she thought, with her looks and riches, she might gain an +English title, as more valuable than a Continental one; and in this view +she was supported by her father. Clyne had no other desire than to see +his beloved Lydia happy, and would willingly have sacrificed everything +in his power to gain such an end; but as he did not like Ferruci +himself, and saw that Lydia's affections towards him had cooled greatly, +he did not encourage the idea of a match between them. + +However, these matters were yet in abeyance, as Lydia was too diplomatic +to break off with so subtle a man as the Count, who might prove a +dangerous enemy were his love turned to hate, and Mr. Clyne was quite +willing to remain on friendly terms with the man so long as Lydia chose +that such friendship should exist. In short, Lydia ruled her simple +father with a rod of iron, and coaxed Ferruci--a more difficult man to +deal with--into good humour; so she managed both of them skilfully in +every way, and contrived to keep things smooth, pending her plunge into +London society. For all her childish looks, Lydia was uncommonly +clever. + +When Lucian's card was brought in, Mrs. Vrain proved to be at home, and +as his good looks had made a deep impression on her, she received him at +once. He was shown into a luxuriously furnished drawing-room without +delay, and welcomed by pretty Mrs. Vrain herself, who came forward with +a bright smile and outstretched hands, looking more charming than ever. + +"Well, I do call this real sweet of you," said she gaily. "I guess it is +about time you showed up. But you don't look well, that's a fact. What's +wrong?" + +"I'm worried a little," replied Lucian, confounded by her coolness. + +"That's no use, Mr. Denzil. You should never be worried. I guess I don't +let anything put me out." + +"Not even your husband's death?" + +"That's rude!" said Lydia sharply, the colour leaving her cheek. "What +do you mean? Have you come to be nasty?" + +"I came to return you this," said Denzil, throwing the cloak which he +had carried on his arm before the widow. + +"This?" echoed Mrs. Vrain, looking at it. "Well, what's this old thing +got to do with me?" + +"It's yours; you left it in Jersey Street!" + +"Did I? And where's Jersey Street?" + +"You know well enough," said Lucian sternly. "It is near the place +where your husband was murdered." + +Mrs. Vrain turned white. "Do you dare to say----" she began, when Denzil +cut her short with a hint at her former discomposure. + +"The stiletto, Mrs. Vrain! Don't forget the stiletto!" + +"Oh, God!" cried Lydia, trembling violently. "What do you know of the +stiletto?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A DENIAL + + +"What do you know of the stiletto?" repeated Mrs. Vrain anxiously. + +She had risen to her feet, and, with an effort to be calm, was holding +on to the near chair. Her bright colour had faded to a dull white hue, +and her eyes had a look of horror in their depths which transformed her +from her childish beauty into a much older and more haggard woman than +she really was. It seemed as though Lucian, by some necromantic spell, +had robbed her of youth, vitality, and careless happiness. To him this +extraordinary agitation was a proof of her guilt; and hardening his +heart so as not to spare her one iota of her penalty--a mercy she did +not deserve--he addressed her sternly: + +"I know that a stiletto purchased in Florence by your late husband hung +on the library wall of Berwin Manor. I know that it is gone!" + +"Yes! yes!" said Lydia, moistening her white, dry lips, "it is gone; but +I do not know who took it." + +"The person who killed your husband." + +"I feared as much," she muttered, sitting down again. "Do you know the +name of the person?" + +"As well as you do yourself. The name is Lydia Vrain!" + +"I!" She threw herself back on the chair with a look of profound +astonishment on her colourless face. "Mr. Denzil," she stammered, +"is--is this--is this a jest?" + +"You will not find it so, Mrs. Vrain." + +The little woman clutched the arms of her chair and leaned forward with +her face no longer pale, but red with rage and indignation. "If you are +a gentleman, Mr. Denzil, I guess you won't keep me hanging on like this. +Let us get level. Do you say I killed Mark?" + +"Yes, I do!" said Lucian defiantly. "I am sure of it." + +"On what grounds?" asked Mrs. Vrain, holding her temper back with a +visible effort, that made her eyes glitter and her breath short. + +"On the grounds that he was killed with that stiletto and----" + +"Go slow! How do you know he was killed with that stiletto?" + +"Because the ribbon which attached it to the wall was found in the +Geneva Square house, where your husband was killed. Miss Vrain +recognised it." + +"Miss Vrain--Diana! Is she in England?" + +"Not only in England, but in London." + +"Then why hasn't she been to see me?" + +Denzil did not like to answer this question, the more so as Lydia's +sudden divergence from the point of discourse rather disconcerted him. +It is impossible to maintain dignity in making a serious accusation when +the person against whom it is made thinks so little of it as to turn +aside to discuss a point of etiquette in connection with another woman. + +Seeing that her accuser was silent and confused, Lydia recovered her +tongue and colour, and the equability of her temper. It was, therefore, +with some raillery that she continued her speech: + +"I see how it is," she said contemptuously, "Diana has called you into +her councils in order to fix this absurd charge on to me. Afraid to come +herself, she sends you as the braver person of the partnership. I +congratulate you on your errand, Mr. Denzil." + +"You can laugh as much as you like, Mrs. Vrain, but the matter is more +serious than you suppose." + +"Oh, I am sure that my loving stepdaughter will make it as serious as +possible. She always hated me." + +"Pardon me, Mrs. Vrain," said Lucian, colouring with annoyance, "but I +did not come here to hear you speak ill of Miss Vrain." + +"I know that! She sent you here to speak ill _of_ me and do ill _to_ me. +Well, so you and she accuse me of killing Mark? I shall be glad to hear +the evidence you can bring forward. If you can make your charge good I +should smile. Oh, I guess so!" + +Denzil noticed that when Mrs. Vrain became excited she usually spoke +plain English, without the U. S. A. accent, but on growing calmer, and, as +it were, recollecting herself, she adopted the Yankee twang and their +curious style of expression and ejaculation. This led him to suspect +that the fair Lydia was not a born daughter of the Great Republic, +perhaps not even a naturalised citizeness, but had assumed such +nationality as one attractive to society in Europe and Great Britain. + +He wondered what her past really was, and if she and her father were the +doubtful adventurers Diana believed them to be. If so, it might happen +that Lydia would extricate herself out of her present unpleasant +position by the use of past experience. To give her no chance of such +dodging, Lucian rapidly detailed the evidence against her so that she +would be hard put to baffle it. But in this estimate he quite underrated +Lydia's nerve and capability of fence, let alone the dexterity with +which she produced a satisfactory reply to each of his questions. + +"We will begin at the beginning, Mrs. Vrain," he said soberly, "say from +the time you drove your unfortunate husband out of his own house." + +"Now, I guess that wasn't my fault," explained Lydia. "I wasn't in love +with old man Mark, but I liked him well enough, for he was a real +gentleman; and when that make-mischief Diana, who cocked her nose at me, +set out for Australia, we got on surprisingly well. Count Ferruci came +over to stay, as much at Mark's invitation as mine, and I didn't pay +too much attention to him anyhow." + +"Miss Tyler says you did!" + +"Sakes!" cried Mrs. Vrain, raising her eyebrows, "have you been talking +to that old stump? Well, just you look here, Mr. Denzil! It was Bella +Tyler who made all the mischief. She thought Ercole was sweet on her, +and when she found out he wasn't, she got real mad, and went to tell +Mark that I was making things hum the wrong way with the Count. Of +course Mark had a row with him, and, of course, I got riz--not having +done anything to lie low for. We had a row royal, I guess, and the end +of it was that Mark cleared out. I thought he would turn up again, or +apply for a divorce, though he hadn't any reason to. But he did neither, +and remained away for a whole year. While he was away I got quit of +Ercole pretty smart, I can tell you, as I wanted to shut up that old +maid's mouth. I never knew where Mark was, or guessed what became of +him, until I saw that advertisement, and putting two and two together to +make four, I called to see Mr. Link, where I found you running the +circus." + +"Why did you faint on the mention of the stiletto?" + +"I told you the reason, and Link also." + +"Yes, but your reason was too weak to----" + +"Oh, well, you're right enough there," interrupted Lydia, smiling. "All +that talk of nerves and grief wasn't true. I didn't give my real reason, +but I will now. When I heard that the old man had been stabbed by a +stiletto I remembered that the one on the library wall had vanished some +time before the Christmas Eve on which Mark was killed. So you may guess +I was afraid." + +"For yourself?" + +"I guess not; it wasn't any of my funeral. I didn't take the stiletto, +nor did I know who had; but I was afraid you might think Ferruci took +it. The stiletto was Italian, and the Count is Italian, so it struck me +you might put two and two together and suspect Ercole. I never thought +you'd fix on me," concluded Lydia, with a scornful toss of her head. + +"As a matter of fact, I fixed on you both," said Lucian composedly. + +"And for what reason? Why should I and the Count murder poor Mark, if +you please? He was a fool and a bore, but I wished him no harm. I was +sorry as any one when I heard of his death, and I offered a good reward +for the catching of the mean skunk that killed him. If I had done so +myself I wouldn't have been such a fool as to sharpen the scent of the +hounds on my own trail." + +"You were in town on Christmas Eve?" said Denzil, not choosing to +explain the motives he believed the pair had for committing the crime. + +"I was. What of that?" + +"You were in Jersey Street, Pimlico, on that night." + +"I was never in Pimlico in my life!" declared Lydia wrathfully, "and, +as I said before, I don't know where Jersey Street is." + +"Do you know a man called Wrent?" + +"I never heard of him!" + +"Yet you visited him in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve, between seven +and eight o'clock." + +"Did I, really?" cried Mrs. Vrain, ironically, "and how can you prove I +did?" + +"By that cloak," said Lucian, pointing to where it lay on a chair. "You +wore that cloak and a velvet-spotted veil." + +"I haven't worn a veil of that kind for over a year," said Lydia +decisively, "though I admit I used to wear veils of that sort. You can +ask my maid if I have any velvet-spotted veils in my wardrobe just now. +As to the cloak--I never wear rabbit skins." + +"You might as a disguise." + +"Sakes alive, man, what should I want with a disguise? I tell you the +cloak isn't mine. You can soon prove that. Find out who made it, and go +and ask in the shop if I bought it." + +"How can I find out who made it?" asked Denzil, who was beginning to +feel that Lydia was one too many for him. + +"Here! I'll show you!" said Lydia, and picking up the cloak she turned +over the tab at the neck, by which it was hung up. At the back of this +there was a small piece of tape with printed black letters. "Baxter & +Co., General Drapers, Bayswater," she read out, throwing down the cloak +contemptuously. "I don't go to a London suburb for my frocks; I get +them in Paris." + +"Then you are sure this cloak isn't yours?" asked Lucian, much +perplexed. + +"No! I tell you it isn't! Go and ask Baxter & Co. if I bought it. I'll +go with you, if you like; or better still," cried Mrs. Vrain, jumping up +briskly, "I can take you to see some friends with whom I stayed on +Christmas Eve. The whole lot will tell you that I was with them at +Camden Hill all the night." + +"What! Can you prove an alibi?" + +"I don't know what you call it," retorted Lydia coolly, "but I can prove +pretty slick that I wasn't in Pimlico." + +"But--Mrs. Vrain--your friend--Ferruci was there!" + +"Was he? Well, I don't know. I never saw him that time he was in town. +But if you think he killed Mark you are wrong. I do not believe Ercole +would kill a fly, for all he's an Italian." + +"Do you think he took that stiletto?" + +"No, I don't!" + +"Then who did?" + +"I don't know. I don't even know when it was taken. I missed it after +Christmas, because that old schoolma'am told me it was gone." + +"Old schoolma'am!" + +"Well, Bella Tyler, if you like that better," retorted Mrs. Vrain. +"Come, now, Mr. Denzil, I'm not going to let you go away without proving +my--what do you call it?--alibi. Come with me right along to Camden +Hill." + +"I'll come just to satisfy myself," said Lucian, picking up the cloak, +"but I am beginning to feel that it is unnecessary." + +"You think I am innocent? Well," drawled Lydia, as Lucian nodded, "I +think that's real sweet of you. I mayn't be a saint, but I'm not quite +the sinner that Diana of yours makes me out." + +"Diana of mine, Mrs. Vrain?" said Lucian, colouring. + +The little woman laughed at his blush. + +"Oh, I'm not a fool, young man. I see how the wind blows!" And with a +nod she vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK? + + +Mrs. Vrain sacrificed the vanity of a lengthy toilette to a natural +anxiety to set herself right with Lucian, and appeared shortly in a +ravishing costume fresh from Paris. Perhaps by arraying herself so +smartly she wished to assure Denzil more particularly that she was a +lady of too much taste to buy rabbit-skin cloaks in Bayswater: or +perhaps--which was more probable--she was not averse to ensnaring so +handsome a young man into an innocent flirtation. + +The suspicion she entertained of Lucian's love for Diana only made Lydia +the more eager to fascinate him on her own account. A conceit of +herself, a hatred of her stepdaughter, and a desire to wring admiration +out of a man who did not wish to bestow it. These were the reasons which +led Mrs. Vrain to be particularly agreeable to the barrister. When the +pair were ensconced in a swift hansom, and rolling rapidly towards +Camden Hill, she began at once to prosecute her amiable designs. + +"I guess you'll not mind being my best boy for the day," she said, with +a coquettish glance. "You can escort me, first of all, to the Pegalls, +and afterwards we can drive to Baxter & Co.'s in Bayswater, so that you +can assure yourself I didn't buy that cloak." + +"I am much obliged for the trouble you are taking, Mrs. Vrain," replied +the young man, avoiding with some reserve the insinuating glances of his +pretty companion. "We shall do as you suggest. Who are the Pegalls, may +I ask?" + +"My friends, with whom I stopped on Christmas Eve," rejoined Mrs. Vrain. +"A real good, old, dull English family, as heavy as their own plum +puddings. Mrs. Pegall's a widow like myself, and I daresay she buys her +frocks in the Bayswater stores. She has two daughters who look like +barmaids, and ought to be, only they ain't smart enough. We had a real +Sunday at home on Christmas Eve, Mr. Denzil. Whist and weak tea at +eight, negus and prayers and bed at ten. Poppa wanted to teach them +poker, and they kicked like mad at the very idea; but that was when he +visited them before, I guess." + +"Not the kind of family likely to suit you, I should think," said +Lucian, regarding the little free-lance with a puzzled air. + +"I guess not. Lead's a feather to them for weight. But it's a good thing +to have respectable friends, especially in this slow coach of an old +country, where you size everybody up by the company they keep." + +"Ah!" said Lucian pointedly and--it must be confessed--rather rudely, +"so you have found the necessity of having respectable friends, however +dull?" + +"That's a fact," acknowledged Mrs. Vrain candidly. "I've had a queer +sort of life with poppa--ups and downs, and flyings over the moon, I +guess." + +"You are not American?" said Denzil suddenly. + +"Sakes! How do you figure that out?" + +"Because you are too pronouncedly Amurrican to be American." + +"That's an epigram with some truth in it," replied Lydia coolly. "Oh, +I'm as much a U. S. A. article as anything else. We hung out our shingle +in Wyoming, Wis., for a considerable time, and a girl who tickets +herself Yankee this side flies high. But I guess I'm not going to give +you my history," concluded Mrs. Vrain drily. "I'm not a Popey nor you a +confessor." + +"H'm! You've been in the South Seas, I see." + +"There's no telling. How do you know?" + +"The natives there use the word Popey to designate a Roman Catholic." + +"You are as smart as they make 'em, Mr. Denzil. There's no flies about +you; but I'm not going to give myself away. Ask poppa, if you want +information. He's that simple he'll tell you all." + +"Well, Mrs. Vrain, keep your own secret; it is not the one I wish to +discover. By the way, you say your father was at Camden Hill on +Christmas Eve?" + +"I didn't say so, but he was," answered Lydia quietly. "He was not very +well--pop can't stand these English winters--and wrote me to come up. +But he was so sick that he left the Pegalls' about six o'clock." + +"That was the letter which upset you." + +"It was. I see old Bella Tyler kept her eyes peeled. I got the letter +and came up at once. I've only got one parent left, and he's too good to +be shoved away in a box underground while fools live. But here we are at +the Pegalls'. I hope you'll like the kind of circus they run. +Campmeetings are nothing to it." + +The dwelling of the respectable family alluded to was a tolerably sized +house of red brick, placed in a painfully neat garden, and shut in from +the high road by a tall and jealous fence of green-painted wood. The +stout widow and two stout spinster daughters, who made up the inmates, +quite deserved Mrs. Vrain's epithet of "heavy." They were aggressively +healthy, with red cheeks, black hair, and staring black eyes devoid of +expression; a trio of Dutch dolls would have looked more intellectual. +They were plainly and comfortably dressed; the drawing-room was plainly +and comfortably furnished; and both house and inmates looked thoroughly +respectable and eminently dull. What such a hawk as Mrs. Vrain was doing +in this Philistine dove-cote, Lucian could not conjecture; but he +admired her tact in making friends with a family whose heavy gentility +assisted to ballast her somewhat light reputation; while the three of +their brains in unison could not comprehend her tricks, or the reasons +for which they were played. + +"At all events, these three women are too honest to speak anything but +the truth," thought Lucian while undergoing the ordeal of being +presented. "So I'll learn for certain if Mrs. Vrain was really here on +Christmas Eve." + +The Misses Pegall and their lace-capped mamma welcomed Lucian with heavy +good nature and much simpering, for they also had an eye to a comely +young man; but the cunning Lydia they kissed and embraced, and called +"dear" with much zeal. Mrs. Vrain, on her part, darted from one to the +other like a bird, pecking the red apples of their cheeks, and cast an +arch glance at Lucian to see if he admired her talent for manoeuvering. +Then cake and wine, port and sherry, were produced in the style of early +Victorian hospitality, from which epoch Mrs. Pegall dated, and all went +merry as a marriage bell, while Lydia laid her plans to have herself +exculpated in Lucian's eyes without being inculpated in those of the +family. + +"We have just come up from our place in Somerset," explained Mrs. +Pegall, in a comfortable voice. "The girls wanted to see the sights, so +I just said, 'we'll go, dears, and perhaps we'll get a glimpse of the +dear Queen.' I'm sure she has no more loyal subjects than we three." + +"Are you going out much this year, dear Mrs. Vrain?" asked Beatrice +Pegall, the elder and plainer of the sisters. + +"No, dear," replied Lydia, with a sigh, putting a dainty handkerchief +to her eyes. "You know what I have lost." + +The two groaned, and Miss Cecilia Pegall, who was by way of being very +religious in a Low Church way, remarked that "all flesh was grass," to +which observation her excellent mamma rejoined: "Very true, dear, very +true." And then the trio sighed again, and shook their black heads like +so many mandarins. + +"I should never support my grief," continued Lydia, still tearful, "if +it was not that I have at least three dear friends. Ah! I shall never +forget that happy Christmas Eve!" + +"Last Christmas Eve, dear Mrs. Vrain?" said Cecilia. + +"When you were all so kind and good," sobbed Lydia, with a glance at +Lucian, to see that he noticed the confirmation. "We played whist, +didn't we?" + +"Four rubbers," groaned Mrs. Pegall, "and retired to bed at ten o'clock, +after prayers and a short hymn. Quite a carol that hymn was, eh, dears?" + +"And your poor pa was so bad with his cough," said Beatrice, "I hope it +is better. He went away before dinner, too! Do say your pa is better!" + +"Yes, dear, much better," said Lydia, and considering it was four months +since Christmas Eve, Lucian thought it was time Mr. Clyne recovered. + +"He enjoyed his tea, though," said Cecilia. "Mr. Clyne always says there +is no tea like ours." + +"And no evenings," cried Lydia, who was very glad there were not. +"Poppa and I are coming soon to have a long evening--to play whist +again." + +"But, dear Mrs. Vrain, you are not going?" + +"I must, dears," with a kiss all round. "I have such a lot to do, and +Mr. Denzil is coming with me, as poppa wants to consult him about some +law business. He's a barrister, you know." + +"I hope Mr. Denzil will come and see us again," said Mrs. Pegall, +shaking hands with Lucian. A fat, puffy hand she had, and damp. + +"Oh, delighted! delighted!" said Denzil hurriedly. + +"Cards and tea, and sensible conversation," said Beatrice seriously, "no +more." + +"You forget prayers at ten, dear," rejoined Cecilia in low tones. + +"We are a plain family, Mr. Denzil. You must take us as we are." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Pegall, I will." + +"Good-bye, dears," cried Lydia again, and with a final peck all round +she skipped out and into the hansom, followed by her escort. + +"Damn!" said Mrs. Vrain, when the cab drove away in the direction of +Bayswater. "Oh, don't look so shocked, Mr. Denzil. I assure you I am not +in the habit of swearing, but the extreme respectability of the Pegalls +always makes me wish to relieve my feelings by going to the other +extreme. What do you think of them?" + +"They seem very good people, and genuine." + +"And very genteel and dull," retorted Lydia. "Like Washington, they +can't tell a lie for a red cent; so you can believe I was there with +poppa on Christmas Eve, only he went away, and I stayed all night." + +"Yes, I believe it, Mrs. Vrain." + +"Then I couldn't have been in Jersey Street or Geneva Square, sticking +Mark with the stiletto?" + +"No! I believe you to be innocent," said Lucian gravely. "In fact, I +really don't think it is necessary to find out about this cloak at +Baxter & Co.'s. I am assured you did not buy it." + +"I guess I didn't, Mr. Denzil; but you want to know who did, and so do +I. Well, you need not open your eyes. I'd like to know who killed Mark, +also; and you say that cloak will show it?" + +"I didn't say that; but the cloak may identify the woman I wrongfully +took for you. She may have to do with the matter." + +Lydia shook her pretty head. "Not she. Mark was as respectable as the +Pegall gang; there's no woman mixed up in this matter." + +"But I saw the shadow of a woman on the blind of No. 13!" + +"You don't say! In Mark's sitting-room? Well, I should smile to know he +was human, after all. He was always so precious stiff!" + +Something in Mrs. Vrain's light talk of her dead husband jarred on the +feelings of Lucian, and in some displeasure he held his peace. In no +wise abashed, Lydia feigned to take no notice of this tacit reproof, +but chatted on about all and everything in the most frivolous manner. +Not until they had entered the shop of Baxter & Co. did she resume +attention to business. + +"Here," she said to the smiling shopwalker, "I want to know by whom this +cloak was sold, and to what person." + +The man examined the cloak, and noted a private mark on it, which +evidently afforded him some information not obtainable by the general +public, for he guided Lucian and his companion to a counter behind which +stood a brisk woman with sharp eyes. In her turn she also examined the +cloak, and departed to refresh her memory by looking at some account +book. When she returned it was to intimate that the cloak had been +bought by a man. + +"A man!" repeated Lucian, much astonished. "What was he like?" + +"A dark man," replied the brisk shopwoman, "dark hair, dark eyes, and a +dark moustache. I remember him well, because he was a foreigner." + +"A foreigner?" repeated Lydia in her turn. "A Frenchman?" + +"No, madam--an Italian. He told me as much." + +"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Vrain. "You are right, Mr. Denzil. It's +Ferruci sure enough!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI + + +"It is quite impossible!" cried Mrs. Vrain distractedly. "I can't +believe it nohow!" + +The little woman was back again in her own drawing-room, talking to +Lucian about the discovery which had lately been made regarding +Ferruci's purchase of the cloak. Mrs. Vrain having proved her own +innocence by the evidence of the Pegall family, was now trying to +persuade both herself and Denzil that the Count could not be possibly +implicated in the matter. He had no motive to kill Vrain, she said, a +statement with which Lucian at once disagreed. + +"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vrain, he had two motives," said the barrister +quickly. "In the first place, he was in love, and wished to marry you; +in the second, he was poor, and wanted money. By the death of your +husband he hoped to gain both." + +"He has gained neither, as yet," replied Lydia sharply. "I like Ercole +well enough, and at one time I was almost engaged to him. But he has a +nasty temper of his own, Mr. Denzil, so I shunted him pretty smart to +marry Mark Vrain. I wouldn't marry him now if he dumped down a million +dollars at my feet to-morrow. Besides, poppa don't like him at all. I've +got my money, and I've got my freedom, and I don't fool away either the +one or the other on that Italian dude!" + +"Is the Count acquainted with these sentiments?" asked Lucian drily. + +"I guess so, Mr. Denzil. He asked me to marry him two months after +Mark's death, and I just up and told him pretty plain how the cat +jumped." + +"In plain English, you refused him?" + +"You bet I did!" cried Lydia vigorously. "So you see, Mr. Denzil, he +could not have killed Mark." + +"Why not? He did not know your true mind until two months after the +murder." + +"That's a fact, anyhow," commented Mrs. Vrain. "But what the mischief +made him buy that rabbit-skin cloak?" + +"I expect he bought it for the woman I mistook for you." + +"And who may she be?" + +"That is just what I wish to find out. This woman who came to Jersey +Street so often wore this cloak; therefore, she must have obtained it +from the Count. I'll make him tell me who she is, and what she has to do +with this crime." + +"Do you think she has anything to do with it?" said Mrs. Vrain +doubtfully. + +"I am certain. It must have been her shadow I saw on the blind." + +"And the man's shadow was the Count's?" questioned Lydia. + +"I think so. He bought the cloak for the woman, visited the man Wrent at +Jersey Street, and was seen by the servant in the back yard. He did not +act thus without some object, Mrs. Vrain, you may be sure of that." + +"Sakes!" said Lydia, with a weary sigh. "I ain't sure of anything save +that my head is buzzing like a sawmill. Who is Wrent, anyhow?" + +"I don't know. An old man with white beard and a skull-cap of black +velvet." + +"Ugh!" said Mrs. Vrain, with a shiver. "Mark used to wear a black +skull-cap, and the thought of it makes me freeze up. Sounds like a judge +of your courts ordering a man to be lynched. Well, Mr. Denzil, it seems +to me as you'd best hustle Ercole. If he knows who the woman is--and he +wouldn't buy cloaks for her if he didn't--he'll know who this Wrent is. +I guess he can supply all information." + +"Where does he live?" + +"Number 40, Marquis Street, St. James's. You go and look him up, while I +tell poppa what a mean white he is. I guess poppa won't let him come +near me again. Pop's an honest man, though he ain't no Washington." + +"Suppose I find out that he killed your husband?" asked Lucian, rising. + +"Then you'd best lynch him right away," replied Lydia without +hesitation. "I draw the line at murder--some!" + +The barrister was somewhat disgusted to hear Mrs. Vrain so coolly devote +her whilom admirer to a shameful death. However, he knew that her heart +was hard and her nature selfish; so there was little use in showing any +outward displeasure at her want of charity. She had cleared herself from +suspicion, and evidently cared not who suffered, so long as she was safe +and well spoken of. Moreover, Lucian had learned all he wished about her +movements on the night of the crime, and taking a hasty leave, he went +off to Marquis Street for the purpose of bringing Ferruci to book for +his share in the terrible business. However, the Count proved to be from +home, and would not be back, so the servant said, until late that night. + +Denzil therefore left a message that he would call at noon the next day, +and drove from St. James's to Kensington, where he visited Diana. Here +he detailed what he had learned and done from the time he had visited +Mrs. Bensusan up to the interview with Lydia. Also he displayed the +cloak, and narrated how Mrs. Vrain had cleared herself of its purchase. + +To all this Diana listened with the greatest interest, and when Lucian +ended she looked at him for some moments in silence. In fact, Diana, +with all her wit and common sense, did not know how to regard the +present position of affairs. + +"Well, Miss Vrain," said Lucian, seeing that she did not speak, "what +do you think of it all?" + +"Mrs. Vrain appears to be innocent," said Diana in a low voice. + +"Assuredly she is! The evidence of the Pegall family--given in all +innocence--proves that she could not have been in Geneva Square or in +Jersey Street on Christmas Eve." + +"Then we come back to my original belief, Mr. Denzil. Lydia did not +commit the crime herself, but employed Ferruci to do so." + +"No," replied Denzil decidedly. "Whether the Italian is guilty or not, +Mrs. Vrain knows nothing about it. If she were cognisant of his guilt +she would not have risked going with me to Baxter & Co., and letting me +discover that Ferruci had bought the cloak. Nor would she so lightly +surrender a possible accomplice as she has done Ferruci. Whatever can be +said of Mrs. Vrain's conduct--and I admit that it is far from +perfect--yet I must say that she appears, by the strongest evidence, to +be totally innocent and ignorant. She knows no more about the matter +than her father does." + +"Well," said Diana, unwilling to grant her stepmother too much grace, +"we must give her the benefit of the doubt. What about Ferruci?" + +"So far as I can see, Ferruci is guilty," replied Lucian. "To clear +himself he will have to give the same proof as Mrs. Vrain. Firstly, he +will have to show that he was not in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve; +secondly, he will have to prove that he did not buy the cloak. But in +the face of the servant's evidence, and the statement of the shopwoman, +he will find it difficult to clear himself. Yet," added Lucian, +remembering his failure with Lydia, "it is always possible that he may +do so." + +"It seems to me, Mr. Denzil, that your only chance of getting at the +truth is to see the Italian." + +"I think so myself. I will see him to-morrow." + +"Will you take Mr. Link with you?" + +"No, Miss Vrain. As I have found out so much without Link, I may as well +proceed in the matter until his professional services are required to +arrest Count Ferruci. By the way, I have never seen that gentleman. Can +you describe his appearance to me?" + +"Oh, as far as looks go there is no fault to be found with him," +answered Diana. "He is a typical Italian, tall, slender, and olive +complexioned. He speaks English very well, indeed, and appears to be +possessed of considerable education. Certainly, to look at him, and to +speak with him, you would not think he was a villain likely to murder a +defenceless old man. But if he did not kill my poor father, I know not +who did." + +"I'll call on him to-morrow at noon," said Lucian, "and later on I shall +come here to tell you what has passed between us." + +This remark brought the business between them to a close, but Lucian +would fain have lingered to engage Diana in lighter conversation. Miss +Vrain, however, was too much disturbed by the news he had brought her +to indulge in frivolous talk. Her mind, busied with recollections of her +deceased father, and anxiously seeking some means whereby to avenge his +death, was ill attuned to encourage at the moment the aspirations which +she knew Lucian entertained. + +The barrister, therefore, sighed and hinted in vain. His Dulcinea would +have none of him or his courting, and he was compelled to retire, as +disconsolate a lover as could be seen. To slightly alter the saying of +Shakespeare, "the course of true love never does run smooth," but there +were surely an unusual number of obstacles in the current of Denzil's +desires. But as he consoled himself with reflecting that the greater the +prize the harder it is to win, so it behooved him to do his devoir like +a true knight. + +The next day, at noon, Lucian, armed for the encounter with the evidence +of Rhoda and of the cloak, presented himself at the rooms which Count +Ferruci temporarily inhabited in Marquis Street. He not only found the +Italian ready to receive him, but in full possession of the adventure of +the cloak, which, as he admitted, he had learned from Lydia the previous +evening. Also, Count Ferruci was extremely indignant, and informed +Lucian that he was easily able to clear himself of the suspicion. While +he raged on in his fiery Italian way, Denzil, who saw no chance of +staying the torrent of words, examined him at his leisure. + +Ercole Ferruci was, as Diana had said, a singularly handsome man of +thirty-five. He was dark, slender, and tall, with dark, flashing eyes, a +heavy black moustache, and an alert military look about him which showed +that he had served in the army. The above description savours a trifle +of the impossible hero of a young lady's dream; and, as a matter of +fact, Ferruci was not unlike that ideal personage. He had all the looks +and graces which women admire, and seemed honest and fiery enough in a +manly way--the last person, as Lucian thought, to gain his aims by +underhand ways, or to kill a helpless old man. But Lucian, legally +experienced in human frailty, was not to be put off with voluble +conversation and outward graces. He wished for proofs of innocence, and +these he tried to obtain as soon as Ferruci drew breath in his fiery +harangue. + +"If you are innocent, Count," said Lucian, in reply to the fluent, +incorrect English of the Italian, "appearances are against you. However, +you can prove yourself innocent, if you will." + +"Sir!" cried Ferruci, "is not my word good?" + +"Not good enough for an English court," replied Lucian coldly. "You say +you were not in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve. Who can prove that?" + +"My friend--my dear friend, Dr. Jorce of Hampstead, sir. I was with him; +oh, yes, sir, he will tell you so." + +"Very good! I hope his evidence will clear you," replied the more +phlegmatic Englishman. "And this cloak?" + +"I never bought the cloak! I saw it not before!" + +"Then come with me to the shop in Bayswater, and hear what the girl who +sold it says." + +"I will come at once!" cried Ferruci hastily, catching up his cane and +hat. "Come, then, my friend! Come! What does the woman say?" + +"That she sold the cloak to a tall man--to a dark man with a moustache, +and one who told her he was Italian." + +"Bah!" retorted the Count, as they hailed a hansom. "Is all that she can +say? Why, all we Italians are supposed to be tall and dark, and wear +moustaches. Your common people in England never fancy one of us can be +fair." + +"You are not fair," replied Lucian drily, "and your looks correspond to +the description." + +"True! Oh, yes, sir! But that description might describe a dozen of my +countrymen. And, Mr. Denzil," added the Count, laughing, "I do not go +round about saying to common people that I am an Italian. It is not my +custom to explain." + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and said no more until they entered the +shop in Bayswater. As he knew from the previous visit where the +saleswoman was located, he led the Count rapidly to the place. The girl +was there, as brisk and businesslike as ever. She looked up as they +approached, and came forward to serve them, with a swift glance at both. + +"I am sorry to trouble you again," said Lucian ceremoniously, "but you +told me yesterday that you sold a blue cloak, lined with rabbit skin, +to an Italian gentleman, and--" + +"And am I the gentleman?" interrupted Ferruci. "Did I buy a cloak?" + +"No," replied the shopwoman, after a sharp glance. "This is not the +gentleman who bought the cloak." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A NEW DEVELOPMENT + + +"You see, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci, turning triumphantly to Lucian, "I +did not buy this cloak; I am not the Italian this lady speaks of." + +Lucian was extremely astonished at this unexpected testimony in favour +of the Count, and questioned the shopwoman sharply. "Are you certain of +what you say?" he asked, looking at her intently. + +"Yes, I am, sir," replied the girl stiffly, as though she did not like +her word doubted. "The gentleman who bought the cloak was not so tall as +this one, nor did he speak English well. I had great difficulty in +learning what he wanted." + +"But you said that he was dark, with a moustache--and--" + +"I said all that, sir; but this is not the gentleman." + +"Could you swear to it?" said Lucian, more chagrined than he liked to +show to the victorious Ferruci. + +"If it is necessary, I could, sir," said the shopwoman, with the +greatest confidence. And after so direct a reply, and such certain +evidence, Denzil had nothing to do but retire from an awkward position +as gracefully as he could. + +"And now, sir," said Ferruci, who had followed him out of the shop, "you +come with me, please." + +"Where to?" asked Lucian gloomily. + +"To my friend--to my rooms. I have shown I did not buy the cloak you +speak of. Now we must find my friend, Dr. Jorce, to tell you I was not +at Jersey Street when you say." + +"Is Dr. Jorce at your rooms?" + +"I asked him to call about this time," said Ferruci, glancing at his +watch. "When Mrs. Vrain speak to me of what you say I wish to defend +myself, so I write last night to my friend to talk with you this day. I +get his telegram saying he would come at two hours." + +Lucian glanced in his turn at his watch. "Half-past one," he said, +beckoning to a cab. "Very good, Count, we will just have time to get +back to your place." + +"And what you think now?" said Ferruci, with a malicious twinkle in his +eyes. + +"I do not know what to think," replied Lucian dismally, "save that it is +a strange coincidence that _another_ Italian should have bought the +cloak." + +The Count shrugged his shoulders as they got into the hansom, but he did +not speak until they were well on their way back to Marquis Street. He +then looked thoughtfully at his companion. "I do not believe +coincidence," he said abruptly, "but in design." + +"What do you mean, Count? I do not quite follow you." + +"Some one who knows I love Mrs. Vrain wish to injure me," said the +Italian rapidly, "and so make theirself like me to buy that cloak. Ah! +you see? But he could not make himself as tall as me. Oh, yes, sir, I am +sure it is so." + +"Do you know any one who would disguise himself so as to implicate you +in the murder?" + +"No." Ferruci shook his head. "I cannot think of one man--not one." + +"Do you know a man called Wrent?" asked Lucian abruptly. + +"I do not, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci at once. "Why do you ask?" + +"Well, I thought he might be the man to disguise himself. But no," added +Lucian, remembering Rhoda's account of Wrent's white hair and beard, "it +cannot be him. He would not sacrifice his beard to carry out the plan; +in fact he could not without attracting Rhoda's attention." + +"Rhoda! Wrent! What strange names you talk of!" cried Ferruci +vivaciously. + +"No stranger than that of your friend Jorce." + +Ferruci laughed. "Oh, he is altogether most strange. You see." + +It was as the Italian said. Dr. Jorce--who was waiting for them in the +Count's room--proved to be a small, dried-up atom of a man, who looked +as though all the colour had been bleached out of him. At first sight he +was more like a monkey than a man, owing to his slight, queer figure +and agile movements; but a closer examination revealed that he had a +clever face, and a pair of most remarkable eyes. These were of a +steel-grey hue, with an extraordinary intensity of gaze; and when he +fixed them on Lucian at the moment of introduction the young barrister +felt as though he were being mesmerised. + +For the rest, Jorce was dressed sombrely in black cloth, was extremely +voluble and vivacious, and impressed Lucian with the idea that he was +less a fellow mortal than a changeling from fairyland. Quite an +exceptional man was Dr. Jorce, and, as the Italian said, "most strange." + +"My good friend," said Ferruci, laying his stern hand on the shoulder of +this oddity, "this gentleman wishes you to decide a--what do you +say?--bet?" + +"A bet!" cried the little doctor in a deep bass voice, but with some +indignation. "Do I understand, Count, that you have brought me all the +way from my place in Hampstead to decide a bet?" + +"Ah, but sir, it is a bet most important," said Ferruci, with a smile. +"This Mr. Denzil declares that he saw me in Pim--Pim--what?" + +"In Pimlico," said Lucian, seeing that Ferruci could not pronounce the +word. "I say that the Count was in Pimlico on Christmas Eve." + +"You are wrong, sir," said Jorce, with a wave of his skinny hand. "My +friend, Count Ferruci, was in my house at Hampstead on that evening." + +"Was he?" remarked Lucian, astonished at this confident assertion. "And +at what time did he leave?" + +"He did not leave till next morning. My friend the Count remained under +my roof all night, and left at twelve o'clock on Christmas morning." + +"So you see," said Ferruci airily to Lucian, "that I could not have done +what you think, as that was done--by what you said--between eleven and +twelve on that night." + +"Was the Count with you at ten o'clock on that evening?" asked Denzil. + +"Certainly he was; so you have lost your bet, Mr. Denzil. Sorry to bring +you such bad fortune, but truth is truth, you know." + +"Would you repeat this statement, if I wished?" + +"Why not? Call on me at any time. 'The Haven, Hampstead'; that will +always find me." + +"Ah, but I do not think it will be necessary for Mr. Denzil to call on +you, sir," interposed the Count rapidly. "You can always come to me. +Well, Mr. Denzil, are you satisfied?" + +"I am," replied Lucian. "I have lost my bet, Count, and I apologise. +Good-day, Dr. Jorce, and thank you. Count Ferruci, I wish you good-bye." + +"Not even _au revoir_?" said Ferruci mockingly. + +"That depends upon the future," replied Lucian coolly, and forthwith +went away in low spirits at the downfall of his hopes. Far from +revealing the mystery of Vrain's death, his late attempts to solve it +had resulted in utter failure. Lydia had cleared herself; Ferruci had +proved himself innocent; and Lucian could not make up his mind what was +now to be done. + +In this dilemma he sought out Diana, as, knowing from experience that +where a man's logic ends a woman's instinct begins, he thought she might +suggest some way out of the difficulty. On arriving at the Royal John +Hotel he found that Diana was waiting for him with great impatience; and +hardly giving herself time to greet him, she asked how he had fared in +his interview with Count Ferruci. + +"Has that man been arrested, Mr. Denzil?" + +"No, Miss Vrain. I regret to say that he has not been arrested. To speak +plainly, he has, so far as I can see, proved himself innocent." + +"Innocent! And the evidence against him?" + +"Is utterly useless. I brought him face to face with the woman who sold +the cloak, and she denies that Ferruci bought it." + +"But she said the buyer was an Italian." + +"She did, and dark, with a moustache. All the same, she did not +recognise the Count. She says the buyer was not so tall, and spoke worse +English." + +"Ferruci could make his English bad if he liked." + +"Probably; but he could not make his stature shorter. No, Miss Vrain, I +am afraid that our Italian friend, in spite of the evidence against him, +did not buy the cloak. That he resembles the purchaser in looks and +nationality is either a coincidence or----" + +"Or what?" seeing that Lucian hesitated. + +"Or design," finished the barrister. "And, indeed, the Count himself is +of this opinion. He believes that some one who wished to get him into +trouble personated him." + +"Has he any suspicions as to whom the person may be?" + +"He says not, and I believe him; for if he did suspect any particular +individual he certainly would gain nothing by concealment of the fact." + +"H'm!" said Diana thoughtfully, "so that denial of the saleswoman +disposes of the cloak's evidence. What about the Count's presence in +Jersey Street on Christmas Eve?" + +"He was not there!" + +"But Rhoda, the servant, saw him both in the house and in the back +yard!" + +"She saw a dark man, with a moustache, but she could not say that he was +a foreigner. She does not know Ferruci, remember. The man she saw must +have been the same as the purchaser of the cloak." + +"Where does Ferruci say he was?" + +"At Hampstead, visiting a friend." + +"Oh! And what does the friend say?" + +"He declares that the Count was with him on Christmas Eve and stayed all +night." + +"That is very convenient evidence for the Count, Mr. Denzil. Who is this +accommodating friend?" + +"A doctor called Jorce." + +"Can his word be trusted?" + +"So far as I can judge from his looks and a short acquaintance, I should +say so." + +"It was half-past eight when the servant saw the dark man run out of +the yard?" + +"Yes!" + +"And at half-past eight Ferruci was at Hampstead in the house of Dr. +Jorce?" + +"Not that I know of," said Lucian, remembering that he had asked Jorce +the question rather generally than particularly, "but the doctor +declared that Ferruci was with him at ten o'clock on that evening, and +did not leave him until next morning; so as your father was killed +between eleven and twelve, Ferruci must be innocent." + +"It would seem so, if this doctor is to be believed," muttered Diana +reflectively, "but judging by what you have told me, there is nothing to +show that Ferruci was _not_ in Pimlico at eight-thirty, and was _not_ +the man whom the servant saw." + +"Well, certainly he could get from Pimlico to Hampstead in an hour and a +half. However, the main point about all this evidence is, that neither +Ferruci nor Lydia Vrain killed your father." + +"No! no! that seems clear. Still! still! they know about it. Oh, I am +sure of it. It must have been Ferruci who was in Pimlico on that night. +If so, he knows who Wrent is, and why he stayed in Jersey Street." + +"Perhaps, although he denies ever hearing the name of Wrent. But I would +not be surprised if the man who could solve the mystery is----" + +"Who?--who?" + +"Doctor Jorce himself. I feel sure of it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TWO MONTHS PASS + + +Unwilling to give up prosecuting the Vrain case while the slightest hope +remained of solving its mystery, Lucian sought out Link, the detective, +and detailed all the evidence he had collected since the constituted +authorities had abandoned the matter. Although Mrs. Vrain and Ferruci +had exculpated themselves entirely, Denzil thought that Link, with his +professional distrust and trained sense of ferreting out secrets, might +discern better than himself whether such exculpations were warranted by +circumstances. + +Link heard all that Denzil had to tell him with outward indifference and +inward surprise; for while unwilling, through jealousy of an amateur, to +flatter the barrister by a visible compliment, yet he silently admitted +that Denzil had made his discoveries and profited by them with much +acuteness. What annoyed him, however, was that the young man had pushed +his inquiries to the uttermost limit; and that there was no chance of +any glory accruing to himself by prosecuting them further. Still, on the +possibility that something might come of it, he went over the ground +already traversed by the amateur detective. + +"You should have told me of your intentions when Miss Vrain spoke to you +in the first instance," he said to Lucian by way of rebuke. "As it is, +you have confused the clues so much that I do not know which one to +take." + +"It seems to me that I have pursued each clue until fate or circumstance +clipped it short," retorted Lucian, nettled by this injustice. "Mrs. +Vrain has defended herself successfully, much in the same way as Count +Ferruci has done. Your only chance of getting at the truth lies in +discovering Wrent; and unless Rhoda helps you there, I do not see how +you can trace the man." + +"I am of a different opinion," said Link, lying freely to conceal his +doubts of success in the matter. "As you have failed through lack of +experience, I shall attempt to unravel this skein." + +"You attempted to do so before, and gave it up because of the tangle," +said Lucian with quiet irony. "And unless you discover more than I have +done, you will dismiss the matter again as impossible. So far as I can +see, the mystery of Vrain's death is more of a mystery than ever, and +will never be solved." + +"I'll make one last attempt to unriddle it, however," answered Link, +with a confidence he was far from feeling, "but, of course--not being +one of your impossible detectives of fiction--I may fail." + +"You are certain to fail," said Lucian decisively, and with this +disheartening prophecy he left Link to his task of--apparently--spinning +ropes of sand. + +Whether it was that Link was so doubtful of the result as to extend +little energy in the search, or whether he really found the task +impossible of accomplishment, it is difficult to say, but assuredly he +failed as completely as Lucian predicted. With outward zeal he set to +work; interviewed Lydia and the Italian, to make certain that their +defence was genuine; examined the Pegall family, who were dreadfully +alarmed by their respectability being intruded upon by a common +detective, and obtained a fresh denial from Baxter & Co.'s saleswoman +that Ferruci was the purchaser of the cloak. Also he cross-questioned +Mrs. Bensusan and her sharp handmaid in the most exhaustive manner, and +did his best to trace out the mysterious Wrent who had so much to do +with the matter. He even called on Dr. Jorce at Hampstead, to satisfy +himself as to the actual time of Ferruci's arrival in that neighbourhood +on Christmas Eve. But here he received a check, for Jorce had gone +abroad on his annual holiday, and was not expected back for a month. + +In fact, Link did all that a man could do to arrive at the truth, only +to find himself, at the end of his labours, in the same position as +Lucian had been. Disgusted at this result, he threw up his brief, and +called upon Diana and Denzil, with whom he had previously made an +appointment, to notify them of his inability to bring the matter to a +satisfactory conclusion. + +"There is not the slightest chance of finding the assassin of Mr. +Vrain," said Link, after he had set forth at length his late failures. +"The more I go into the matter the more I see it." + +"Yet you were so confident of doing more than I," said Lucian quietly. + +Link turned sulkily, after the fashion of a bad loser. + +"I did my best," he retorted gloomily. "No man can do more. Some crimes +are beyond the power of the law to punish for sheer lack of proof. This +is one of them; and, so far as I can see, this unknown assassin will be +punished on Judgment Day--not before." + +"Then you don't think that Signor Ferruci is guilty?" said Diana. + +"No. He has had nothing to do with the matter; nor has Mrs. Vrain +brought about the death in any way." + +"You cannot say who killed my father?" + +"Not for certain, but I suspect Wrent." + +"Then why not find Wrent?" asked Diana bluntly. + +"He has hidden his trail too well," began Link, "and--and----" + +"And if you did find him," finished Denzil coolly, "he might prove +himself guiltless, after the fashion of Mrs. Vrain and Ferruci." + +"He might, sir; there is no knowing. But since you think I have done so +little, Mr. Denzil, let me ask you who it is you suspect?" + +"Dr. Jorce of Hampstead." + +"Pooh! pooh!" cried Link, with contempt. "He didn't kill the man--how +could he, seeing he was at Hampstead on that Christmas Eve midnight, as +I found out from his servants?" + +"I don't suspect him of actually striking the blow," replied Lucian, +"but I believe he knows who did." + +"Not he! Dr. Jorce has too responsible a position to mix himself up in a +crime from which he gains no benefit." + +"Why! what position does he hold?" + +"He is the owner of a private lunatic asylum. Is it likely that a man +like him would commit a murder?" + +"Again I deny that he did commit the crime; but I am certain, from the +very fact of his friendship with Ferruci, that he knows more than he +chooses to tell. Why should the Italian be intimate with the owner of a +private asylum--with a man so much beneath him in rank?" + +"I don't know, sir. But if you suspect Dr. Jorce you had better see him +when he comes back from his holidays--in a month." + +"Where is he now?" + +"In Italy, and the Count has gone with him." + +Diana and Lucian looked at one another, and the former spoke: "That is +strange," she said. "I agree with Mr. Denzil, it is peculiar, to say the +least of it, that an Italian noble should make a bosom friend of a man +so far inferior to him in position. Don't you think so yourself, Mr. +Link?" + +"Madam," said Link gravely, "I think nothing about it, save that you +will never find out the truth. I have tried my best, and failed; and I +am confident enough in my own power to say that where I have failed no +one else will succeed. Miss Vrain, Mr. Denzil, I wish you good-day." + +And with this bragging speech, which revealed the hurt vanity of the +man, Mr. Link took his departure. Lucian held his peace, for in the face +of this desertion of a powerful ally he did not know what to say. Diana +walked to the sitting-room window and watched Link disappear into the +crowd of passers-by. At that she heaved a sigh, for with him--she +thought--went every chance of learning the truth, since if he, an +experienced person in such matters, turned back from the quest, there +could assuredly be no help in any one not professional, and with less +trained abilities. + +Then she turned to Lucian. + +"There is nothing more to be done, I suppose," said she, sighing again. + +"I am afraid not," replied Lucian dismally, for he was quite of her +opinion regarding the desertion of the detective. + +"Then I must leave this unknown assassin to the punishment of God!" said +Diana quietly. "And I can only thank you for all you have done for me, +Mr. Denzil, and say"--she hesitated and blushed, then added, with some +emphasis--"say _au revoir_." + +"Ah!" ejaculated Denzil, with an indrawn breath of relief, "I am glad +you did not say good-bye." + +"I don't wish to say it, Mr. Denzil. I have not so many friends in the +world that I can afford to lose so good a one as yourself." + +"I am content," said Lucian softly, "that you should think of me as your +friend--for the present." + +His meaning was so unmistakable that Diana, still blushing, and somewhat +confused, hastened to prevent his saying more at so awkward a moment. +"Then as my friend I hope you will come and see me at Berwin Manor." + +"I shall be delighted. When do you go down?" + +"Within a fortnight. I must remain that time in town to see my lawyer +about the estate left by my poor father." + +"And see Mrs. Vrain?" + +"No," replied Diana coldly. "Now that my father is dead, Mrs. Vrain is +nothing to me. Indirectly, I look upon her as the cause of his death, +for if she had not driven both of us out of our own home, my father +might have been alive still. I shall not call on Mrs. Vrain, and I do +not think she will dare to call on me." + +"I'm not so sure of that," rejoined Lucian, who was well acquainted with +the lengths to which Mrs. Vrain's audacity would carry her; "but let us +dismiss her, with all your other troubles. May I call on you again +before you leave town?" + +"Occasionally," replied Diana, smiling and blushing; "and you will come +down to Berwin Manor when I send you an invitation?" + +"I should think so," said Denzil, in high glee, as he rose to depart; +"and now I will say----" + +"Good-bye?" said Miss Vrain, holding out her hand. + +"No. I will use your own form of farewell--_au revoir_." + +Then Lucian went out from the presence of his beloved, exulting that she +had proved so kind as not to dismiss him when she no longer required his +services. In another woman he would not have minded such ingratitude, +but had Diana banished him thus he would have been miserable beyond +words. Also, as Lucian joyfully reflected, her invitation to Berwin +Manor showed that, far from wishing to lose sight of him, she desired to +draw him into yet closer intimacy. There could be nothing but good +resulting from her invitation and his acceptance, and already Denzil +looked forward to some bright summer's day in the green and leafy +country, when he should ask this goddess among women to be his wife. If +encouragement and looks and blushes went for anything, he hardly doubted +the happy result. + +In the meantime, while Lucian dreamed his dreams, Diana, also dreaming +in her own way, remained in town and attended to business. She saw her +lawyers, and had her affairs looked into, so that when she went to Bath +she was legally installed as the mistress of Berwin Manor and its +surrounding acres. As Lucian hinted, Lydia did indeed try to see her +stepdaughter. She called twice, and was refused admission into Diana's +presence. She wrote three times, and received no reply to her letters; +so the consequence was that, finding Diana declined to have anything to +do with her in any way whatsoever, she became very bitter. This feeling +she expressed to Lucian, whom she one day met in Piccadilly. + +"As if I had done anything," finished Lydia, after a recital of all her +grievances. "I call it real mean. Don't you think so, Mr. Denzil?" + +"If you ask me, Mrs. Vrain," said Lucian stiffly, "I think you and Miss +Vrain are better apart." + +"Of course you defend her. But I guess I can't blame you, as I know what +you are driving at." + +"What about Signor Ferruci?" asked Denzil, parrying. + +"Oh, we are good friends still, but nothing more. As he proved that he +did not kill Mark, I've no reason to give him his walking-ticket. But," +added Mrs. Vrain drily, "I guess you'll be married to Diana before I +hitch up 'longside Ercole." + +"How do you know I shall marry Miss Vrain?" asked Lucian, flushing. + +"If you saw your face in a glass, you wouldn't ask, I guess. Tomatoes +ain't in it for redness. I won't dance at your wedding, and I won't +break my heart, either," and with a gay nod Mrs. Lydia Vrain tripped +away, evidently quite forgetful of the late tragedy in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +AT BERWIN MANOR + + +The heritage of Diana lay some miles from Bath, in a pleasant wooded +valley, through which meandered a placid and slow-flowing stream. On +either side of this water stretched broad meadow lands, flat and +fertile, as well they might be, seeing they were of rich black loam, and +well drained, withal. To the right these meadows were bounded by forest +lands, the trees of which grew thickly up and over the ridge, and on the +space where wood met fields was placed the manor, a quaint square +building of Georgian architecture, and some two centuries old. + +Against the green of the trees its warm walls of red brick and sloping +roof of bluish slate made a pleasant spot of colour. There stretched a +terrace before it; beneath the terrace a flower garden and orchard; and +below these the meadow lands, white with snow in winter, black in +spring, with ridgy furrows, and golden with grain in the hot days of +summer. Altogether a lovely and peaceful spot, where a man could pass +pleasant days in rural quiet, a hermitage of rest for the life-worn and +heart-weary. + +Here, towards the end of summer, came Lucian, to rest his brain after +the turmoil of London, and to court his mistress under the most +favourable circumstances. Diana had established herself in her ancestral +home with a superannuated governess as a chaperon, for without such a +guardianship she could hardly have invited the barrister to visit her. +Miss Priscilla Barbar was a placid, silver-haired old dame, who, having +taught Diana for many years, had returned, now that the American Mrs. +Vrain had departed, to spend the rest of her days under the roof of her +dear pupil. + +She took a great fancy to Lucian, which was just as well, seeing what +was the object of his visit, and complacently watched the growing +attachment between the handsome young couple, who seemed so suited to +one another. But her duties as chaperon were nominal, for when not +pottering about the garden she was knitting in a snug corner, and when +knitting failed to interest her she slumbered quietly, in defiance of +the etiquette which should have compelled her to make a third in the +conversation of her young friends. + +As for Lucian and his charming hostess, they found that they had so many +tastes in common, and enjoyed each other's society so much, that they +were hardly ever apart. Diana saw with the keen eyes of a woman that +Lucian was in love with her, and let it be seen in a marvellously short +space of time, and without much difficulty, that she was in love with +him. + +But even after Lucian had been at the manor a fortnight, and daily in +the society of Diana, he spoke no word of love. Seeing how beautiful she +was, and how dowered with lands and rents and horses, he began to ask +himself whether it was not rather a presumption on his part to ask her +to share his life. He had only three hundred a year--six pounds a +week--and a profession in which, as yet, he had not succeeded; so he +could offer her very little in exchange for her beauty, wealth, and +position. + +The poor lover became quite pale with fruitless longing, and his spirits +fell so low that good Miss Priscilla one day drew him aside to ask about +his health. + +"For," said she, "if you are ill in body, Mr. Denzil, I know of some +remedies--old woman's medicines you will call them, no doubt--which, +with the blessing of God, may do you good." + +"Thank you, Miss Barbar, but I am not ill in body--worse luck!" and +Lucian sighed. + +"Why worse luck, Mr. Denzil?" said the old lady severely. "That is an +ungrateful speech to Providence." + +"I would rather be ill in body than ill in mind," explained Denzil, +blushing, for in some ways he was younger than his years. + +"And are you ill in mind?" asked Miss Priscilla, with a twinkle in her +eyes. + +"Alas! yes. Can you cure me?" + +"No. For that cure I shall hand you over to Diana." + +"Miss Priscilla!" And Lucian coloured again, this time with vexation. + +"Oh, Mr. Denzil," laughed the governess, "because I am old you must not +imagine that I am blind. I see that you love Diana." + +"Better than my life!" cried the devoted lover with much fervour. + +"Of course! That is the usual romantic answer to make. Well, why do you +not tell Diana so, with any pretty additions your fancy suggests?" + +"She might not listen to me," said this doubting lover dolefully. + +"Very true," replied his consoler. "On the other hand, she might. +Besides, Mr. Denzil, however much the world may have altered since my +youth, I have yet to learn that it is the lady's part to propose to the +gentleman." + +"But, Miss Barbar, I am poor!" + +"What of that? Diana is rich." + +"Don't I know it? For that very reason I hesitate to ask her." + +"Because you are afraid of being called a fortune-hunter, I suppose," +said the old lady drily. "That shows a lack of moral courage which is +not worthy of you, Mr. Denzil. Take an old woman's advice, young man, +and put your fortunes to the test. Remember Montrose's advice in the +song." + +"You approve of my marrying Diana--I mean Miss Vrain?" + +"From what I have seen of you, and from what Diana has told me about +you, I could wish her no better husband. Poor girl! After the tragical +death of her father, and her wretched life with that American woman, she +deserves a happy future." + +"And do you think--do you really think that she--that she--would be +happy with--with me?" stammered Lucian, hardly daring to believe Miss +Priscilla, whose acquaintance with him seemed too recent to warrant such +trust. + +The wise old woman laughed and nodded. + +"Ask her yourself, my dear," she said, patting his hand. "She will be +able to answer that question better than I. Besides, girls like to say +'yea' or 'nay,' themselves." + +This seemed to be good advice, and certainly none could have been more +grateful to the timid lover. That very night he made up his mind to risk +his fortunes by speaking to Diana. It was no easy matter for the young +man to bring himself to do so, for cool, bold, and fluent as he was on +ordinary occasions, the fever of love rendered him shy and nervous. The +looks of Diana acted on his spirits as the weather does on a barometer. +A smile made him jocund and hilarious, a frown abashed him almost to +gloom. And in the April weather of her presence he was as variable as a +weather-cock. It is, therefore, little to be wondered at that one +ordinarily daring should tremble to ask a question which might be +answered in the negative. True, Miss Barbar's partisanship heartened him +a trifle, but he still feared for the result. Cupid, as well as +conscience, makes cowards of us all--and Lucian was a doubting lover. + +Towards the end of his stay Miss Priscilla--as usual--fell asleep one +evening after dinner, and Diana, feeling the house too warm, stepped out +into the garden, followed by Lucian. The sun had just set behind the +undulating hills, and the clear sky, to the zenith, was of a pale rose +colour, striped towards the western horizon with lines of golden cloud. +In the east a cold blue prevailed, and here and there a star sparkled in +the arch of the sky. + +The garden was filled with floating shadows, which seemed to glide into +it from the dark recesses of the near woods, and in a copse some +distance away a nightingale was singing to his mate, and filling the +silence with melody. The notes fluted sweetly through the still air, +mingling with the sigh of the rising wind and the musical splashing of +the fountain. This shot up a pillar of silvery water to a great height, +and in descending sprinkled the near flower beds with its cold spray. +All was inexpressibly beautiful to the eye and soothing to the ear--a +scene and an hour for love. It might have been the garden of the +Capulets, and those who moved in it--the immortal lovers, as yet +uncursed by Fate. + +"Only three more days," sighed Lucian as he walked slowly down the path +beside Diana, "and then that noisy London again." + +"Perhaps it is as well," said Diana, in her practical way. "You would +rust here. But is there any need for you to go back so soon?" + +"I must--for my own peace of mind." + +Diana started and blushed at the meaning of his tone and words. + +Then she recovered her serenity and sat down on an old stone seat, near +which stood a weather-beaten statue of Venus. Seeing that she kept +silent in spite of his broad hint, Lucian--to bring matters to a +crisis--resolved to approach the subject in a mythological way through +the image of the goddess. + +"I am sorry I am not a Greek, Miss Vrain," he said abruptly. + +"Why?" asked Diana, secretly astonished by the irrelevancy of the +remark. + +Lucian plucked a red rose from the bush which grew near the statue and +placed it on the pedestal. + +"Because I would lay my offering at the feet of the goddess, and touch +her knees to demand a boon." + +"What boon would you ask?" said Diana in a low voice. + +"I would beseech that in return for my rose of flowers she would give me +the rose of womanhood." + +"A modest request. Do you think it would be granted?" + +"Do you?" asked Lucian, picking up the rose again. + +"How can I reply to your parables, or read your dark sayings?" said +Diana, half in earnest, half in mirth. + +"I can speak plainer if you permit it." + +"If--if you like!" + +The young man laid the rose on Diana's lap. "Then in return for my rose +give me--yourself!" + +"Mr. Denzil!" cried Diana, starting up, whereby the flower fell to the +ground. "You--you surprise me!" + +"Indeed, I surprise myself," said Lucian sadly. "That I should dare to +raise my eyes to you is no doubt surprising." + +"I don't see that at all," exclaimed Diana coldly. "I like to be woo'd +like a woman, not honoured like a goddess." + +"You are both woman and goddess! But--you are not angry?" + +"Why should I be angry?" + +"Because I--I love you!" + +"I cannot be angry with--with--shall we say a compliment." + +"Oh, Diana!" + +"Wait! wait!" cried Miss Vrain, waving back this too eager lover. "You +cannot love me! You have known me only a month or two." + +"Love can be born in an hour," cried Lucian eagerly. "I loved you on the +first day I saw you! I love you now--I shall love you ever!" + +"Will you truly love me ever, Lucian?" + +"Oh, my darling! Can you doubt it? And you?" He looked at her hopefully. + +"And I?" she repeated in a pretty mocking tone, "and I?" With a laugh, +she bent and picked up the flower. "I take the rose and I give you--" + +"Yourself!" cried the enraptured lover, and the next moment he was +clasping her to his breast. "Oh, Diana, dearest! Will you really be my +wife?" + +"Yes," she said softly, and kissed him. + +For a few moments the emotions of both overcame them too much to permit +further speech; then Diana sat down and made Lucian sit beside her. + +"Lucian," she said in a firm voice, "I love you, and I shall be your +wife--when you find out who killed my poor father!" + +"It is impossible!" he cried in dismay. + +"No. We must prosecute the search. I have no right to be happy while the +wretch who killed him is still at large. We have failed hitherto, but we +may succeed yet! and when we succeed I shall marry you." + +"My darling!" cried Lucian in ecstasy; and then in a more subdued tone: +"I'll do all I can to find out the truth. But, after all, from what +point can I begin afresh?" + +"From the point of Mrs. Vrain," said Diana unexpectedly. + +"Mrs. Vrain!" cried the startled Lucian. "Do you still suspect her?" + +"Yes, I do!" + +"But she has cleared herself on the most undeniable evidence." + +"Not in my eyes," said Diana obstinately. "If Mrs. Vrain is innocent, +how did she find out that the unknown man murdered in Geneva Square was +my father?" + +"By his assumption of the name of Berwin, which was mentioned in the +advertisement; also from the description of the body, and particularly +by the mention of the cicatrice on the right cheek, and of the loss of +the little finger of the left hand." + +Diana started. "I never heard that about the little finger," she said +hurriedly. "Are you sure?" + +"Yes. I saw myself when I knew your father as Berwin, that he had lost +that little finger." + +"Then, Lucian, you did _not_ see my father!" + +"What!" cried Denzil, hardly able to credit her words. + +"My father never lost a finger!" cried Diana, starting to her feet. "Ah, +Lucian, I now begin to see light. That man who called himself Berwin, +who was murdered, was not my father. No, I believe--on my soul, I +believe that my father, Mark Vrain, is alive!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A STARTLING THEORY + + +When Diana declared that her father yet lived, Lucian drew back from her +in amazement, for of all impossible things said of this impossible case +this saying of hers was the strangest and most incredible. Hitherto, not +a suspicion had entered his mind but that the man so mysteriously slain +in Geneva Square was Mark Vrain, and, for the moment, he thought that +Diana was distraught to deny so positive a fact. + +"It is impossible," said he, shaking his head, "quite impossible. Mrs. +Vrain identified the corpse, and so did other people who knew your +father well." + +"As to Mrs. Vrain," said Diana contemptuously, "I quite believe she +would lie to gain her own ends. And it may be that the man who was +murdered was like my father in the face, but--" + +"He had the mark on his cheek," interrupted Lucian, impatient of this +obstinate belief in the criminality of Lydia. + +"I know that mark well," replied Miss Vrain. "My father received it in a +duel he fought in his youth, when he was a student in a German +university; but the missing finger." She shook her head. + +"He might have lost the finger while you were in Australia," suggested +the barrister. + +"He might," rejoined Diana doubtfully, "but it is unlikely. As to other +people identifying the body, they no doubt did so by looking at the face +and its scar. Still, I do not believe the murdered man was my father." + +"If not, why should Mrs. Vrain identify the body as that of her +husband?" + +"Why? Because she wanted to get the assurance money." + +"She may have been misled by the resemblance of the dead man to your +father." + +"And who provided that resemblance? My dear Lucian, I would not be at +all surprised to learn that there was conspiracy as well as murder in +this matter. My father left his home, and Lydia could not find him. I +quite believe that. As she cannot prove his death, she finds it +impossible to obtain the assurance money; so what does she do?" + +"I cannot guess," said Lucian, anxious to hear Diana's theory. + +"Why, she finds a man who resembles my father, and sets him to play the +part of the recluse in Geneva Square. She selects a man in ill health +and given to drink, that he may die the sooner; and, by being buried as +Mark Vrain, give her the money she wants. When you told me of this man +Berwin's coughing and drinking, I thought it strange, as my father had +no consumptive disease when I left him, and never, during his life, was +he given to over-indulgence in drink. Now I see the truth. This dead man +was Lydia's puppet." + +"Even granting that this is so, which I doubt, Diana, why should the man +be murdered?" + +"Why?" cried Diana fiercely. "Because he was not dying quickly enough +for that woman's purpose. She did not kill him herself, if her alibi is +to be credited, but she employed Ferruci to murder him." + +"You forget Signor Ferruci also proved an alibi." + +"A very doubtful one," said Miss Vrain scornfully. "You did not ask that +Dr. Jorce the questions you should have done. Go up to London now, +Lucian, see him at Hampstead, and find out if Ferruci was at his house +at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve. Then I shall believe him guiltless; +till then, I hold him but the creature and tool of Lydia." + +"Jorce declares that Ferruci was with him at the house when the murder +was committed?" + +"Can you believe that? Ferruci may have made it worth the while of this +doctor to lie. And even granting that much, the presence of Ferruci at +the Jersey Street house shows that he knew what was going to take place +on that night, and perhaps arranged with another man to do the deed. +Either way you look at it, he and Lydia are implicated." + +"I tell you it is impossible, Diana," said Lucian, finding it vain to +combat this persistent belief. "All this plotting of crime is such as +is found in novels, not in real life----" + +"In real life," cried Diana, taking the words out of his mouth, "more +incredible things take place than can be conceived by the most fantastic +imagination of an author. Look at this talk of ours--it began with words +of love and marriage speeches, and it ends with a discussion of murder. +But this I say, Lucian, that if you love me, and would have me marry +you, you must find out the truth of these matters. Learn if this dead +man is my father--for from what you have told me of the lost finger I do +not believe that he is. Hunt down the assassin, and discover if he is +whom I believe him to be--Ferruci himself; and learn, if you can, what +Lydia has to do with all these evil matters. Do this, and I am yours. +Refuse, and I shall not marry you!" + +"You set me a hard task," said Lucian, with a sigh, "and I hardly know +how to set about it." + +"Be guided by me," replied Diana. "Go up to London and put an +advertisement in the papers offering a reward for the discovery of my +father. He is of medium height, with grey hair, and has a clean-shaven +face, with a scar on it----" + +"You describe the dead man, Diana." + +"But he has not lost a finger," continued Diana, as though she had not +heard him. "If my father, for fear of Lydia, is in hiding, he will come +to you or me in answer to that advertisement." + +"But he must have seen the report of his death by violence in the +papers, if indeed he is alive," urged Lucian, at his wit's end. + +"My father is weak in the head, and perhaps was afraid to come out in +the midst of such trouble. But if you put in the advertisement that +I--his daughter--am in England, he will come to me, for with me he knows +he is safe. Also call on Dr. Jorce, and find out the truth about Signor +Ferruci." + +"And then?" + +"Then when you have done these two things we shall see what will come of +them. Promise me to do what I ask you." + +"I promise," said Lucian, taking her hand, "but you send me on a +wild-goose chase." + +"That may be, Lucian, but my heart--my +presentiment--my--instinct--whatever you like to call it--tells me +otherwise. Now let us go inside." + +"Shall we tell Miss Barbar of our engagement?" asked Denzil timidly. + +"No; you will tell no one of that until we learn the truth of this +conspiracy. When we do, Lucian, you will find that my father is not dead +but is alive, and will be at our wedding." + +"I doubt it--I doubt it." + +"I am sure of it," answered Diana, and slipping her hand within the arm +of her lover she walked with him up to the house. It was the strangest +of wooings. + +Miss Barbar, with a true woman's interest in love affairs, was inclined +to congratulate them both when they entered, deeming--as the chance had +been so propitious--that Lucian had proposed. But Diana looked so +stern, and Lucian so gloomy, that she held her peace. + +Later on, when her curiosity got the better of her desire not to offend +her pupil, she asked if Denzil had spoken. + +"Yes," replied Diana, "he has spoken." + +"And you have refused him?" cried the old lady in dismay, for she did +not relish the idea that Lucian should have lost by her counsel. + +"No; I have not refused him." + +"Then you have said 'yes,' my dear!" + +"I have said sufficient," replied Diana cautiously. "Please do not +question me any further, Miss Barbar. Lucian and I understand one +another very well." + +"She calls him by his Christian name," thought the wise old dame, "that +is well. She will not speak of her happiness, that is ill," and in +various crafty ways Miss Barbar tried to learn how matters actually +stood between the pair. + +But if she was skilful in asking questions, Diana was equally skilful in +baffling them, and Miss Barbar learned nothing more than her pupil chose +to tell her, and that was little enough. To perplex her still further, +Lucian departed for London the next day, with a rather disconsolate look +on his handsome face, and gave his adviser no very satisfactory +explanation at parting. + +So Miss Barbar was forced to remain in ignorance of the success or +failure of her counsel, and could by no means discover if the marriage +she was so anxious to bring about was likely to take place. And so ended +Denzil's visit to Berwin Manor. + +In the meantime, Lucian went back to London with a heavy heart, for he +did not see how he was to set about the task imposed on him by Diana. At +first he thought it would be best to advertise, as she advised, but this +he considered would do no good, as if Vrain--supposing him to be alive +and in hiding--would not come out at the false report of his murder, he +certainly would not appear in answer to an advertisement that might be a +snare. + +Then Lucian wondered if it would be possible to have the grave opened a +second time that Diana might truly see if the corpse was that of her +father or of another man. But this also was impossible, and--to speak +plainly--useless, for by this time the body would not be recognisable; +therefore, it would be of little use to exhume the poor dead man, +whomsoever he might be, for the second time. Finally, Lucian judged it +would be wisest of all to call on Dr. Jorce, and find out why he was +friendly with Ferruci, and how much he knew of the Italian's doings. + +While the barrister was making up his mind to this course he was +surprised to receive a visit from no less a person than Mr. Jabez Clyne, +the father of Lydia. + +The little man, usually so bright and merry, now looked worried and ill +at ease. Lucian--so much as he had seen of him--had always liked him +better than Lydia, and was sorry to see him so downcast. Nor when he +learned the reason was he better pleased. Clyne told it to him in a +roundabout way. + +"Do you know anything against Signor Ferruci?" he asked, when the first +greetings were over. + +"Very little, and that bad," replied Denzil shortly. + +"Do you refer to the horrible death of my son-in-law?" + +"Yes, I do, Mr. Clyne. I believe Ferruci had a hand in it, and if you +bring him here I'll tell him so." + +"Can you prove it?" asked Clyne eagerly. + +"No. As yet, Ferruci has proved that he was not in Geneva Square on the +night of the crime--or rather," added Lucian, correcting himself, "at +the hour when the murder was committed." + +Clyne's face fell. "I wish you could discover if he is guilty or not," +he said. "I am anxious to know the truth." + +"Why?" asked Lucian bluntly. + +"Because if he is guilty, I don't want my daughter to marry a murderer." + +"What! Is Mrs. Vrain going to marry him?" + +"Yes," said the little man disconsolately, "and I wish she wasn't." + +"So do I--for her own sake. I thought she did not like him. She said as +much to me." + +"I can't make her out, Mr. Denzil. She grew tired of him for a time, but +now she has taken up with him again, and nothing I can say or do will +stop the marriage. I love Lydia beyond words, as she is my only child, +and I don't want to see her married to a man of doubtful reputation like +Ferruci. So I thought I'd call and see if you could help me." + +"I can't," replied Lucian. "As yet I have found out nothing likely to +implicate Ferruci in the crime." + +"But you may," said Clyne hopefully. + +Lucian shrugged his shoulders. + +"If I do, you shall know at once," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +LUCIAN IS SURPRISED + + +Although Denzil received Mr. Clyne with all courtesy, and promised to +aid him, if he could, in breaking off the marriage with Ferruci, by +revealing his true character to Mrs. Vrain, he by no means made a +confidant of the little man, or entrusted him with the secret of his +plans. Clyne, as he well knew, was dominated in every way by his astute +daughter, and did he learn Lucian's intentions, he was quite +capable--through sheer weakness of character--of revealing the same to +Lydia, who, in her turn--since she was bent upon marrying Ferruci--might +retail them to the Italian, and so put him on his guard. + +Denzil, therefore, rid himself of the American by promising to tell him, +on some future occasion, all that he knew about Ferruci. Satisfied with +this, Clyne departed in a more cheerful mood, and, apparently, hoped for +the best. + +After his departure, Lucian again began to consider his idea of calling +on Jorce regarding the alibi of Ferruci. On further reflection he judged +that, before paying the visit to Hampstead, it might be judicious to +see Rhoda again, and refresh his memory in connection with the events of +Christmas Eve. With this idea he put on his hat, and shortly after the +departure of Clyne walked round to Jersey Street. + +On ringing the bell, the door was opened by Rhoda in person, looking +sharper and more cunning than ever. She informed him that he could not +see Mrs. Bensusan, as that good lady was in bed with a cold. + +"I don't want to see your mistress, my girl," said Lucian quickly, to +stop Rhoda from shutting the door in his face, which she seemed disposed +to do. "I desire to speak with you." + +"About that there murder?" asked Rhoda sharply. Then in reply to the nod +of Lucian she continued: "I told you all I knew about it when you called +before. I don't know nothing more." + +"Can you tell me the name of the dark man you saw in the yard?" + +"No, I can't. I know nothing about him." + +"Did you ever hear Mr. Wrent mention his name?" + +"No, sir. He called and he went, and I saw him in the back yard at 8.30. +I never spoke to him, and he never spoke to me." + +"Could you swear to the man if you saw him?" + +"Yes, I could. Have you got him with you?" asked Rhoda eagerly. + +"Not at present," answered Lucian, rather surprised by the vindictive +expression on the girl's face. "But later on I may call upon you to +identify him." + +"Do you know who he is?" asked the servant quickly. + +"I think so." + +"Did he kill that man?" + +"Possibly," said Denzil, wondering at these very pointed questions. "Why +do you ask?" + +"I have my reasons, sir. Where is my cloak?" + +"I will return it later on; it will probably be used as evidence." + +Rhoda started. "Where?" she demanded, with a frown. + +"At the trial." + +"Do you think they'll hang the person who killed Mr. Vrain?" + +"If the police catch him, and his guilt is proved, I am sure they will +hang him." + +The girl's eyes flashed with a wicked light, and she clasped and +unclasped her hands with a quick, nervous movement. "I hope they will," +she said in a low, rapid voice. "I hope they will." + +"What!" cried Lucian, with a step forward. "Do you know the assassin?" + +"No!" cried Rhoda, with much vehemence. "I swear I don't, but I think +the murderer ought to be hanged. I know--I know--well, I know +something--see me to-morrow night, and you'll hear." + +"Hear what?" + +"The truth," said this strange girl, and shut the door before Lucian +could say another word. + +The barrister, quite dumbfounded, remained on the step looking at the +closed door. So important were Rhoda's words that he was on the point of +ringing again, to interview her once more and force her to speak. But +when he reflected that Mrs. Bensusan was in bed, and that Rhoda alone +could reopen the door--which from her late action it was pretty evident +she would not do--he decided to retire for the present. It was little +use to call in the police, or create trouble by forcing his way into the +house, as that might induce Rhoda to run away before giving her +evidence. So Lucian departed, with the intention of keeping the next +night's appointment, and hearing what Rhoda had to say. + +"The truth," he repeated, as he walked along the street. "Evidently she +knows who killed this man. If so, why did she not speak before, and why +is she so vindictive? Heavens! If Diana's belief should be a true one, +and her father not dead? Conspiracy! murder! this gypsy girl, that +subtle Italian, and the mysterious Wrent! My head is in a whirl. I +cannot understand what it all means. To-morrow, when Rhoda speaks, I +may. But--can I trust her? I doubt it. Still, there is nothing else for +it. I _must_ trust her." + +Talking to himself in this incoherent way, Lucian reached his rooms and +tried to quiet the excitement of his brain caused by the strange words +of Rhoda. It was yet early in the afternoon, so he took up a book and +threw himself on the sofa to read for an hour, but he found it quite +impossible to fix his attention on the page. The case in which he was +concerned was far more exciting than any invention of the brain, and +after a vain attempt to banish it from his mind he jumped up and threw +the book aside. + +Although he did not know it, Lucian was suffering from a sharp attack of +detective fever, and the only means of curing such a disease is to learn +the secret which haunts the imagination. Rhoda, as she stated--rather +ambiguously, it must be confessed--could reveal this especial secret +touching the murder of Vrain; but, for some hidden reason, chose to +delay her confession for twenty-four hours. Lucian, all on fire with +curiosity, found himself unable to bear this suspense, so to distract +his mind and learn, if possible, the true relationship existing between +Ferruci and Jorce, he set out for Hampstead to interview the doctor. + +"The Haven," as Jorce, with some humour, termed his private asylum, was +a red brick house, large, handsome, and commodious, built in a wooded +and secluded part of Hampstead. It was surrounded by a high brick wall, +over which the trees of its park could be seen, and possessed a pair of +elaborate iron gates, opening on to a quiet country lane. Externally, it +looked merely the estate of a gentleman. + +The grounds were large, and well laid out in flower gardens and +orchards; and as it was Dr. Jorce's system to allow his least crazy +patients as much liberty as possible, they roamed at will round the +grounds, giving the place a cheerful and populated look. The more +violent inmates were, of course, secluded; but these were well and +kindly treated by the doctor. Indeed, Jorce was a very humane man, and +had a theory that more cures of the unhappy beings under his charge +could be effected by kindness than by severity. + +His asylum was more like a private hotel with paying guests than an +establishment for the retention of the insane, and even to an outside +observer the eccentricities of the doctor's family--as he loved to call +them--were not more marked than many of the oddities possessed by people +at large. Indeed, Jorce was in the habit of saying that "There were more +mad people in the world than were kept under lock and key," and in this +he was doubtless right. However, the kindly and judicious little man was +like a father to those under his charge, and very popular with them all. +Anything more unlike the popular conception of an asylum than the +establishment at Hampstead can scarcely be imagined. + +When Lucian arrived at "The Haven," he found that Jorce had long since +returned from his holiday, and was that day at home; so on sending in +his card he was at once admitted into the presence of the local +potentate. Jorce, looking smaller and more like a fairy changeling than +ever, was evidently pleased to see Lucian, but a look on his dry, yellow +face indicated that he was somewhat puzzled to account for the visit. +However, preliminary greetings having passed, Lucian did not leave him +long in doubt. + +"Dr. Jorce," he said boldly, and without preamble, "I have called to see +you about that alibi of Signor Ferruci's." + +"Alibi is a nasty word, Mr. Denzil," said Jorce, looking sharply at his +visitor. + +"Perhaps, but it is the only word that can be used with propriety." + +"But I thought that I was called on to decide a bet." + +"Oh, that was Count Ferruci's clever way of putting it," responded +Lucian, with a sneer. "He did not wish you to know too much about his +business." + +"H'm! Perhaps I know more than you think, Mr. Denzil." + +"What do you mean, sir?" cried Lucian sharply. + +"Softly, Mr. Denzil, softly," rejoined the doctor, waving his hand. "I +shall explain everything to your satisfaction. Do you know why I went to +Italy?" + +"No; no more than I know why you went with Signor Ferruci," replied +Lucian, recalling Link's communication. + +"Ah!" said Jorce placidly, "you have been making inquiries, I see. But +you are wrong in one particular. I did not go to Italy with Ferruci--I +left him in Paris, and I went on myself to Florence to find out the true +character of the man." + +"Why did you wish to do that, doctor?" + +"Because I had some business with our mutual friend, the Count, and I +was not altogether pleased with the way in which it was conducted. Also, +my last interview with you about that bet made me suspicious of the man. +Over in Florence I learned sufficient about the Count to assure me that +he is a bad man, with whom it is as well to have as little to do as +possible. I intended to return at once with this information and call on +you, Mr. Denzil. Unfortunately, I fell ill of an attack of typhoid fever +in Florence, and had to stay there these two months." + +"I am sorry," said Lucian, noting that the doctor did look ill, "but why +did you not send on your information to me?" + +"It was necessary to see you personally, Mr. Denzil. I arrived back a +few days ago, and intended writing to you when I recovered from the +fatigue of the journey. However, your arrival saves me the trouble. Now +I can tell you all about Ferruci, if you like." + +"Then tell me, Doctor, if you spoke truly about that alibi?" + +"Yes, I did. Count Ferruci was with me that night, and stayed here until +the next morning." + +"What time did he arrive?" + +"About ten o'clock, or, to be precise," said Jorce, "about ten-thirty." + +"Ah!" cried Lucian exultantly, "then Ferruci must have been the man in +the back yard!" + +"What do you mean by that?" asked Jorce in a puzzled tone. + +"Why, that Count Ferruci has had to do with a crime committed some +months ago in Pimlico. A man called Mark Vrain was murdered, as you may +have seen in the papers, Doctor, and I believe Ferruci murdered him." + +"If I remember rightly," said Jorce with calmness, "the man in question +was murdered shortly before midnight on Christmas Eve. If that is so, +Ferruci could not have killed him, because, as I said before, he was +here at half-past ten on that night." + +"I don't say he actually killed the man," explained Lucian eagerly, "but +he certainly employed some one to strike the blow, else what was he +doing in the Jersey Street yard on that night? You can say what you +like, Dr. Jorce, but that man is guilty of Mark Vrain's death." + +"No," replied Jorce coolly, "he's not, for the simple reason that Vrain +is not dead." + +"Not dead?" repeated Lucian, recalling Diana's belief. + +"No! For the last few months Mark Vrain, under the name of Michael +Clear, has been in this asylum!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A DARK PLOT + + +"So Vrain is alive, after all!" was Lucian's comment on the speech of +Jorce, "and he is here under your charge? Jove! it's wonderful! Diana +was right, after all!" + +"Diana? Who is Diana?" queried Jorce, then held up his hand to stop his +visitor from replying. "Wait! I know! Vrain mentioned his daughter +Diana." + +"Yes, she is the daughter of Vrain, and she believes her father to be +alive." + +"On what grounds?" + +"Because the dead man, whom, until lately, she believed to be Mr. Vrain, +had one of his little fingers missing. That fact came to her knowledge +only a week ago. When it did, she declared that the deceased could not +be her father." + +"H'm!" said Jorce thoughtfully, "I am quite in the dark as to why Mr. +Vrain was put under my charge." + +"Because Ferruci wished to marry his widow." + +"I see! Ferruci substituted another man for my patient and had him +killed." + +"Evidently," replied Lucian; "but I am almost as much in the dark as +you are, Dr. Jorce. Tell me how Vrain came to be placed here, and, +exchanging confidence for confidence, I'll let you know all I have +discovered since the death of the man in Geneva Square who called +himself Berwin." + +"That is a fair offer," replied Jorce, clearing his throat, "and one +which I willingly accept. I do not wish you to think that I am in league +with Signor Ferruci. What I did was done honestly. I am not afraid of +telling my story." + +"I am sure of that," said Lucian heartily. "I guessed that Ferruci had +not trusted you altogether, from the time he feigned that your evidence +was needed only to decide a bet." + +"Trust me!" echoed Jorce, with scorn. "He never trusted me at all. He is +too cunning for that. However, you shall hear." + +"I'm all attention, Doctor." + +"A week before last Christmas, Signor Ferruci called to see me, and +explained that he was interested in a gentleman called Michael Clear, +whom he had met some years before in Italy. Clear, he said, had been +most intimate with him, but later on had indulged so much in the morphia +habit that their friendship had terminated with high words. Afterwards, +Clear had returned to England, and Ferruci lost sight of him for some +months. Then he visited England, and one day found Clear in the street, +looking ill and wretched. The man had become a confirmed morphiamaniac, +and the habit had weakened his brain. The Count pitied the poor +creature, according to his own story, and took him to his home, the +whereabouts of which Clear was happily able to remember." + +"Where is the house?" asked Lucian, taking out his pocketbook. + +"Number 30, St. Bertha's Road, Bayswater," replied Jorce; and when the +barrister, for his private information, had made a note of the address, +he continued: "It then appeared that Clear was married. The wife told +Ferruci that she was afraid of her husband, who, in his fits of +drink--for he drank likewise--often threatened to kill her. They had +lost their money, and the poor woman was at her wit's end what to do. +Ferruci explained to me that out of friendship he was most anxious to +befriend Clear, and stated that Mrs. Clear wished to get her husband +cured. He proposed, therefore, to put Clear into my asylum, and pay on +behalf of the wife." + +"A very ingenious and plausible plan," said Lucian. "Well, Doctor, and +what did you say?" + +"I agreed, of course, provided the man was certified insane in the usual +way. Ferruci then departed, promising to bring Mrs. Clear to see me. He +brought her late on Christmas Eve, at ten--" + +"Ah!" interrupted Lucian, "did she wear a black gauze veil with velvet +spots?" + +"She did, Mr. Denzil. Have you met her?" + +"No, but I have heard of her. She was the woman who visited Wrent in +Jersey Street. No doubt Ferruci was waiting for her in the back yard." + +"Who is Wrent?" asked Jorce, looking puzzled. + +"Don't you know the name, Doctor?" + +"No." + +"Did Mrs. Clear never mention it?" + +"Never." + +"Nor Ferruci?" + +"No. I never heard the name before," replied Jorce complacently. + +"Strange!" said Denzil reflectively. "Yet Wrent seems to be at the +bottom of the whole plot. Well, never mind, just now. Please continue, +my dear Doctor. What did Mrs. Clear say?" + +"Oh, she repeated Ferruci's story, amplified in a feminine fashion. She +was afraid of Michael, who, when excited with morphia or drink, would +snatch up a knife to attempt her life. Twice she had disarmed him, and +now she was tired and frightened. She was willing for him to go into my +asylum since Count Ferruci had so kindly consented to bear the expense, +but she wished to give him one more chance. Then, as it was late, she +stayed here all night. So did the Count, and on Christmas Day they went +away." + +"When did they come back?" + +"About a fortnight later, and they brought with them the man they both +called Michael Clear." + +"What is he like?" + +"An old man with a white beard." + +"Is he mad?" asked Lucian bluntly. + +"He is not mad now, only weak in the head," replied Jorce +professionally, "but he was certainly mad when he arrived. The man's +brain is wrecked by morphia." + +"Not by drink?" + +"No; although it suited Mrs. Clear and Ferruci to say so. But Clear, as +I may call him, was very violent, and quite justified Mrs. Clear's +desire to sequester him. She told me that he often imagined himself to +be other people. Sometimes he would feign to be Napoleon; again the +Pope; so when he, a week after he was in the asylum, insisted that he +was Mark Vrain, I put it down to his delusion." + +"But how could you think he had come by the name, Doctor?" + +"My dear sir, at that time the papers were full of the case and its +mystery, and as we have a reading-room in this asylum, I fancied that +Clear had seen the accounts, and had, as a delusion, called himself +Vrain. Afterwards he fell into a kind of comatose state, and for weeks +said very little. He was most abject and frightened, and responded in a +timid sort of way to the name of Clear. Naturally this confirmed me in +my belief that his calling himself Vrain was a delusion. Then he grew +better, and one day told me that his name was Vrain. Of course, I did +not believe him. Still, he was so persistent about the matter that I +thought there might be something in it, and spoke to Ferruci." + +"What did he say?" + +"He denied that the man's name was anything but Clear. That the wife +and two doctors--for the poor soul had been duly certified as +insane--had put him into the asylum; and altogether persisted so +strongly in his original story that I thought it was absurd to put a +crazy man's delusion against a sane man's tale. Besides, everything +regarding the certificate and sequestrating of Clear had been quite +legal. Two doctors--and very rightly, too--had certified to the insanity +of the man; and his wife--as I then believed Mrs. Clear to be--had +consented to his detention." + +"What made you suspicious that there might be something wrong?" asked +Lucian eagerly. + +"My visit to meet you, at Ferruci's request, to prove the alibi," +responded Jorce. "I thought it was strange, and afterwards, when a +detective named Mr. Link, called, I thought it was stranger still." + +"But you did not see Link?" + +"No. I was in Italy then, but I heard of his visit. In Florence I heard +from a most accomplished gossip the whole story of Mr. Vrain's marriage +and the prior engagement of Mrs. Vrain to Ferruci. I guessed that there +might be some plot, but I could not quite understand how it was carried +out, save that Vrain--as I then began to believe Clear to be--had been +placed in my asylum under a false name. On my return I intended to see +you, when I was laid up in Florence with the fever. Now, however, that +we have met, tell me so much of the story as you know. Afterwards we +shall see Mr. Vrain." + +Lucian was willing enough to show his confidence in Jorce, the more so +as he needed his help. Forthwith he told him all he knew, from the time +he had met Michael Clear, _alias_ Mark Berwin, _alias_ Mark Vrain, in +Geneva Square, down to the moment he had presented himself for +information at the gates of "The Haven." Doctor Jorce listened with the +greatest attention, his little face puckered up into a grim smile, and +shook his head when the barrister ended his recital. + +"A bad world, Mr. Denzil, a bad world!" he said, rising. "Come with me, +and I'll take you to see my patient." + +"But what do you think of it all?" said Denzil, eager for some comment. + +"I'll tell you that," rejoined Jorce, "when you have heard the story of +Mr. Vrain." + +In a few minutes Lucian was led by his guide into a pleasant room, with +French windows opening on to a wide verandah, and a sunny lawn set round +with flowers. Books were arranged on shelves round the walls, newspapers +and magazines were on the table, and near the window, in a comfortable +chair, sat an old man with a volume in his hand. As Jorce entered he +stood up and shuffled forward with a senile smile of delight. +Evidently--and with reason, poor soul--he considered the doctor his very +good friend. + +"Well, well!" said the cheery Jorce, "and how are you to-day, Mr. +Vrain?" + +"I feel very well," replied Vrain in a soft, weak voice. "Who is this, +Doctor?" + +"A young friend of mine, Mr. Vrain. He wishes to hear your story." + +"Alas! alas!" sighed Vrain, his eyes filling with tears, "a sad story, +sir." + +The father of Diana was of middle height, with white hair, and a long +white beard which swept his chest. On his cheek Lucian saw the cicatrice +of which Diana had spoken, and mainly by which the dead man had been +falsely identified as Vrain. He was very like Clear in figure and +manner; but, of course, the resemblance in the face was not very close, +as Clear had been clean shaven, whereas the real Vrain wore a beard. The +eyes were dim and weak-looking, and altogether Lucian saw that Vrain was +not fitted to battle with the world in any way, and quite weak enough to +become the prey of villains, as had been his sad fate. + +"My name is Mark Vrain, young sir," said he, beginning his story without +further preamble. "I lived in Berwin Manor, Bath, with my wife Lydia, +but she treated me badly by letting another man love her, and I left +her. Oh, yes, sir, I left her. I went away to Salisbury, and was very +happy there with my books, but, alas! I took morph----" + +"Vrain!" said Jorce, holding up his finger, "no!" + +"Of course, of course," said the old man, with a watery smile, "I mean I +was very happy there. But Signor Ferruci, a black-hearted villain"--his +face grew dark as he mentioned the name--"found me out and made me come +with him to London. He kept me there for months, and then he brought me +here." + +"Kept you where, Mr. Vrain?" asked Lucian gently. + +The old man looked at him with a vacant eye. "I don't know," he said in +a dull voice. + +"You came here from Bayswater," hinted Jorce. + +"Yes, yes, Bayswater!" cried Vrain, growing excited. "I was there with a +woman they called my wife. She was not my wife! My wife is fair, this +woman was dark. Her name was Maud Clear: my wife's name is Lydia." + +"Did Mrs. Clear say you were her husband, Michael?" + +"Yes. She called me Michael Clear, and brought me to stay with the +doctor. But I am not Michael Clear!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE OTHER MAN'S WIFE + + +As soon as Lucian arrived back in his rooms he sat down at his desk and +wrote a long letter to Diana, giving a full account of his extraordinary +discovery of her father in Jorce's asylum, and advising her to come up +at once to London. + +When he posted this--which he did the same night--he sighed to think it +was not a love letter. He could have covered reams of paper with words +of passion and adoration; he could have poured out his whole soul at the +feet of his divinity, telling her of his love, his aspirations, his +hopes and fears. No doubt, from a common-sense view, the letter would +have been silly enough, but it would have relieved his mind and +completed his happiness of knowing that he loved and was beloved. + +But in place of writing thus, he was compelled by his promise to Diana +to pen a description of his late discovery, and interesting as the case +was now growing, he found it irksome to detail the incident of the +afternoon. He wished to be a lover, not a detective. + +So absent-minded and distraught was Lucian, that Miss Greeb, who had +long suspected something was wrong with him, spoke that very evening +about himself. She declared that Lucian was working too hard, that he +needed another rest, although he had just returned from the country, and +recommended a sleeping draught. Finally she produced a letter which had +just arrived, and as it was in a female hand, Miss Greeb watched its +effect on her admired lodger with the keen eyes of a jealous woman. When +she saw him flush and seize it eagerly, casting, meanwhile, an impatient +look on her to leave the room, she knew the truth at once, and retired +hurriedly to the kitchen, where she shed floods of tears. + +"I might have guessed it," gasped Miss Greeb to a comfortable cat which +lay selfishly before the fire. "He's far too good-looking not to be +snapped up. He'll be leaving me and setting up house with that other +woman. I only hope she'll do for him as well as I have done. I wonder if +she's beautiful and rich. Oh, how dreadful it all is!" But the cat made +no comment on this tearful address--not as much as a mew. It rolled over +into a warmer place and went to sleep again. Cats are particularly +selfish animals. + +Two days afterwards Miss Greeb opened the door to a tall and beautiful +lady, who asked for Mr. Denzil, and was shown into his sitting-room. +With keen instinct, Miss Greeb decided that this was the woman who had +taken possession of Lucian's heart, and being a just little creature, in +spite of her jealousy, was obliged to admit that the visitor was as +handsome as a picture. Then, seeing that there was no chance for her +beside this splendid lady, she consoled herself with a dismal little +proverb, and looked forward to the time when it would be necessary to +put a ticket in the parlour window. Meanwhile, to have some one on whose +bosom she could weep, Miss Greeb went round to see Mrs. Bensusan, +leaving Diana in possession of Lucian, and the cat sole occupant of the +kitchen. + +In the drawing-room, on the front floor, Diana, with her eyes shining +like two stars, was talking to Lucian. She had come up at once on +receipt of his letter; she had been to Hampstead, she had seen her +father, and now she was telling Lucian about the visit. + +"He knew me at once, poor dear," she said rapidly, "and asked me if I +had been out, just as if I'd left the house for a visit and come back. +Ah!"--she shook her head and sighed--"I am afraid he'll never be quite +himself again." + +"What does Jorce think?" + +"He says that father can be discharged as cured, and is going to see +about it for me. Of course, he will never be quite sane, but he will +never be violent so long as morphia and drugs of that sort are kept from +him. As soon as he is discharged I shall take him back to Bath, and put +him in charge of Miss Barbar; then I shall return to town, and we must +expose the whole conspiracy!" + +"Conspiracy?" + +"What else do you call it, Lucian? That woman and Ferruci have planned +and carried it out between them. They put my father into the asylum, and +made another man pass as him, in order to get the assurance money. As +their tool did not die quickly enough, they killed him." + +"No, Diana. Both Lydia and Ferruci have proved beyond all doubt that +they were not in Pimlico at the hour of the death. I believe they +contrived this conspiracy, but I don't believe they murdered Clear." + +"Well, we shall see what defence they make. But one thing is certain, +Lucian--Lydia will have to disgorge the assurance money." + +"Yes, she certainly will, and I've no doubt the Assurance Company will +prosecute her for fraud in obtaining it. I shall see Ferruci to-morrow +and force him to confess his putting your father in the asylum." + +"No!" said Diana, shaking her head. "Don't do that until you have more +evidence against him." + +"I think the evidence of Jorce is strong enough. I suppose you mean the +evidence of Mrs. Clear?" + +"Yes; although for her own sake I don't suppose she will speak." + +Lucian nodded. "I thought of that also," he said, "and yesterday I went +to St. Bertha Street, Bayswater, to see her. But I found that she had +moved, and no one knew where she was. I expect, having received her +price for the conspiracy, she has left London. However, I put an +advertisement in the papers, saying if she called on me here she would +hear of something to her advantage. It is in the papers this morning." + +"I doubt if she will call," said Diana seriously. "What about the +promised revelation of Rhoda?" + +"I believe that girl is deceiving me," cried Lucian angrily. "I went +round to Jersey Street, as she asked me, and only saw Mrs. Bensusan, who +said that Rhoda was out and would not be back for some time. Then I had +to wait for you here and tell you all about your father, so the thing +slipped my memory. I have not been near the place since, but I'll go +round there to-night. Whatever is Miss Greeb thinking of?" cried Lucian, +breaking off quickly. "That front door bell has been ringing for at +least five minutes!" + +To Diana's amusement, Lucian went and shouted down the stairs to Miss +Greeb, but as no reply came, and the bell was still ringing furiously, +he was obliged to open the door himself. On the step there stood a +little woman in a tailor-made brown frock, a plainly trimmed brown straw +hat with a black gauze velvet-spotted veil. At once Denzil guessed who +she was. + +"You are Mrs. Clear?" he said, delighted that she had replied so quickly +to his advertisement, for it had only that morning appeared in the +newspapers. + +"Yes, I am," answered the woman, in a quick, sharp voice. "Are you the +L. D. who advertised for me?" + +"Yes. Come upstairs. I have much to say to you." + +"Diana," said Lucian, on entering the room with his prize, "let me +introduce you to Mrs. Clear." + +"Mrs. Clear! Are you the wife of the man who was murdered in the house +opposite?" + +Mrs. Clear uttered a cry of astonishment, and turned as if to retreat. +But Denzil was between her and the door, so she saw that there was +nothing for it but to outface the situation. As though she found it +difficult to breathe, she threw up her veil, and Diana beheld a thin +white face with two brilliant black eyes. + +"This is a trap," said Mrs. Clear, hoarsely, looking from the one to the +other. "Who are you?" + +"I," said Lucian, politely, "I am the man who met your husband +before----" + +"My husband! I have my husband in an asylum. You can't have met him!" + +"You are telling a falsehood," said Diana fiercely. "The gentleman in +the asylum of Dr. Jorce is not your husband, but my father!" + +"Your father? And who are you?" + +"I am Diana Vrain." + +Mrs. Clear gave a screech, and dropped back on to the sofa, staring at +Diana with wide-open and terrified eyes. + +"And now, Mrs. Clear, I see you realise the situation," Lucian said +coldly. "You must confess your share in this conspiracy." + +"What conspiracy?" she interrupted furiously. + +"The putting of Mr. Vrain into an asylum, and the passing off of your +husband, Michael Clear, as him." + +"I don't know anything about it." + +"Come, now, you talk nonsense! If you refuse to speak I'll have you +arrested at once." + +"Arrest me!" She bounded off the sofa with flashing eyes. + +"Yes, on a charge of conspiracy. It is no use your getting angry, Mrs. +Clear, for it won't improve your position. We--that is, this lady and +myself--wish to know, firstly, how your husband came to be masquerading +as Mr. Vrain; secondly, where we can find the man called Wrent, who +employed your husband; and thirdly, Mrs. Clear, we wish to know, and the +law wishes to know, who killed your husband." + +"I don't know who killed him," said the woman, looking rather afraid, +"but I believe Wrent did." + +"Who is Wrent?" + +"I don't know." + +"You don't know many things," said Diana, taking part in the +conversation, "but you must tell us what you do know, otherwise I shall +call in a policeman and have you arrested." + +"You can't prove anything against me." + +"I think I can," said Lucian in the most cheerful manner. "I can prove +that you were in No. 13 of this Square, seeing your husband, for I found +on the fence dividing the back yard of that house from one in Jersey +Street a scrap of a veil such as you wear. Also the landlady and servant +can prove that you called on Mr. Wrent several times, and were with him +on the night of the murder. Then there is the evidence of your cloak, +which you left behind, and which Wrent gave to the servant Rhoda. Also +the evidence of Signor Ferruci----" + +"Ferruci! What has he said about me?" + +Lucian saw that revenge might make the woman speak, so he lied in the +calmest manner to get at the truth. "Ferruci says that he contrived the +whole conspiracy." + +"So he did," said Mrs. Clear, with a nod. + +"And took you to 'The Haven,' at Hampstead, on Christmas Eve." + +"That's true. He took me from Wrent's house in Jersey Street. You need +not go on, Mr. L. D. I admit the whole business." + +"You do?" cried Lucian and Diana together. + +"Yes, if only to spite that old villain Wrent, who has not paid me the +money he promised." + +Before Lucian and Miss Vrain could express their pleasure at Mrs. Clear +coming to this sensible conclusion, the door opened suddenly, and little +Miss Greeb, in a wonderful state of agitation, tripped in. + +"Oh, Mr. Denzil! I've just been to Mrs. Bensusan's, and Rhoda's run +away!" + +"Run away!" + +"Yes! She hasn't been back all day, and left a note for Mrs. Bensusan +saying she was going to hide, because she was afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +A CONFESSION + + +Now, indeed, Lucian had his hands full. Rhoda, the red-headed servant of +Mrs. Bensusan, had run away on the plea that she was afraid of +something--what she did not explain in the note she left behind her, and +it was necessary that she should be discovered, and forced into +confessing what she knew of the conspiracy and murder. Mrs. Clear, not +having been paid her hush money, had betrayed the confidence and +misdeeds of Ferruci, thereby revealing an extent of villainy for which +neither Diana nor Lucian was prepared. Now the Count had to be seen and +brought to book for his doings, Lydia informed that her husband was in +the asylum, and Vrain himself had to be released in due form from his +legal imprisonment. How Lucian, even with the assistance of Diana, could +deal with all these matters, he did not know. + +"Why not see Mr. Link?" suggested Diana, when Mrs. Clear had departed, +after making a clean breast of the nefarious transactions in which she +had been involved. "He may take the case in hand again." + +"No doubt," responded Denzil drily, "but I am not very keen to hand it +over to him, seeing that he has abandoned it twice. Again, if I call in +the police, it is all over with Lydia and the Count. They will be +arrested and punished." + +"For the murder of Clear?" + +"Perhaps, if it can be proved that they have anything to do with it; +certainly for the conspiracy to get the assurance money by the feigned +death of your father." + +"Well," said Diana coldly, "and why should they not receive the reward +of their deeds?" + +"Quite so; but the question is, do you wish any scandal?" + +Diana was silent. She had not looked at the matter from this point of +view. It was true what Lucian said. If the police took up the case +again, Lydia and her accomplice would be arrested, and the whole sordid +story of their doings would be in the papers. + +Diana was a proud woman, and winced at the idea of such publicity. It +would be as well to avoid proceeding to such extremities. If the +assurance money was returned by Lydia, she would be reduced to her +former estate, and by timely flight might escape the vengeance of the +defrauded company. After all, she was the wife of Vrain, and little as +Diana liked her, she did not wish to see the woman who was so closely +related to the wronged man put in prison; not for her own sake, but for +the sake of the name she so unworthily bore. + +"I leave it in your hands," said Diana to Lucian, who was watching her +closely. + +"Very good," replied Denzil. "Then I think it will be best for me to see +Ferruci first, and hear his confession; afterwards call on Mrs. Vrain, +and learn what she has to say. Then----" + +"Well," said Diana, curiously, "what then?" + +"I will be guided by circumstances. In the meantime, for the sake of +your name, we had better keep the matter as quiet as possible." + +"Mrs. Clear may speak out." + +"Mrs. Clear won't speak," said Denzil grimly. "She will keep quiet for +her own sake; and as Rhoda has left Jersey Street, there will be no +danger of trouble from that quarter. First, I'll see Lydia and the +Count, to get to the bottom of this conspiracy; then I'll set the police +on Rhoda's track, that she may be arrested and made to confess her +knowledge of the murder." + +"Do you think she knows anything?" + +"I think she knows everything," replied Lucian with emphasis. "That is +why she has run away. If we capture her, and force her to speak, we may +be able to arrest Wrent." + +"Why Wrent?" asked Diana. + +"Have you forgotten what Mrs. Clear said? I agree with her that he is +the assassin, although we can't prove it as yet." + +"But who is Wrent?" + +"Ah!" said Lucian, significantly, "that is just what I wish to find +out." + +The upshot of this interview was that early the next morning Denzil went +to the chambers of Ferruci, in Marquis Street, and informed the servant +that he wanted particularly to see the Count. + +At first the Italian, being still in bed--for he was a late riser--did +not incline to grant his visitor an interview; but on second thoughts he +ordered Lucian to be shown into the sitting-room, and shortly afterwards +joined him there wrapped in a dressing-gown. He welcomed the barrister +with a smiling nod, and having some instinct that Lucian came on an +unpleasant errand, he did not offer him his hand. From the first the two +men were on their guard against one another. + +"Good-morning, sir," said Ferruci in his best English. "May I ask why +you take me from my bed so early?" + +"To tell you a story." + +"About my friend Dr. Jorce saying I was with him on that night?" sneered +the Count. + +"Partly, and partly about a lady you know." + +Ferruci frowned. "You speak of Mrs. Vrain?" + +"No," replied Lucian coolly. "I speak of Mrs. Clear." + +At the mention of this name, which was the last one he expected to hear +his visitor pronounce, the Italian, in spite of his coolness and +cunning, could not forbear a start. + +"Mrs. Clear?" he repeated. "And what do you know of Mrs. Clear?" + +"As much as Dr. Jorce could tell me, Count." + +Ferruci's brow cleared. "Then you know I pay for keeping her miserable +husband with my friend," he said composedly. "It is for her sake I am so +kind." + +"Rather it is for your own you are so cunning." + +"Cunning! A most strange word for my goodness," said the Count coolly. + +"The most fit word, you mean," replied Lucian, impatient of this +fencing. "It is no use beating about the bush, Count. I know that the +man you keep in the asylum is not Clear, but Mark Vrain." + +"La! la! la! You talk great humbug. Mr. Vrain is dead and buried!" + +"He is not dead," answered Lucian resolutely, "and the man who was +buried under his name is Michael Clear, the husband of the woman who +told me all." + +Ferruci, who had been pacing impatiently up and down the room, stopped +short, with a nervous laugh. + +"This is most amusing," he said, with an emotion he could not conceal +despite his self-control. "Mrs. Clear told you all, eh? She told you +what, my friend?" + +"That is the story I have come to tell you," replied Lucian sharply. + +"Very good," said Ferruci, with a shrug. "I wait to hear this pretty +story," and with a frown he threw himself into a chair near Lucian. +Apparently he saw that he was found out, for it took him all his time to +keep his voice from trembling and his hands from shaking. The man was +not a coward, but being thus brought face to face with a peril he little +expected, it was scarcely to be wondered at that he felt shaken and +nervous. Moreover, he knew little about the English law, and hardly +guessed how his misdeeds would be punished. Still, he did not surrender +on the spot, but listened quietly to Lucian's story, in the hope of +seeing some way of escape from his awkward position. + +"The other day I went to Dr. Jorce's asylum," said Lucian slowly, "and +there I discovered--it matters not how--that your friend Clear was Mr. +Vrain; also I learned that he had been placed in the asylum by you and +Mrs. Clear. Jorce gave me her address in Bayswater, but when I went +there I could not find her; she had left. I then put an advertisement in +all the papers, stating that if she called on me she would hear of +something to her advantage. Now, Count, it appears that Mrs. Clear was +in the habit of looking into the papers to see if there was any message +from yourself, or your friend Wrent, so she saw my advertisement at +once, and came in person to reply to it." + +"One moment, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci politely. "I know no one called +Wrent, and he is not my friend." + +"We'll come to that hereafter," answered Lucian, with a shrug. "In the +meantime I'll proceed with my story, which I see interests you very +much. Well, Count, it seems that Michael Clear was an actor, who bore a +strong resemblance to Mr. Vrain, save that he had not a scar on his +face. Vrain, at Bath, was always clean shaven; now he wears a long white +beard, but that is neither here nor there. Clear had a moustache, but +when that was shaved off he looked exactly like Vrain. For purposes of +your own, which you can easily guess, you made the acquaintance of this +man, a profligate and a drunkard, and proposed, for a certain sum of +money to be paid to his wife, that he, Michael Clear, should personate +Vrain and live in the Silent House in Geneva Square, under the name of +Berwin. You knew that Clear was slowly dying of consumption and drink, +so you trusted that he would die as Vrain; that Mrs. Vrain--who I +believe is in the plot--would recognise the corpse by the description in +the newspapers; and that, when Clear was buried as Vrain, she would get +the assurance money and marry you." + +"That is clever," said the Count, with a sneer. + +"But is it true?" + +"You know best," answered Lucian, coolly. "However, all turned out as +you expected, for Clear died as Vrain--or rather was murdered at your +command, as he did not die quickly enough--his body was recognised by +Mrs. Vrain, buried as her husband, and she got the assurance money. The +only thing that remains for your conspiracy to be entirely successful is +that Mrs. Vrain should marry you; and--as I was told by Mr. Clyne--that +has pretty well been arranged." + +"Do you think, then, that Clyne would let his daughter marry a man who +has done all this?" said Ferruci, who was now very pale. + +"I don't believe Clyne knows anything about it," replied Lucian coldly. +"You and Mrs. Vrain made up this pretty plot between you. Vrain himself +told me how you decoyed him from Salisbury, and took him to Mrs. +Clear's, in Bayswater, where he passed as her husband, although, as she +confesses, she kept him as a kind of prisoner." + +"But this is wrong," cried Ferruci, trying to laugh. "This is most +foolish. How would a man, of his own will, pass as the husband of a +woman he knew not?" + +"A sane man would not; but none knew better than you, Count, that Vrain +was not sane, and that you dosed him with drugs, and let Mrs. Clear keep +him locked up in her house until you put him in the asylum. Vrain was a +puppet in your hands, and you locked him up in an asylum a fortnight +after the man who personated him was murdered. You intended to marry +Mrs. Vrain and keep her wretched husband in that asylum all his life." + +"The best place for a lunatic," said Ferruci. + +"Ah!" cried Lucian. "Then you admit that that Vrain was mad?" + +"I admit nothing, not even that he is alive. If what you say is true," +said the Italian, cunningly, "how came it that the murdered man had the +scar on his cheek? He might have been like Vrain, eh, but not so much." + +"Mrs. Clear explained that," replied Lucian quickly. "You made that +scar, Count, with vitriol, or some such stuff. You don't know chemistry +for nothing, I see." + +"I am quite ignorant of chemistry," said Ferruci sullenly. + +"Jorce heard a different story in Florence." + +"In Florence! Did Jorce ask about me there?" said the Count in alarm. + +"He did, and heard some strange tales, Count. Come, now, it is no use +your trying to evade this matter further. Jorce can prove that you put +Vrain into his asylum under the name of Clear. Miss Vrain can prove that +the so-called Clear is her father, and Mrs. Clear--who has turned +Queen's evidence--has exposed the whole of your conspiracy. The game's +up, Count." + +Ferruci sprang from his seat and began to walk hastily up and down the +room. He looked haggard and pale, and years older, as he recognised his +position, for he saw very plainly that he was trapped, and that nothing +remained to him but flight. But how to fly? He stopped opposite to +Lucian. + +"What do you intend to do?" he demanded in a hoarse voice. + +"Have you arrested, along with Mrs. Vrain," replied Lucian, making this +threat to force Ferruci into defending himself or confessing. + +"Mrs. Vrain is innocent--she knows nothing about this conspiracy, as you +call it. I planned the whole thing myself." + +"You admit, then, that the so-called Vrain was really Michael Clear?" + +"Yes. I got him to personate the man Vrain, so that I could get the +assurance money when I married Lydia. I chose Clear because he was like +Vrain. I made the scar on the cheek, and I thought he would die soon, +being consumptive." + +"And you killed him?" + +"No! No! I swear I did not kill him!" + +"Did you not take that stiletto from Berwin Manor?" + +"No! I never did! I am telling the truth! I do not know who killed +Clear." + +"Did you not visit Wrent in Jersey Street?" + +"Yes. I was the man Rhoda saw in the back yard. I was waiting for Mrs. +Clear, to take her to Hampstead; and in the meantime I thought I would +climb over the fence and see Clear. But the girl saw me, so I ran away, +and joined Mrs. Clear up the road. I was not aware at the time that the +woman who saw me was Rhoda. Afterwards I went to Hampstead with Mrs. +Clear, to see Jorce." + +"Did you buy the cloak?" + +"I did. That girl in Baxter & Co.'s told a lie for me. I was warned by +Mrs. Vrain that you had made questions about the cloak, so I went to the +girl and told her you were a jealous husband, and paid her to say it was +not I who bought the cloak. She did so, quite ignorant of the real +reason I wished her to deny knowing me." + +"Why did you buy the cloak?" asked Lucian, satisfied with this +explanation. + +"I bought it for Wrent. He asked me to buy it, but what he wanted it for +I do not know. He had it some days before Christmas, and, I believe, +gave it to Mrs. Clear, and afterwards to the girl Rhoda. But of this I +am not sure." + +"Who is Wrent?" asked Denzil, reserving the most important question for +the last. + +"Wrent?" said Ferruci, smiling in a sneering way. "Ah! you wish to know +who Wrent is? Well, excuse me for a few minutes, and I'll bring you +something to show who he is." + +With a nod to Lucian he passed into his bedroom, leaving the barrister +much astonished. He thought that Ferruci was Wrent himself, and had gone +away to resume the disguise of wig and beard. While he pondered thus the +Count reappeared, carrying a small bottle in his hand. + +"Mr. Denzil," said he, with a ghastly smile, "I have played a bold game, +and, thanks to a woman's treachery, I have lost. I hoped to get twenty +thousand pounds and a charming wife; but I have gained nothing but +poverty and a chance of imprisonment; but I am of noble birth, and I +will not survive my dishonour. You wish to know who Wrent is--you shall +never know." + +He raised the bottle to his lips before Lucian, motionless with horror, +could rush forward, and the next moment Count Ercole Ferruci was lying +dead on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN + + +That afternoon London was ringing with the news of Ferruci's suicide; +but no paper could give any reason for the rash act. This inability was +due to the police, who, anxious to capture those concerned in the +conspiracy to obtain the assurance money of the Sirius Company, kept +everything they could out of the papers, lest Lydia and Wrent should be +put on their guard, and so escape. + +Lucian had been forced to report the death of Ferruci to the +authorities. Now the case was out of his hands again, and in those of +Link, who blamed the young barrister severely for not having brought him +into the matter before. The detective was always more prone to blame +than to praise. + +"But what could I do?" cried Lucian angrily. "You threw up the case +twice! You said the assassin of Clear--or, as you thought, Vrain--would +never be discovered!" + +"I did my best, and failed," retorted Link, who did not like his +position. "You have had better luck and have succeeded." + +"My luck has been sheer hard work, Link. I was not so faint-hearted as +you, to draw back at the first check." + +"Well, well, the whole truth hasn't been discovered yet, Mr. Denzil. As +you have found out this conspiracy, I may learn who the assassin is." + +"We know that already. The assassin is Wrent." + +"You have yet to prove that." + +"I?" said Lucian, with disdain. "I prove nothing. I wash my hands of the +whole affair. You are a detective; let me see what you will make of a +case which has baffled you twice!" and Denzil, with rage in his heart, +went off, laughing at the discomfiture of Link. + +At that moment the detective hated his successful rival with his whole +heart. + +Lucian took a hansom to the Royal John Hotel in Kensington, where Diana, +in a great state of alarm, was reading the evening papers, which +contained short notices of Ferruci's death. On seeing her lover, she +hurried forward anxiously and caught him by the hand. + +"Lucian, I am so glad you have come!" she cried, leading him to a chair. +"I sent messages both to Geneva Square and Sergeant's Inn, but you were +neither at your lodgings nor in your office." + +"I was better employed, my dear," said Lucian, with a weary sigh, for he +was quite worn out with fatigue and anxiety. "I have been with Link, +telling him about Ferruci's death, and being blamed as the cause of +it." + +"You blamed! And why?" said Diana, with just indignation. + +"Because I forced Ferruci to confess the truth, and when he saw that +there was every chance of his being put into jail for his villainy, he +went to his bedroom and took poison. You know, Mrs. Clear said the man +was something of a chemist, so I suppose he prepared the poison himself. +It was very swift in its action, for he dropped dead before I could +recover my presence of mind." + +"Lucian! this is terrible!" cried Diana, wringing her hands. + +"You may well say that," he replied gloomily. "Now the whole details of +the case will be in the papers, and that unfortunate woman will be +arrested." + +"Lydia! And what will her father say? It will break his heart!" + +"Perhaps; but he must take the consequences of having brought up his +daughter so badly. Still," added Lucian, reflectively, "I do not believe +that Lydia is so guilty as Wrent. That scoundrel seems to be at the +bottom of the affair. Ferruci and he contrived and carried out the whole +thing between them, and a precious pair of villains they are." + +"Will Wrent be arrested?" + +"If he can be found; but I fancy the scoundrel has made himself scarce +out of fright. Since he left Jersey Street, after the murder, he has not +been heard of. Even Mrs. Clear does not know where he is. You know she +has put advertisements in the papers in the cypher he gave +her--according to the arrangement between them--but Wrent has not turned +up." + +"And Rhoda?" + +"Rhoda is still missing. The police are getting warrants out for the +servant, for Wrent, for Mrs. Clear, and for Lydia Vrain. Ferruci, +luckily for himself and his family, has escaped the law by his own act. +It was the wisest thing the scoundrel could do to kill himself and avoid +dishonour. I must admit the man had pluck." + +"It is terrible! terrible! What will be the end of it?" + +"Imprisonment for the lot, I expect, unless they can prove that Wrent +murdered Clear; then they will hang him. But now that Ferruci is dead, I +fancy Rhoda is the only witness who can prove Wrent's guilt. That is why +she ran away. I don't wonder she was afraid to stay. But I feel quite +worn out with all this, Diana. Please give me a biscuit and a glass of +port; I have had nothing all day." + +With a sigh, Diana touched the bell, and when the waiter made his +appearance gave the order. She felt low-spirited and nervous, in spite +of the discovery that her father was alive and well; and indeed the +extraordinary events of the last few days were sufficient to upset the +strongest mind. + +Lucian was leaning back in his chair with closed eyes, for his head was +aching with the excitement of the morning. Suddenly he opened them and +jumped up. At the same time Diana threw open the door with an +exclamation, and both of them heard the thin, high voice of a woman, who +apparently was coming up the stairs. + +"Never mind my name," said the voice, "I'll tell it to Miss Vrain +myself. Take me to her at once." + +"Lydia!" called Lucian, "and here? Great heavens! Why does she come +here?" + +Diana said nothing, but compressed her lips as Lydia, followed by the +waiter with the biscuits and wine, came into the room. She was plainly +and neatly dressed, and wore a heavy veil, but seemed greatly excited. +She did not say a word, nor did Diana, until the waiter left the room +and closed the door. Then she threw up her veil, revealing a haggard +face and red eyes, swollen with weeping, and filled with an expression +of terror. + +"Sakes alive! isn't this awful?" she wailed, making a clutch at Miss +Vrain's arm. "You've done it, this time, Diana. Ferruci's dead, and your +father alive, and I'm not a widow, and my father away I don't know +where! I was told that the police were after me, so I'm clearing out." + +"Clearing out, Mrs. Vrain?" repeated Diana, stiffly. + +"I should think so!" sobbed Lydia. "I don't want to stay and be put in +gaol, though what I've done to be put in gaol for, I don't know." + +"What?" cried Lucian indignantly. "You don't know--when this abominable +conspiracy is----" + +"I know nothing of the conspiracy," interrupted Lydia. + +"Did you not get Ferruci to put your husband into an asylum?" + +"I? I did nothing of the sort. I thought my husband was dead and buried +until Ferruci told me the truth, and then I held my tongue until I could +think of what to do. After Ercole died, his servant came round and told +me all--he overheard the conversation you had with the Count, Mr. +Denzil. I was never so astonished in my life as to hear about Mrs. Clear +and her husband--and Mark alive--and--and--oh, Lord! isn't it dreadful? +Give me a glass of wine, Diana, or I'll go right off in a dead faint!" + +In silence Miss Vrain poured out a glass of port and handed it to her +stepmother, who sipped it in a most tearful mood. Lucian looked at the +wretched little woman without saying a word, and wondered if, indeed, +she was as innocent as she made herself out to be. He thought that, +after all, she might be ignorant of Ferruci's plots, although she had +certainly benefited by them; but she was such a glib liar that he did +not know how much to believe of her story. However, she had hitherto +only given a general idea of her connection with the matter, so when she +had finished her wine, and was somewhat calmer, Lucian begged her to be +more explicit. + +"Did you know--did you guess, or even suspect--that your husband was +alive?" + +"Mr. Denzil," said Lydia, with unusual solemnity, "as I'm a married +woman, and not the widow I thought I was, I did not know that Mark was +alive! I'm bad, I daresay, but I am not bad enough to shut a man up in a +lunatic asylum and pretend he is dead, just to get money, much as I like +it. What I did about identifying the corpse was done in good faith." + +"You really thought it was my father's body?" questioned Diana +doubtfully. + +"I swear I did," responded Mrs. Vrain, emphatically. "Mark walked out of +the house because he thought I was carrying on with Ferruci, which I +wasn't. It was that Tyler cat who made the trouble between us, and Mark +was so weak and silly--half crazy, I think, with his morphia and +over-study--that he cleared right out, and I never knew where he had +gone to. When I saw that notice about the murdered man in Geneva Square, +who called himself Berwin, and was marked on the cheek, I thought he +might be my husband. When the coffin was opened, I really believed I saw +poor Mark's dead body. The face was just like his, and scarred in the +same way." + +"What about the missing finger, Mrs. Vrain? If I remember, you even gave +a cause for its loss." + +"Well, it was this way," replied Lydia, somewhat discomposed. "I knew +that Mark hadn't lost a finger when he left, but Ferruci said that if I +denied it the police might refuse to believe that the body was that of +my husband. So, as I was sure it was Mark's corpse, I just said he had +lost a finger out West. I didn't think there was any harm in saying so, +as for all I knew he might have got it chopped off after leaving me. But +the face of the dead man was--as I thought--Mark's, and he called +himself Berwin, which, you know, Diana, is the name of the Manor, and +the scar was on the cheek. I know now it was all contrived by Ercole; +but then I was quite ignorant." + +"When did you find out the truth?" + +"After that cloak business. Ferruci came to me, and I told him what that +girl at Baxter's had said, and insisted that he should tell me the +truth. Well, he did, in order to force me to marry him, and then I told +him to go and make it right with the girl, so that when Mr. Denzil went +again she'd deny that Ercole had bought the cloak." + +"She denied it, sure enough," said Lucian grimly. "Ferruci, before he +died, told me he had bribed her to speak falsely. What more did the +Count reveal to you, Mrs. Vrain?--the conspiracy?" + +"Yes. He said he'd found Mark hiding at Salisbury, half mad with +morphia, and had taken him up to Mrs. Clear's, where it seems he went +mad altogether, so they locked him up as her husband in a lunatic +asylum. Ferruci also told me that he had seen Michael Clear on the +stage, and that as he was so like Mark, and was likely to die of drink +and consumption, he got him to play the part of Mark in Geneva Square, +under the name of Berwin. Mrs. Clear visited her husband there by +climbing over a back fence, and getting down a cellar, somehow." + +"I know that," said Lucian. "It was Mrs. Clear's shadow I saw on the +blind. She was fighting with her husband, and when I rang the bell they +were both so alarmed that they left the house by the back way and got +into Jersey Street. Then Mrs. Clear went home, and the man himself came +round into the Square by the front way. That was how I met him. I +wondered how people were in the house during his absence. Mrs. Clear +told me all." + +"Did she say why her husband made you examine the house?" asked Diana. + +"No. But I expect he made me do so that I should not have my suspicions +about that back entrance. But, Mrs. Vrain, when Ferruci confessed that +your husband was alive, why did you not tell it to the world?" + +"Well, I'd got the assurance money, you see," said Lydia, with shrewd +candour, "and I thought the company would make a fuss and take it +back--as I suppose they will now. Ferruci wanted me to marry him, but I +wasn't so bad as that. I did not want to commit bigamy. But I really +held my tongue because Ferruci told me who killed Clear." + +"He knew, then?" cried Lucian, "and denied it to me! Who killed the +man?" + +"Wrent did--the man who lived in Jersey Street." + +"And who is at the bottom of the whole plot!" said Lucian furiously. +"Do you know where he is to be found?" + +"Yes," said Lydia boldly, "I do; but I'm not going to tell where he is!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because I don't want him punished." + +"But I do," said Diana angrily. "He is a wretch who ought to suffer!" + +"Very well," said Lydia, loudly and spitefully, "then make him suffer, +for this Wrent is your own father! It was Mark who killed Michael +Clear!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +LINK SETS A TRAP + + +In the course of their acquaintance, Diana had put up with a great deal +from the little American adventuress, owing to her position of +stepmother, but when she heard her accusing the man she had ruined of +murder, the patience of Miss Vrain gave way. She rose quickly, and +walking over to where Lydia was shrinking in her chair, towered in +righteous indignation above the shameless little woman. + +"You lie, Mrs. Vrain!" she said in a low, distinct voice, with a flushed +face and indignation in her eyes. "You know you lie!" + +"I--I only repeat what Ferruci told me," whimpered Lydia, rather alarmed +by the attitude of her stepdaughter. "I'm sure I hope Mark didn't kill +the man, but Ercole said that he was in Jersey Street for that purpose." + +"It is not true! My father was in the asylum at Hampstead!" + +"Indeed he wasn't--not at the time Clear was killed!" protested Lydia. +"He was not put into the asylum until at least two weeks after +Christmas. Is that not so, Mr. Denzil?" + +"It is so," assented Lucian gravely, "but even admitting so much, it is +impossible to believe that Mr. Vrain was in Jersey Street. For many +months before Christmas he was in charge of Mrs. Clear, at Bayswater." + +"So Ercole said," replied Lydia, "but he used to get away from Mrs. +Clear at times, and had to be brought back." + +"He wandered when he got the chance," said Lucian, with hesitation. "I +admit as much." + +"Well, then, when he was not at Bayswater he used to live in Jersey +Street as Wrent. Ferruci found him out there, and tried to get him to go +back, and he took Mrs. Clear several times to the same place in order to +persuade him to return to Bayswater. That was why Mrs. Clear visited +Jersey Street. Oh, Mark played his part there as Mr. Wrent, I guess; +there ain't no two questions about that," finished Lydia triumphantly. +"He is the assassin, you bet!" + +"I don't believe it!" cried Diana furiously. "Why, my father is too weak +in the head to have the will, let alone the courage, to masquerade like +that. He is like a child in leading-strings." + +"That's his cunning, Diana. He's 'cute enough to pretend madness, so +that he won't be hanged!" + +"It is impossible that Vrain can be Wrent," said Lucian decidedly. "I +agree with Miss Vrain; he is too weak and irresponsible to carry out +such a deed. Besides, I don't see how you prove him guilty of the +murder; you do not even know that he could enter the Silent House by the +secret way." + +"I don't know anything about it, except what Count Ferruci told me," +said Lydia obstinately. "And he said that Vrain, as Wrent, killed Clear. +But you can easily prove if it's true or not." + +"How can we prove it?" asked Diana coldly. + +"By laying a trap for Mark. You know--at least Ercole told me, and I +suppose Mrs. Clear told you--that she corresponded with Mark--Wrent, I +mean--in the agony column of the _Daily Telegraph_. + +"By means of a cypher? Yes, I know that, but she hasn't received any +answer yet." + +"Of course not," replied Lydia, with triumph, "because Wrent--that's +Mark, you know--is in the asylum, and can't answer her." + +"This is all nonsense!" broke in Lucian, impatient of this cobweb +spinning. "I don't believe a word of Ferruci's story. If Vrain lived in +Jersey Street as Wrent, why should Mrs. Clear visit him?" + +"To get him back to Bayswater." + +"Nonsense! nonsense! And even admitting as much, why should Mrs. Clear, +in the newspapers, correspond in cypher with a man whom she not only +knows is in an asylum as her husband, but who can be seen by her at any +time?" + +"I quite agree with you, Lucian," cried Diana emphatically. "Count +Ferruci told a pack of falsehoods to Mrs. Vrain! The thing is utterly +absurd!" + +"Oh, I guess I'm not so easily made a fool of as all that!" cried Lydia, +firing up. "If you don't believe me, lay the trap I told you of. Let +Mark go free out of the asylum; get Mrs. Clear, with her cypher and +newspapers, to ask him to meet her in the house where Clear was +murdered, and then you'll see if Mark won't turn up in his character of +Wrent." + +"He will not!" cried Diana vehemently. "He will not!" + +"Mark, when he left me," went on the angry Lydia, "had plenty of hair, +and was clean shaven. Now--as Ferruci told me, for I haven't seen +him--he is bald, and wears a skull-cap of black velvet, and a white +beard. After Ercole told me about Jersey Street I went there to ask that +fat woman about Mark; she said he had gone away two days after +Christmas, and described him as an old man with a skull-cap and a white +beard." + +"Oh!" cried Lucian, for he recollected that Rhoda gave the same +description. + +"Ah! you know I speak the truth!" said Lydia, rising, "but I've had +enough of all this. I've lost my money, and I don't suppose I'll go back +to Mark. I've been treated badly all round, and I don't know what poppa +will say. But I'm going out of London to meet him." + +"You said you did not know where your father was!" cried Diana +scornfully. + +"I don't tell you everything, Diana," retorted Lydia, looking very +wicked, "but, if you must know, poppa went over to Paris last week, and +I'm going over there to meet him. He'll raise Cain for the way I've been +treated." + +"Well," said Lucian, as she prepared to take her leave, "I hope you'll +get away." + +"Do you intend to stop me, Mr. Denzil?" flashed out Mrs. Vrain, +furiously. + +"Not I; but I'll give you a hint--the railway stations will be watched +by the police." + +"For me?" said Lydia, with a scared expression. "Oh, sakes! it's awful! +and I've done nothing. It's not my fault if I got the assurance money. I +really thought that Mark was dead. But I'll try and get away to poppa; +he'll put things right. Good-bye, Mr. Denzil, and Diana; you've done me +a heap of harm, but I don't bear malice," and Mrs. Vrain rushed out of +the room in a great hurry to escape the chance of arrest hinted at by +Lucian. She had a sharp eye to her own safety. + +Diana waited until the cab which Lydia had kept waiting was driving +away, and then turned with an anxious expression on her face to look at +Lucian. "My dear," she said, taking his arm, "what do you think of +Lydia's accusation?" + +"Against your father?" said Lucian. "Why, I don't believe it!" + +"Nor do I; but it will be as well to set the trap she suggests; for if +my father does not fall into it--and as he is not Wrent, I don't believe +he will--the real man may keep the appointment with Mrs. Clear." + +"Whosoever Wrent is, I don't think he'll come again to the Silent +House," replied the barrister, shaking his head. "It would be thrusting +his head into the lion's jaws. If he is in London he'll see the death +of Ferruci described in the papers, and no doubt will guess that the +game is up; so he'll keep away." + +"Nevertheless, we'll do as Lydia suggests," said Diana obstinately. "You +see Mr. Link and Mrs. Clear, and arrange about the cypher. Then my +father is to be discharged as cured to-morrow, and I'll let him go out +if he pleases. Of course, I'll follow him; then I'll be able to see if +he goes to Pimlico." + +"But, Diana, suppose he does go to the Silent House, and proves to be +Wrent?" + +"He won't do that, my dear. My father is no more Wrent than you are. I +believe Lydia speaks in the full belief that he is; but Ferruci, for his +own ends, lied to her. However, to trap the real man, let us do as Lydia +suggests. The idea is a good one." + +"Well, we'll try," said Lucian, with a sigh. "But I do hope, Diana, that +this case will end soon. Every week there is some fresh development in a +new direction, and I am getting quite bewildered over it." + +"It will end with the capture of Wrent, the assassin." + +"I hope so; and God grant Wrent does not prove to be your father!" + +"There is no fear of that," said Diana gravely. "My father is insane +more or less, but he is not a murderer. I am quite content to risk the +trap suggested by that woman." + +Lucian did not at once adopt the plan to net Wrent--whosoever he might +be--invented by Lydia, and approved of by Diana. On the whole, he could +not bring himself to believe that a weak-headed, foolish old creature +like Vrain had masqueraded in Jersey Street as Wrent. Still there were +certain suspicious incidents which fitted in very neatly with Ferruci's +story. Mrs. Clear had stated that Vrain, when under her charge, escaped +several times, and had remained away for several days, until brought +back again by the Count. Again, the appearance of Wrent, as described by +Rhoda, was precisely the same as the looks of Vrain when Lucian saw him +in the Hampstead asylum; so it seemed that there might be some truth in +the story. + +"But it's impossible!" said Lucian to himself. "Vrain is half mad and +incapable of conducting his own life, or arranging so cleverly to commit +a crime. Also he had no money, and, had he lived in Jersey Street, would +not have been able to pay Mrs. Bensusan. There is something more in the +coincidence of this similarity of looks than meets the eye. I'll see +Link and hear what he has to say on the subject. It's time he found out +something." + +The next day Lucian paid a visit to Link, but was not received very +amiably by that gentleman, who proved to be in a somewhat bad temper. He +was not altogether pleased with Lucian finding out more about the case +than he had discovered himself, and also--to further ruffle his +temper--the clever Lydia had given him the slip. He had called at her +Mayfair house with a warrant for her arrest, only to find out +that--having received timely warning from Ferruci's servant--she had +fled. In vain the railway stations had been watched. Lydia, taking the +hint given to her by Lucian, had baffled that peril by taking the Dover +train at a station outside London. + +Lucian heard what Link had to say on the subject, but did not reveal the +fact that Lydia had paid a visit to Diana, or had gone to meet her +father at Dover. He did not want to give the little woman up to justice, +as he was beginning to believe her innocent; and that, in all truth, she +had known nothing of the Ferruci-Wrent conspiracy. + +Therefore, giving no information to Link as to the little woman's +whereabouts, Denzil told--as coming from himself--his idea that Wrent +might fall into a trap set for him in the Pimlico House by means of Mrs. +Clear's cypher. Link listened to the tale attentively, and decided to +adopt the idea. + +"It is a good one," he admitted generously, "and I'm not jealous enough +to cut off my nose to spite my face. You have had the better of me all +through this case, Mr. Denzil, and we have had words over it; but I'll +show you that I can appreciate your cleverness by adopting your plan." + +"I am greatly obliged to you for your good opinion," said Lucian drily, +for he saw with some humour that Link was only too anxious to benefit by +the very cleverness of which he pretended to be so jealous. "And you +will see Mrs. Clear?" + +"Yes; I'll see her at once, and get her to invite Wrent to Pimlico by +that cypher, with a threat that she will betray the whole plot if he +does not come." + +"I daresay he knows already that Mrs. Clear is a traitress?" + +"Impossible!" replied Link quickly. "I have kept Mrs. Clear's name out +of the papers. It is known that Ferruci is dead, and that Mrs. Vrain is +likely to be arrested in connection with her supposed husband's murder. +But the fact of Mrs. Clear putting the real Vrain into the asylum is not +known, nor, indeed, anything about the woman. If Wrent thinks she'll +tell tales, he'll meet her in their own hunting grounds in Geneva +Square, to make his terms. Hitherto he has not replied to her requests +for money, but now he'll think she is driven into a corner, and will fix +her up once and for all." + +"Do you think that Wrent is Vrain?" + +"Good Lord! no!" replied Link, staring. "What put that into your head?" + +Lucian immediately told about the supposed connection between Vrain and +Wrent, but, suppressing that it was Lydia's or Ferruci's idea, based his +supposition on the fact of the resemblance between the two men. Link +heard the theory with scorn, and scouted the idea that the two men could +be one and the same. + +"I've seen Vrain," said he. "The old man is as mad as a March hare and +as silly as a child. He's in his dotage, and could not possibly carry +out such a plan. But we can easily learn the truth." + +"From whom?" asked Lucian. + +"Ah, Mr. Denzil, you are not so clever as you think yourself," scoffed +Link. "Why, from Mrs. Clear, to be sure. She visited at Jersey Street, +and saw Wrent, and as Vrain was then with her in the character of her +husband, she'll be able to tell us if they are two men or one person." + +"You are right, Link. I never thought of that." + +"He! he! Then I can still teach you something," replied Link, in high +good humour at having for once scored off the too clever barrister, and +forthwith went off to see Mrs. Clear. + +How this interview with that lady sped, or what she told him, he refused +to reveal to Lucian; but its result was that a cypher appeared in the +agony column of the _Daily Telegraph_, calling upon Wrent to meet her in +the Silent House in Pimlico, under the penalty of her telling the police +all she knew if he did not come. In the same issue of the paper in which +this message appeared there was a paragraph stating that Mrs. Vrain had +been arrested at Dover. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +WHO FELL INTO THE TRAP? + + +However closely one may study the fair sex, there is no understanding +them in the least. No one can say how a woman will act in a given +situation; for feminine actions are based less on logical foundations +than on the emotion of the moment. + +Diana had never liked Lydia; when the American girl became her +stepmother she hated her, and not only said as much but showed in her +every action that she believed what she said. She declared that she +would be glad to see Lydia deprived of her money and put into jail! The +punishment would be no more than she deserved. + +Yet when these things came to pass; when, by the discovery that Vrain +yet lived, Lydia lost her liberty; and when, as connected with the +conspiracy, she was arrested on a criminal warrant and put into prison, +Diana was the only friend she had. Miss Vrain declared that her +stepmother was innocent, visited her in prison, and engaged a lawyer to +defend her. Lucian could not forbear pointing out the discrepancy +between Diana's past sentiments and her present actions; but Miss Vrain +was quite ready with an excuse. + +"I am only doing my duty," she said. "In herself I like Lydia as little +as ever I did, but I think we have suspected her wrongly in being +connected with this conspiracy, so I wish to help her if possible. And +after all," added Diana, "she is my father's wife," as if that fact +extenuated all. + +"He has reason to know it," replied Lucian bitterly. "If it had not been +for Lydia, your father would not have left his home for a lunatic +asylum, nor would Clear have been murdered." + +"I quite agree with you, Lucian; but some good has come out of this +evil, for if things had not been as they are, you and I would never have +met." + +"Egad! that is true!" said Lucian, kissing her. "It's an ill wind that +blows nobody any good." + +So Diana played the part of a Good Samaritan towards her stepmother, and +helped her to bear the evil of being thrust into prison. Lydia wrote to +her father in Paris, but received no reply, and therefore was without a +friend in the world save Diana. Later on she was admitted to bail, and +Diana took her to the hotel in Kensington, there to wait for the arrival +of Mr. Clyne. His absence and silence were both unaccountable. + +"I hope nothing is wrong with poppa," wept Lydia. "As a rule, he is +always smart in replying, and if he has seen about Ercole's death and my +imprisonment in the papers, I'm sure he will be over soon." + +While she was thus waiting for her father, and Link in every way was +seeking evidence against her, Mrs. Clear received an answer to her +message. In the same column of the _Daily Telegraph_, and in the same +cypher, there appeared a message from Wrent that he would meet Mrs. +Clear at No. 13 Geneva Square. + +Link was delighted when Mrs. Clear showed him this, and rubbed his hands +with much pleasure. Affairs were about to be brought to a crisis, and as +Link was the moving spirit in the matter, his vanity was sufficiently +gratified as to make him quite amiable. + +"We've got him this time, Mr. Denzil," he said, with enthusiasm. "You +and I and a couple of policemen will go down to that house in Geneva +Square--by the front, sir, by the front." + +"Mrs. Clear, also?" questioned Lucian, wishing to be enlightened on all +points. + +"No. She'll come in by the back, down the cellarway, as Wrent expects +her to come. Then he'll follow in the same path and walk right into the +trap." + +"But won't the two be seen climbing over that fence in the daytime?" +asked the barrister doubtfully. + +"Who said anything about the daytime, Mr. Denzil? I did not, and Wrent +knows too much to risk himself at a time that he can be seen from the +windows of the adjacent houses. No! no! The meeting with Mrs. Clear is +to take place in the front room at ten o'clock, when it will be quite +dark. You, I, and the policemen will hide in what was the bedroom, and +listen to what Wrent has to say to Mrs. Clear. We'll give him rope +enough to hang himself, sir, and then pounce out and nab him." + +"Well, he won't show much fight if he is Mr. Vrain." + +"I don't believe he is Mr. Vrain," retorted the detective bluntly. + +"I am doubtful of that, also," admitted Lucian, "but you know Vrain is +now out of the asylum, and, for the time being, has been left to his own +devices. The reply to the cypher did not appear until he was in that +position. Supposing, after all, this mysterious Wrent proves to be this +unhappy man?" + +"In that case, he'll have to pay for his whistle, sir." + +"You mean in connection with the conspiracy?" + +"Yes, and perhaps with the murder of Clear; but we don't know if the +so-called Wrent committed the crime. For such reason, Mr. Denzil, I wish +to overhear what he says to Mrs. Clear. It is as well to give him enough +rope to hang himself with." + +"Can you trust Mrs. Clear?" + +"Absolutely. She knows on which side her bread is buttered. Her only +chance of getting free from her share of the matter is to turn Queen's +evidence, and she intends to do so." + +"What did she say about Vrain being Wrent?" + +"Well, sir," said Link, putting his head on one side, and looking at +Lucian with an odd expression, "you had better wait till the man's +caught before I answer that question. Then, maybe, you won't require an +answer." + +"It is very probable I won't," replied Lucian drily. "What time am I to +see you to-night?" + +"I'll call for you at nine o'clock sharp, and we'll go across to the +house at once. I have the key in my pocket now. Peacock gave it to me +this morning. The scene will be quite dramatic." + +"I hope it won't prove to be Vrain," said Lucian restlessly, for he +thought how grieved Diana would be. + +"I hope not," answered Link curtly, "but there's no knowing. However, if +the old man does get into trouble he can plead insanity. His having been +in the asylum of Jorce is a strong card for him to play. Good-day, Mr. +Denzil. I'll see you to-night at nine o'clock sharp." + +"Good-day," replied Lucian, and the pair parted for the time being. + +Lucian did not go near Diana that day. In the first place, he did not +wish to see Lydia, for whom he had no great love; and in the second, he +was afraid to speak to Diana as to the possibility of her father being +Wrent. + +Diana, as a good daughter should, held firmly to the idea that her +father could not behave in such a way; and as a sensible woman, she did +not think that a man with so few of his senses about him could have +acted the dual part with which he was credited without, in some measure, +betraying himself. + +Lucian was somewhat of this opinion himself, yet he had an uneasy +feeling that Vrain might prove to be the culprit. The fact of Vrain's +being often away from Mrs. Clear's house in Bayswater, and Wrent absent +in the same way from Mrs. Bensusan's house in Jersey Street, appeared +strange, and argued a connection between the two. Again, the resemblance +between them was most extraordinary and unaccountable. + +On the whole, Lucian was not satisfied in his mind as to what would be +the end of the matter, and had he known Mrs. Clear's address he would +have gone to question her about it. But only Link knew where the woman +was to be found, and kept that information to himself--especially from +Denzil. Now that he had the reins once more in his hands, he did not +intend that the barrister should take them again. + +Punctual to the minute, Link, in a state of subdued excitement, came to +Lucian's rooms. Already he had sent his two policemen over to the house, +into which he had instructed them to enter in the quietest and most +unostentatious manner, and now came to escort the barrister across. + +Lucian put on his hat at once, and the two walked out into the dark +night, for dark it was, with no moon, few stars, and a great many +clouds. A most satisfactory night for their purpose. + +"All the better," said Link, casting a look round the deserted square; +"all the better for our little game. I wish to secure this fellow as +quietly as possible. Here's the door open--in with you, Mr. Denzil!" + +According to instructions, a policeman had waited behind the closed +door, and at the one sharp knock of his superior opened it at once so +that the two slipped in as speedily as possible. Link had a +dark-lantern, which he used carefully, so that no light could be seen +from the window looking on to the square; and with his three companions +he went into the back room which had formerly been used by Clear as a +sleeping apartment. Here the two policemen stationed themselves in one +corner; and Link, with Lucian, waited near the door leading into the +sitting-room, so as to be ready for Mrs. Clear. + +All was so dark and lonely and silent that Lucian's nerves became +over-strained, and it was as much as he could do to prevent himself from +trembling violently. In a whisper he conversed with Link. + +"Have you heard anything of that girl Rhoda?" he asked. + +"We have traced her to Berkshire," whispered Link. "She went back to her +gypsy kinsfolk, you know. I dare say we'll manage to lay hands on her +sooner or later." + +"She is an accomplice of Wrent's, I believe." + +"So do I, and I hope to make him confess as much to-night. Hush!" + +Suddenly Link had laid his clasp on Lucian's wrist to command silence, +and the next moment they heard the swish-swish of a woman's dress +coming along the passage. She entered the sitting-room cautiously, +moving slowly in the darkness, and stole up to the door behind which +Lucian and the detective were hiding. The position of this she knew +well, because it was opposite the window. + +"Are you there?" whispered Mrs. Clear nervously. + +"Yes," replied Link in the same tone. "Myself, Mr. Denzil, and two +policemen. Keep the man in talk, and find out, if possible, if he +committed the murder." + +"I hope he won't kill me," muttered Mrs. Clear. "He will, if he knows +I've betrayed him." + +"That will be all right," said Link in a low, impatient voice. "We will +rush out should he prove dangerous. Get over by the window, so that we +can see a little of you and Wrent when you talk." + +"No! no! Don't leave the door open! He'll see you!" + +"He won't, Mrs. Clear. We'll keep back in the darkness. If he shows a +light, we'll rush him before he can use a weapon or clear out. Get back +to the window!" + +"I hope I'll get through with this all right," said Mrs. Clear +nervously. "It's an awful situation," and she moved stealthily across +the floor to the window. + +There was a faint gaslight outside, and the watchers could see her +figure and profile black against the slight illumination. All was still +and silent as the grave when they began their dreary watch. + +The minutes passed slowly in the darkness, and there was an unbroken +silence save for the breathing of the watchers and the restless +movements of Mrs. Clear near the window. They saw her pass and repass +the square of glass, when, unexpectedly, she paused, rigid and silent. + +A stealthy step was ascending the distant stair, and pacing cat-like +along the passage. + +Lucian felt a tremor pass through his body as the steps of the murderer +sounded nearer and clearer. They paused at the door, and then moved +towards the window where Mrs. Clear was standing. + +"Is that you?" said a low voice, which came weirdly out of the darkness. + +"Yes. I have been waiting for the last half hour, Mr. Wrent," replied +the woman in nervous tones. "I am glad you have come." + +"I am glad, also," said the voice harshly, "as I wish to know why you +propose to betray me." + +"Because you won't pay me the money," said Mrs. Clear boldly. "And if +you don't give it to me this very night I'll go straight and tell the +police all about my husband." + +"I'll kill you first!" cried the man with a snarl, and made a dash at +the woman. With a cry for help she eluded him and sprang towards the +bedroom door for protection. The next moment the four watchers were in +the room wrestling with Wrent. When he felt the grip of their hands, and +knew that he was betrayed, he cried out savagely, and fought with the +strength of two men. However, he could do little against his four +adversaries, and, worn out with the struggle, collapsed suddenly on to +the dusty floor with a motion of despair. + +"Lost! lost!" he muttered. "All lost!" + +Breathing hard, Link slipped back the cover of the dark lantern and +turned the light on to the face of the prisoner. Out of the darkness +started a pale face with white hair and long white beard. Lucian uttered +a cry. + +"Mr. Vrain!" he said, shrinking back, "Mr. Vrain!" + +"Look again," said Link, passing his hand rapidly over the face and head +of the prostrate man. Denzil did look, and uttered a second cry more +startling than the first. Wig and beard and venerable looks were all +gone, and he recognised at once who Wrent was. + +"Jabez Clyne!--Jabez Clyne!" he exclaimed in astonishment. + +"Yes!" cried Link triumphantly, "Jabez Clyne, conspirator and assassin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A STRANGE CONFESSION + + +"I, Jabez Clyne, write this confession in my prison cell, of my own free +will, and without coercion from any one; partly because I know that the +evidence concerning my share in the Vrain conspiracy is strong against +me, and partly because I wish to exonerate my daughter Lydia. + +"She is absolutely innocent of all knowledge concerning the feigned +death of her husband and his actual existence in a private lunatic +asylum; and on the strength of this confession of mine--which will fix +the guilt of the matter on the right persons--I demand that she shall be +set free. It is not fair that she should suffer, for I and Ferruci +planned and carried out the whole conspiracy. Well, Ferruci has punished +himself, and soon the law will punish me, so it is only justice that +Lydia should be discharged from all blame. On this understanding I set +out the whole story of the affair--how it was thought of, how it was +contrived, and how it was carried out. Now that Count Ferruci is dead, +this confession can harm no one but myself, and may be the means of +setting Lydia free. So here I begin my recital. + +"I was always an unlucky man, and the end of my life proves to be as +unfortunate as the beginning. I was born in London some fifty and more +years ago, in a Whitechapel slum, of drunken and profligate parents, so +it is little to be wondered at that my career has been anything but +virtuous or respectable. In my early childhood--if it may be called +so--I was beaten and starved, set to beg, forced to thieve, and never +had a kind word said to me or a kind deed done to me. No wonder I grew +up a callous, hardened ruffian. As the twig is bent, so will the tree +grow. + +"Out of this depth of degradation I was rescued by a philanthropist, who +had me fed and clothed and educated. I had at his hands every chance of +leading a respectable life, but I did not want to become smug and +honest. My early training was too strong for that, so after a year or +two of enforced goodness I ran away to sea. The vessel I embarked on as +a stowaway was bound for America. When I was discovered hiding among the +cargo we were in mid-ocean, and there was nothing for it but to carry me +to the States. Still, to earn my passage, I was made cabin-boy to a +ruffianly captain, and once more tasted the early delights of childhood, +viz., kicks, curses, and starvation. When the ship arrived in New York I +was turned adrift in the city without a penny or a friend. + +"It is not my purpose to describe my sufferings, as such description +will do no good and interest nobody; particularly as the purpose of this +confession is to declare the Vrain conspiracy and its failure; so I +will pass over my early years as speedily as possible. To be brief: I +became a newsboy, then a reporter; afterwards I went West and tried my +luck in San Francisco, later on in Texas; but in every case I failed, +and became poorer and more desperate than ever. In New Orleans I set up +a newspaper and had a brief time of prosperity, when I married the +daughter of a hotelkeeper, and for the time was happy. + +"Then the Civil War broke out, and I was ruined. My wife died, leaving +me with one child, whom I called Lydia, after her, but that child died +also, and I was left alone. After the war I prospered again for a time, +and married a woman with money. She also died, and left a daughter, and +this child I again called Lydia, in memory of my first wife, who was the +only woman I ever truly loved. I placed little Lydia in a convent for +education, and devoted my second wife's money to that purpose; then I +started out for the fifth or sixth time to make my fortune. Needless to +say, I did not make it. + +"I pass over a long period of distress and prosperity, hopes and fears. +One day I was rich, the next poor; and Fate--or whatever malignant deity +looked after my poor affairs--knocked me about most cruelly, tossed me +up, threw me down, and at the end of a score of years left me +comparatively prosperous, with an income, in English money, of L500 a +year. With this I returned to Washington to seek Lydia, and found her +grown up into a beautiful and clever girl. Her beauty gave me the idea +that I might marry her well in Europe as an American heiress. So for +Europe we started, and after many years of travel about the Continent we +settled down in the Pension Donizetti in Florence. There Lydia was +admired for her beauty and wit, and courted for her money! But save for +my ten pounds a week, which we eked out in the most frugal manner, we +had not a penny between us. + +"It was in Florence that we met with Vrain and his daughter, who came to +stay at the Pension. He was a quiet, harmless old gentleman, a trifle +weak in the head, which his daughter said came from over-study, but +which I discovered afterwards was due to habitual indulgence in morphia +and other drugs. His daughter watched him closely, and--not having a +will of his own by reason of his weak brain--he submitted passively to +her guidance. I heard by a side wind that Vrain was rich, and had a +splendid mansion in the country; so I hinted to Lydia that as it seemed +difficult to get her a young husband, it would be better for her to +marry a rich old one. At that time Lydia was in love with, and almost +engaged to, Count Ercole Ferruci, a penniless Italian nobleman, who +courted my pretty girl less for her beauty than for her supposed wealth. +When I suggested that Lydia should marry Vrain, she refused at first to +entertain the idea; but afterwards, seeing that the man was old and +weak, she thought it would be a good thing as his wife to inherit his +money, and then, as his widow, to marry Ferruci. I think, also, that the +pointed dislike which Diana Vrain manifested for us both--although I am +bound to say she hated Lydia more than she did me--had a great deal to +do with my daughter marrying Vrain. However, the end of it was that +Lydia broke off her engagement with Ferruci--and very mad he was at +losing her--and married Mark Vrain in Florence. + +"After the marriage the old man, who at that time was quite infatuated +with Lydia, made a will leaving her his assurance money of L20,000, but +the house near Bath, and the land, he left to Diana. I am bound to say +that Lydia behaved very well in this matter, as she could have had all +the money and land, but she was content with the assurance money, and +did not rob Diana Vrain of her birthright. Yet Diana hated her, and +still hates her; but I ask any one who reads this confession if my dear +Lyddy is not the better woman of the two? Who dares to say that such a +sweet girl is guilty of the crimes she is charged with? + +"Well, the marriage took place, and we all journeyed home to Berwin +Manor; but here things went from bad to worse. Old Vrain took again to +his morphia, and nothing would restrain him; then Lydia and Diana fought +constantly, and each wished the other out of the house. I tried to keep +the peace, and blamed Lyddy--who is no saint, I admit--for the way in +which she was treating Diana. With Miss Vrain I got on very well, and +tried to make things easy for her; but in the end the ill-will between +her and my Lydia became so strong that Diana left the house, and went +out to Australia to live with some relatives. + +"So Lydia and I and old Vrain were left alone, and I thought that +everything would be right. So it would have been if Lydia had not put +matters wrong again by inviting Ferruci over to stay. But she would +insist upon doing so, and although I begged and prayed and commanded her +not to have so dangerous a man in the house, she held her own; and in +the face of my remonstrances, and those of her husband, Count Ferruci +came to stay with us. + +"From the moment he entered the house there was nothing but trouble. +Vrain became jealous, and, mad with drugs he took, often treated Lydia +with cruelty and violence, and she came to me for protection. I spoke to +Vrain, and he insulted me, wishing to turn me out of the house; but for +Lydia's sake I remained. Then a Miss Tyler came to stay, and falling in +love with Count Ferruci, grew jealous of Lydia, and made trouble with +Vrain. The end of it was that after a succession of scenes, in which the +old man behaved like the lunatic he was, he left the house, and not one +of us knew where he went to. That was the last Lydia saw of her husband. + +"After that trouble I insisted that Count Ferruci should leave the +house; also Miss Tyler. They both did, but came back at times to pay +Lydia a visit. We tried to find Vrain, but could not, as he had +vanished altogether. Ferruci, I saw, was in love with Lydia, and she +with him, but neither the one nor the other hinted at a future marriage +should Vrain die. I do not say that Lydia was a fond wife to Vrain, but +he treated her so badly that he could not expect her to be; and I dare +say I am the one to blame all through, as I made Lydia marry Vrain when +she loved Ferruci. But I did it all for the best, so as to get money for +my dear girl; and if it has turned out for the worst, my inordinate +affection for my child is to blame. All I have done has been for Lydia's +sake; all Ferruci did was for Lydia's sake, as he truly loved her; but I +swear by all that I hold most holy that Lydia knew not how either of us +was working to secure her happiness. Well, Ferruci is dead, and I am in +jail, so we have paid in full for our wickedness. + +"I had no idea of getting rid of Vrain until one day Ferruci took me +aside and told me that he had found Vrain at Salisbury. He stated that +the man was still taking morphia, but in spite of his excesses had so +strong a constitution that it appeared he would live for many years. The +Count then said that he loved Lydia dearer than life, and wished to +marry her if Vrain could be got out of the way. I cried out against +murder being done, as I never entertained such an idea for a moment; but +Ferruci denied that he wished to harm the man. He wanted him put away in +a lunatic asylum, and when I asked him how even then he could marry +Lydia, he suggested his scheme of substituting a sickly and dying man +for Vrain. The scheme--which was entirely invented by the Count--was as +follows: + +"Ferruci said that in a minor London theatre he had seen an actor called +Clear, who was wonderfully like Vrain, save that he had no scar on the +cheek, and had a moustache, whereas Vrain was always clean-shaved. He +had made the acquaintance of the actor--Michael Clear was his full +name--and of his wife. They proved to be hard up and mercenary, so +Ferruci had no difficulty in gaining over both for his purpose. For a +certain sum of money (which was to be paid to Mrs. Clear when her +husband was dead and the Count, married to Lydia, was possessed of the +assurance money) Clear agreed to shave off his moustache and personate +Vrain. Ferruci, who was something of a chemist, created by means of some +acid a scar on Clear's cheek like that on Vrain's, so that he resembled +my son-in-law in every way save that he had lost one little finger. + +"Ferruci wanted me to join him in the conspiracy so that I could watch +Clear impersonating Vrain, while he himself kept his eye on the real +Vrain, who was to be received into Mrs. Clear's house at Bayswater and +passed off as her husband. All Mrs. Clear wanted was the money, as--long +since wearied of her drunken husband--she did not care if he lived or +died. Clear, on his part, knowing that he could not live long, was quite +willing to play the part of Vrain on condition that he had plenty to eat +and drink, and could live in idleness and luxury. His wishes in this +direction cost us a pretty penny, as he bought everything of the best. + +"To this plot I refused consent until I saw how Vrain was: so when +Ferruci brought him from Salisbury--where he was hiding--to London, I +had an interview with him. He proved to be so stupefied with drugs that +he hardly knew me, so, seeing that my Lydia would get no good out of her +life by being tied to such a husband, I determined that I would assist +Ferruci, on the understanding, of course, that Vrain was to be well +looked after in every way. We agreed that when Clear died, and his body +was identified as Vrain's, that the real man should be put in an asylum, +which was--and I am sure every one will agree with me--the best place +for him. + +"All this being arranged, I went out to look for a house in a secluded +part of the town, in which Clear--under the name of Berwin--should live +until he died as Vrain. I did not wish to see about the house in my new +character, lest I should be recognised, if there was any trouble over +the assurance money; to complicate matters, I determined to disguise +myself as the real Vrain. Of course, Clear personated Vrain as Lydia had +last seen him, that is, clean-shaven, and neat in his dress. But the +real Vrain, neglecting his personal appearance, had cultivated a long, +white beard, and wore a black velvet skull-cap to conceal a baldness +which had come upon him. I disguised myself in this fashion, therefore, +and went to Pimlico under the name of Wrent." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE CONFESSION (_Continued_) + + +"In Geneva Square, Pimlico, I found the house I wanted. It was No. 13, +and was said to be haunted, as cries had been heard in it at night, and +lights had been seen flitting from window to window when no one was in +the house. I looked at it without entering, or calling on the landlord, +and then I went into Jersey Street to see the back. The house in the +same section with it was kept by a Mrs. Bensusan, who took in lodgers. +Her rooms were vacant, and as it suited me very well that I should be a +neighbour to Clear, I took the rooms. They proved--as I shall +explain--better for our purpose than I was aware of. + +"When I told Ferruci of my discovery, he gave Clear money and made him +hire the house and furnish two rooms for himself. I supplied the money. +In this way Clear, calling himself Berwin, which was the name of Vrain's +house in the country, came to live in Pimlico. We also removed the real +Vrain to Mrs. Clear's at Bayswater, and he passed as her husband. So +weak were his brains, and so cowed was his spirit, that there was no +difficulty in keeping him in the house, and the neighbours were told +merely that Clear was ill. + +"For my part, I took up my abode in Jersey Street under the name of +Wrent, and met Clear outside on occasions when it was necessary for me +to see him; but I never entered the house--for obvious reasons. + +"I was constantly afraid lest Clear, in his drunken fits--for he was +always more or less drunk--should reveal our secret, and I took as my +bedroom an apartment in Mrs. Bensusan's out of the window of which I +could overlook the back of No. 13. One night, when I was watching, I saw +a dark figure glide into Mrs. Bensusan's yard and climb over the fence, +only to disappear. I was terribly alarmed, and wondering what was wrong, +I put on my clothes and hurried downstairs into the yard. Also I climbed +over the fence into the yard of No. 13. Here I could not see where the +figure had disappeared to, as the doors and windows at the back of the +house were all locked. I could not conjecture who the woman was--for it +was a woman I saw--who had entered, or why she had done so, or in what +way she had gained admission. + +"While I was thus thinking I saw the woman again. She apparently rose +out of the earth, and after closing what appeared to be a trap-door, she +made for the fence. I stopped her before she got there, and found to my +surprise that she was a red-headed servant of Mrs. Bensusan's--a kind of +gypsy, very clever, and--I think--with much evil in her. She was +alarmed at being discovered, and begged me not to tell on her. For my +own sake, I promised not to do so, but made her explain how she got into +the house, and why she entered it. Then she told me an extraordinary +tale. + +"For some years, she said, she had been with Mrs. Bensusan, who had +taken her from the gypsies to civilise her, and hating the restraint of +civilised life, she had been in the habit of roaming about at night. +Knowing that the house at the back was unoccupied, this Rhoda--for that +is her name--climbed over the fence and tried to get into it, but found +the doors and windows bolted and barred. + +"Then one night she saw a kind of grated window amid the grass, and as +this proved not to be bolted, she pulled it open. Taking a candle with +her, she went on a voyage of discovery, and dropped through this hole +some distance into a disused cellar. Only a cat could have got in +safely, for the height was considerable; and, indeed, Rhoda did not risk +that mode of entrance again, for, finding a ladder in the cellar, which, +I presume, had been used to get at the higher bins of wine, she placed +this against the aperture, and thus was enabled to ascend and descend +without difficulty. Frequently by this means she entered the empty +house, and went from room to room with her candle, singing gypsy songs +as she wandered. So here I had found the ghost of No. 13, although I +don't suppose this impish gypsy girl knew as much. She haunted the +house just to amuse herself, when fat Mrs. Bensusan thought she was +safe in bed. + +"I asked Rhoda why she had entered the house on that particular night +when I had caught her. She confessed that she had seen some articles of +silver in Clear's rooms which she wished to steal; but on this occasion +he had locked the door--a thing which he did not always do in his +drunken humours--and so Rhoda was returning disappointed. After this +confession I made her go back to her own house and promised to keep her +secret. I also told her that if she held her tongue I would give her a +present. For this purpose I made Ferruci buy me a cloak lined with +rabbit skins, as Rhoda on her night excursions wanted something to keep +her warm. When Ferruci gave it to me, and it was lying in my room, Mrs. +Clear came one night to see me, and finding it cold, she borrowed the +cloak to wrap round her. She kept it for some time, and brought it back +on Christmas Eve, when I gave it next day to Rhoda. It was Ferruci who +bought the cloak, not I; and it was purchased for Rhoda, not for Mrs. +Clear. + +"The next night I entered No. 13 by the cellarway, and found it of great +advantage, as I could visit Clear without exciting suspicion, and so +keep an eye on him. At first he was alarmed by my unexpected appearance, +but when I showed him the secret way, he made use of it also. We used it +only on dark nights, and it was for this reason that we were not noticed +by the neighbours. It would never have done for any one of us to be +seen climbing over the fence. Mrs. Clear once visited her husband, and +had a quarrel with him about his drinking. It was her shadow and Clear's +which Denzil saw on the blind. As soon as they heard his ring they both +went out the back way, and in climbing hurriedly over the fence Mrs. +Clear tore her veil. It was a portion of this which Denzil found. + +"On that night, Clear, after leaving his wife, entered the square by the +front, and so met with Denzil, much to the latter's surprise. I was very +angry when Clear showed Denzil over the house; but he said that the +young man was very suspicious, and he only showed him the house to prove +that there was no one in it, and that he must have been mistaken about +the shadows on the blind. Notwithstanding this explanation, I did not +approve of Clear's act, nor, indeed, of his acquaintance with Denzil. + +"For some months matters went on in this way. Clear remained in the +Silent House, drinking himself to death; Mrs. Clear looked after Vrain +in her Bayswater house; and I, in my old-man disguise, remained in +Jersey Street, although at times I left there and went to see my +daughter. All this time Lydia had no idea of what we were preparing. +Then I began to grow wearied of the position, for Clear proved tougher +than we anticipated, and showed no signs of dying. In despair, I thought +I would give him the means to kill himself. + +"Mind, I did not wish to murder him myself; but the man, when in his +drinking fits, thought he was attacked by enemies, and when in a +melancholic frame of mind, on recovery, would frequently hint at +suicide. I therefore thought that if a weapon were left within his reach +he might kill himself. I don't defend my conduct in this case, but +surely this drunken scoundrel was better dead than alive. In choosing a +weapon, I wished to select one that would implicate Ferruci rather than +myself, in case there was any trouble over the matter; so I chose for my +purpose a stiletto which hung by a parti-coloured ribbon on the walls of +the library at Berwin Manor. I fancied that the stiletto, having been +bought in Florence, and Ferruci coming from Florence, he, if +anyone--should any of these facts come to light--would be credited with +giving it to Clear. + +"I took this stiletto from Berwin Manor some time before Christmas, and, +bringing it up to town, I left it, on the day before Christmas, on the +table in Clear's sitting-room. That was at nine o'clock in the night, +and that was when I last saw him alive. Who killed him I know no more +than any one else. + +"On Christmas Eve I was ill, and wrote to Lydia to come up. She met me +at the Pegalls', but as I felt ill, I left there at six o'clock, and +Lydia stayed with the family all night. At seven o'clock Mrs. Clear came +to me with Ferruci, and brought back the cloak which I gave afterwards +to Rhoda. She wanted to see her husband again, but I refused to let her +risk the visit. Ferruci came to tell me that he was arranging to place +Vrain--who was becoming too violent to be restrained--in the private +asylum of Dr. Jorce, at Hampstead. Mrs. Clear was to go with him, and we +conversed about the matter. + +"Ferruci went away first, as he desired to see Clear, and for that +purpose waited about until it was darker, and went into the back yard +shortly after eight o'clock. There he was seen by Rhoda as he was about +to climb the fence, and, not knowing it was the girl, he took fright and +ran out of the yard into Jersey Street. Here he found Mrs. Clear, who +had left me and was waiting for him, and the pair went off to see Dr. +Jorce at Hampstead. I believe they remained there all night. + +"Left alone, I climbed over the fence about nine o'clock, and saw Clear. +He was celebrating Christmas Eve by drinking heavily, and I was unable +to bring him to reason. I therefore left the stiletto which I had +brought with me on the table, and returned to my house in Jersey Street. +I never saw him alive again. I went to bed and slept all night, so I was +aware of nothing in connection with the death until late on Christmas +Day. Then Mrs. Bensusan was told by Miss Greeb, the landlady of Denzil, +that the tenant of No. 13 had been murdered. I fancied that he had +killed himself in a fit of melancholia, with the stiletto I had left on +his table; but I did not dare to go near the house to find this out. + +"Afterwards I learned that the doctor who examined the body was of the +opinion that Clear had been murdered; and, being afraid about the police +taking up the case, I paid Mrs. Bensusan a week's rent and left her +house two days after Christmas. I returned to Berwin Manor, and shortly +afterwards Ferruci joined me there, as he had successfully incarcerated +Vrain in the asylum under the name of Michael Clear. + +"When the advertisement came out, it was I who hinted to Lydia that the +dead man--seeing that he was called Berwin--might be her husband. We +went up to town: Lydia identified the body of Clear as her husband in +all innocence--for after death the man looked more like Vrain than ever; +and in due time the assurance money was obtained. + +"I do not think there is anything more to tell, save that I did not know +that Mrs. Clear had betrayed me. I could not pay her the money, as I +could not get it from Lydia. I told Lydia I was going to Paris, but in +reality I was hunting for Rhoda, who had run away from Jersey Street. I +fancied she might betray us, and wished to make things safe with her. +Before I found her, however, I saw in the papers that Ferruci had +committed suicide; also that Lydia--who had gone to Dover to meet me, +thinking I was returning from Paris--had been arrested. Then I saw Mrs. +Clear's advertisement saying she would betray me if I did not pay the +money. I consented to meet her in order to implore her silence, and so +fell into the clutches of the law. + +"I may state that I did not kill Clear, as I never saw him after nine +o'clock, and then he was alive. In spite of what the doctor said, I am +still inclined to think he killed himself. Now I have made a clean +breast of it--I am willing to be punished; but I hope Lydia will be set +free, for whosoever is guilty, she is innocent. I have been an unlucky +man, and I remain one at this moment when I sign myself for the last +time, + JABEZ CLYNE." + + * * * * * + +Needless to say, both Link and Denzil were greatly surprised at this +confession, which revealed all things save the one they wished to know. + +"What do you think of this idea of suicide?" asked Lucian. + +"It is quite out of the question," replied the detective decidedly. "The +doctor who examined the body said that it was impossible the man could +have committed suicide. The position of the wound shows that; also the +power of the stroke. No man could drive a stiletto so dexterously and +strongly into the heart. Also the room was in confusion, which points to +a struggle, and the stiletto is missing. It was not suicide, but murder, +and I believe either Clyne or Ferruci killed the man." + +"But Ferruci was not----" + +"He was not there after ten," interrupted Link, "but he was there about +eight. I dare say when Rhoda saw him he was coming back after having +committed the deed, and Clyne says the stiletto was not there at the +time just to screen him." + +"It is of little use to screen the dead," said Lucian. "I think only one +person can tell the truth about this murder, and that is Rhoda." + +"I'm looking for her, Mr. Denzil." + +This was easy saying, but harder doing, for weeks passed away, and in +spite of all the efforts of the police Rhoda could not be found. Then +one morning the detective, much excited, burst into Lucian's rooms +waving a paper over his head. + +"A confession!" he cried. "Another confession!" + +"Of whom?" asked Lucian, surprised. + +"Of Rhoda!" replied Link excitedly. "She has confessed! It was Rhoda who +killed Michael Clear!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY + + +Of all the news concerning the truth of Clear's death, this was the last +which Lucian expected to hear. He stood staring at the excited face of +the detective in wide-eyed surprise, and for the moment could not find +his voice. + +"It is true, I tell you!" cried Link, sitting down and smoothing out the +paper which he carried. "Rhoda, and none other, killed the man!" + +"Are you sure, Link?" + +"Of course I am. This," flourishing the paper, "is her dying +confession." + +"Her dying confession?" repeated the barrister blankly. "Is she dead, +also?" + +"Yes. It is a long story, Mr. Denzil. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you. +As you have had so much to do with the beginning of the case, it is only +fair that you should know the end, and a strange end it is." + +Without a word Lucian sat down, feeling quite confused, for in no way +could he guess how Clear had come by his death at the hands of Rhoda. He +had suspected Lydia as guilty of the crime; he had credited Ferruci +with its commission, and he had been certain of the guilt of Clyne, +_alias_ Wrent; but to discover that the red-headed servant was the +culprit entirely bewildered him. She had no motive to kill the man; she +had given evidence freely in the matter, and in all respects had acted +as an innocent person. So this was why she had left Jersey Street? It +was a fear of being arrested for the crime which had driven her into the +wilds. But, as Lucian privately thought, she need not have fled, for--so +far as he could see--beyond the startling announcement of Link, there +was no evidence to connect her with the matter. It was most +extraordinary. + +"I see you are astonished," said Link, with a nod; "so was I. Of all +folk, I least suspected that imp of a girl. The truth would never have +been known, had she not confessed at the last moment; for even now I +cannot see, on the face of it, any evidence--save her own confession--to +inculpate her in the matter. So you see, Mr. Denzil, the mystery of this +man's death, which we have been so anxious to solve, has not been +explained by you, or discovered by me, but has been brought to light by +chance, which, after all, is the great detective. You may well look +astonished," repeated the man slowly; "I am--immensely." + +"Let me hear the confession, Link!" + +"Wait one moment. I'll tell you how it came to be made, and then I'll +relate the story in my own fashion, as the way in which the confession +is written is too muddled for you to understand clearly. Still, it +shows plainly enough that Clyne, for all our suspicions, is innocent." + +"And Rhoda, the sharp servant girl, guilty," said Lucian, reflectively. +"I never should have thought that she was involved in the matter. How +the deuce did she come to confess?" + +"Well," said Link, clearing his throat as a preliminary to his +narrative, "it seems that Mr. Bensusan, in a fit of philanthropy, picked +up this wretched girl in the country. She belonged to some gypsies, but +as her parents were dead, and the child a burden, the tribe were glad to +get rid of her. Rhoda Stanley--that is her full name--was taken to +London by Mrs. Bensusan, who tried to civilise her." + +"I don't think she succeeded very well, Link. Rhoda, with her cunning +ways and roaming about at night, was always a savage at heart. In spite +of what Clyne says in his confession, I believe she took a delight in +turning No. 13 into a haunted house with her shrieking and her flitting +candles. How she must have enjoyed herself when she heard the talk about +the ghost!" + +"I have no doubt she did, Mr. Denzil, but even those delights wearied +her, and she longed to get back to the free gypsy life. When she +found--through you, sir--that the police wanted to know too much about +Clear's death, she left Mrs. Bensusan in the lurch, and tramped off down +to the New Forest, where she picked up again with her tribe." + +"How did her mistress take her desertion?" + +"Very much to heart, as she had treated the young savage very kindly, +and ought to have received more gratitude. Perhaps when she hears how +her adopted child wandered about at night, and ended by killing Clear, +she will be glad she is dead and buried. Yet, I don't know. Women are +wonderfully soft-hearted, and certainly Rhoda is thought no end of by +that fat woman." + +"Well! well!" said Lucian, impatient of this digression. "So Rhoda went +back to her tribe?" + +"Yes, sir; and as she was sharp, clever, and, moreover, came with some +money which she had stolen from Mrs. Bensusan--for she added theft to +ingratitude--she was received with open arms. With her gypsy cousins she +went about in the true gypsy style, but, not being hardened to the +outdoor life in wet weather, she fell ill." + +"Civilisation made her delicate, I suppose," said Denzil grimly. + +"Exactly; she was not fit for the tent life after having lived for so +long under a comfortable roof. She fell ill with inflammation of the +lungs, and in a wonderfully short space of time she died." + +"When did she confess her crime?" + +"I'm coming to that, sir. When she was dying she sent two gypsies to the +nearest magistrate--who happened to be the vicar of the parish in which +the tribe were then encamped--and asked him to see her on a matter of +life and death. The vicar came at once, and when he became aware that +Rhoda was the girl wanted in the Vrain case--for he had read all about +her in the papers--he became very interested. He took down the +confession of the wretched girl, had it signed by two witnesses and +Rhoda herself, and sent it up to Scotland Yard." + +"And this confession----" + +"Here it is," said Link, pointing to the manuscript on the table; "but +it is too long to read, so I shall just tell you briefly what Rhoda +confessed, and how she committed the crime." + +"Go on! I am most anxious to hear, Link!" + +"Well, Mr. Denzil, you know that Rhoda was in the habit of visiting No. +13 by night and amusing herself by wandering about the empty rooms, +although I don't know what pleasure she found in doing so. It seems that +when Clear became the tenant of the house, Rhoda was very angry, as his +presence interfered with her midnight capers. However, on seeing his +rooms--for Clear found her one night, and took her in to show them to +her--she was filled with admiration, and with true gypsy instinct wanted +to steal some of the ornaments. She tried to pocket a silver paper-knife +on that very night Clear was so hospitable to her, but she was not sharp +enough, and the man saw the theft. In a rage at her dishonesty he turned +her out of the room, and swore that he would thrash her if she came into +his presence again." + +"Did the threat keep Rhoda away?" + +"Not it. I am sure you saw enough of that wildcat to know nothing would +frighten her. She certainly did not thrust herself personally on Clear, +but whenever his back was turned she took to stealing things out of his +room, when he was foolish enough to leave the door open. Clear was much +enraged, and complained to Clyne--known to Rhoda as Wrent--who in his +turn read the girl a sharp lecture. + +"But having shown Clyne the cellarway into the house, Miss Rhoda knew +too much, and laughed in Clyne's face. He did not dare to make her +thefts public, or complain to Mrs. Bensusan, lest Rhoda should tell of +the connection between him and the tenant of the Silent House, who +passed under the name of Berwin. Therefore, he told Clear to keep his +sitting-room door locked." + +"A wise precaution, with that imp about," said Lucian. "I hope Clear was +sensible enough to adopt it." + +"Yes, and no. When he was sober he locked the door, and when drunk he +left it open, and Rhoda looted at will. And now comes the more important +part of the confession. You remember that Clyne left the stiletto from +Berwin Manor on Clear's table?" + +"Yes, with the amiable intention that the poor devil should kill +himself. He left it on Christmas Eve, too--a pleasant time for a man to +commit suicide!" + +"Of course, the intention was horrible!" said Mr. Link, gravely. "Some +people might think such an act incredible; but I have seen so much of +the worst side of human nature that I am not surprised. Clyne was too +cowardly to kill the man himself, so he thought to make Clear his own +executioner by leaving the stiletto in his way. Well, sir, the weapon +proved to be useful in the way it was intended by Clyne, for Clear was +killed with that very weapon." + +"And by Rhoda!" said Lucian, nodding. "I see! How did she get hold of +it?" + +"By accident. When Wrent--I mean Clyne--and Mrs. Bensusan went to bed on +Christmas Eve, Rhoda thought she would have some of her devil dances in +the haunted house; so she slipped out of bed and into the yard, and +dropped down into the cellar, whence she went up to Clear's rooms." + +"Was Clear in bed?" + +"No; but he was in his bedroom, and, according to Rhoda, furiously +drunk. You know that Clyne said the man had been drinking all day. On +this night he had left his sitting-room door open, and the lamp burning. +On the table was the silver-handled stiletto, with the ribbon; and when +Rhoda peered into the room to see what she could pick up, she thought +she would like this pretty toy. She stole forward softly and took the +stiletto, but before she could get back to the door, Clear, who had been +watching her, reeled out and rushed at her." + +"Did she run away?" + +"She couldn't. Clear was between her and the door. She ran round the +room, upsetting everything, for she thought he would kill her in his +drunken rage. Don't you remember, Mr. Denzil, how disorderly the room +was? Well, Clear got Rhoda into a corner, and was going to strike her; +she had the stiletto still in her hand, and held it point outward to +save herself from the blow. She thought when he saw the weapon he would +not dare to come nearer. However, either he did not see the stiletto, or +was too drunk to feel fear, for he stumbled and fell forward, so that +the dagger ran right into his heart. In a moment he fell dead, before he +had time, as Rhoda says, to even utter a cry." + +"So it was an accident, after all?" said Lucian. + +"Oh, yes, quite an accident," replied Link, "and I can see very plainly +how it took place. Of course, Rhoda was terrified at what she had +done--although she really was not to blame--and leaving the dead man, +ran away with the stiletto. She dropped the ribbon off it near the +cellar door as she was running away, and there Mrs. Kebby found it." + +"What did she do with the stiletto?" + +"She had it in her room, and when she left Mrs. Bensusan she carried it +with her down the country. In proof of the truth, she gave it to the +vicar who wrote down her confession, and he sent it up with the papers +to Scotland Yard. Queer case, isn't it?" + +"Very queer, Link. I thought everybody was guilty but Rhoda." + +"Ah!" said the detective, significantly, "it is always the least +suspected person who is guilty. I could have sworn that Clyne was the +man. Now it seems that he is innocent, so instead of hanging he will +only be imprisoned for his share in the conspiracy." + +"He may escape that way," said Lucian drily, "but, morally speaking, I +regard him as more guilty than Rhoda." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE END OF IT ALL + + +Two years after the discovery of Rhoda's guilt, Mr. and Mrs. Denzil were +seated in the garden of Berwin Manor. It was a perfect summer evening, +at the sunset hour, something like that evening when, in the same +garden, almost at the same time, Lucian had asked Diana to be his wife. +But between then and now twenty-four months had elapsed, and many things +had taken place of more or less importance to the young couple. + +The mystery of Clear's death had been solved; Lydia had been set free as +innocent of crime; her father, found guilty of conspiracy to obtain the +assurance money, had been condemned to a long term of imprisonment, and, +what most concerned Lucian and Diana, Mark Vrain had really and truly +gone the way of all flesh. + +After the conclusion of the Vrain case Lucian had become formally +engaged to Diana, but it was agreed between them that the marriage +should not take place for some time on account of her father's health. +After his discharge as cured from the asylum of Dr. Jorce, Miss Vrain +had taken her father down to his own place in the country, and there +tended him with the most affectionate solicitude, in the hope that he +would recover his health. But the hope was vain, for by his +over-indulgence in morphia, his worrying and wandering, and irregular +mode of life, Vrain had completely shattered his health. He lapsed into +a state of second childhood, and, being deprived of the drugs which +formerly had excited him to a state of frenzy, sank into a pitiable +condition. For days he would remain without speaking to any one, and +even ceased to take a pleasure in his books. Finally his limbs became +paralysed, and so he spent the last few months of his wretched life in a +bath-chair, being wheeled round the garden. + +Still, his constitution was so strong that he lived for quite twelve +months after his return to his home, and died unexpectedly in his sleep. +Diana was not sorry when he passed so easily away, for death was a +merciful release of his tortured soul from his worn-out body. So Mark +Vrain died, and was buried, and after the funeral Diana went abroad, +with Miss Priscilla Barbar for a companion. + +In the meantime, Lucian stayed in grimy, smoky London, and worked hard +at his profession. He was beginning to be known, and in time actually +received a brief or two, with which he did his best in court. Still, he +was far from being the successful pleader he hoped to be, for law, of +all professions, is one which demands time and industry for the +attainment of any degree of excellence. It is rarely that a young +lawyer can go to sleep and wake to find himself famous; he must crawl +rather than run. With diligence and punctuality, and observance of every +chance, in time the wished-for goal is reached, although that goal, in +nine cases out of ten, is a very moderate distance off. Lucian did not +sigh for a judgeship, or for a seat on the Woolsack; he was content to +be a barrister with a good practice, and perhaps a Q.C.-ship in +prospect. However, during the year of Diana's mourning he did so well +that he felt justified in asking her to marry him when she returned. +Diana, on her side, saw no obstacle to this course, so she consented. + +"If you are not rich, my dear, I am," she said, when Lucian alleged his +poverty as the only bar to their union, "and as money gives me no +pleasure without you, I do not care to stay in Berwin Manor in lonely +spinsterhood. I shall marry you whenever you choose." + +And Lucian, taking advantage of this gracious permission, did choose to +be married, and that speedily; so within two years after the final +closing of the Vrain case they became man and wife. At the time they +were seated in the garden, at the hour of sunset, they had only lately +returned from their honeymoon, and were now talking over past +experiences. Miss Priscilla, who had been left in charge of the Manor +during their absence, had welcomed them back with much joy, as she +looked upon the match as one of her own making. Now she had gone inside, +on the understanding that two are company and three are none, and the +young couple were left alone. Hand in hand, after the foolish fashion of +lovers, they sat under a leafy oak tree, and the sunlight glowed redly +on their happy faces. After a short silence Lucian looked at the face of +his wife and laughed. + +"What is amusing you, dear?" said Mrs. Denzil, with a sympathetic smile. + +"My thoughts were rather pleasant than amusing," replied Lucian, giving +the hand that lay in his a squeeze, "but I was thinking of Hans +Andersen's tale of the Elder Mother Tree, and of the old couple who sat +enjoying their golden wedding under the linden, with the red sunlight +shining on their silver crowns." + +"We are under an oak and wear no crowns," replied Diana in her turn, +"but we are quite as happy, I think, although it is not our golden +wedding." + +"Perhaps that will come some day, Diana." + +"Fifty years, my dear; it's a long way off yet," said Mrs. Denzil +dubiously. + +"I am glad it is, for I shall have (D.V.,) fifty years of happiness with +you to look forward to. Upon my word, Diana, I think you deserve +happiness, after all the trouble you have had." + +"With you I am sure to be happy, Lucian, but other people, poor souls, +are not so well off." + +"What other people?" + +"Jabez Clyne, for one." + +"My dear," said Lucian, seriously, "I hope I am not a hard man, but I +really cannot find it in my heart to pity Clyne. He was--and I dare say +is--a scoundrel!" + +"I don't deny that he acted badly," sighed Diana, "but it was for his +daughter's sake, you know." + +"There is a limit even to paternal affection, Diana. And putting aside +the wickedness of the whole conspiracy, I cannot pardon a man who +deliberately put a weapon in the way of a man almost insane with drink, +in order that he might kill himself. The idea was diabolically wicked, +my dear, and I think that Jabez Clyne, _alias_ Wrent, quite deserves the +long imprisonment he received." + +"At all events, the Sirius Company got back their money, Lucian." + +"So much as Lydia had not spent they got back, Diana; but when your +father actually died they had to part with it very soon again, and some +of it has gone into Lydia's pocket after all." + +Diana blushed. "It was only right, dear," she said, apologetically. +"When my father made his new will, leaving it all to me, I did not think +that Lydia, however badly she treated him, should be left absolutely +penniless. And you know, Lucian, you agreed that I should share the +assurance money with her." + +"I did," replied Denzil. "Of two evils I chose the least, for if Lydia +had not got a portion of the money she would have been quite capable of +trying to upset the second will on the ground that Mr. Vrain was +insane." + +"Papa was not insane," reproved Diana. "He was weak, I admit, but at +the time he made that will he had all his senses. Besides, after all the +scandal of the case, I don't think Lydia would have dared to go to law +about it. Still, it was best to give her the money, and I hear from Miss +Priscilla that Lydia is now in Italy, and proposes to marry an Italian +prince." + +"She has flown higher than a count, then. Poor Ferruci killed himself +for her sake." + +"For his own, rather," exclaimed Mrs. Denzil energetically. "He knew +that if he lived he would be punished by imprisonment, so chose to kill +himself rather than suffer such dishonour. I believe he truly loved +Lydia, certainly, but as he wanted the assurance money, I fancy he +sinned quite as much for his own sake as for Lydia's." + +"No doubt; and I dare say Lydia loved him, after her own fashion; yet +she seems to have forgotten him pretty soon, and--as you say--intends to +marry a prince. I don't envy his highness." + +"She has no heart, so I dare say she will be happy as such women ever +are," said Diana contemptuously, "yet her happiness comes out of much +evil. If she had not married my father, her own would not now be in +prison, nor would Count Ferruci and Rhoda be dead." + +"Ferruci, perhaps, might still be alive, and her husband," assented +Lucian, "but I have my doubts about Rhoda. She was a wicked, precocious +little imp, that girl, and sooner or later would have come to a bad end. +The death of Clear was due to an accident, I admit; but Rhoda has still +one person who laments over her, for, although Mrs. Bensusan knows the +truth, she always thinks of that red-haired minx as a kind of martyr, +who was led into wicked ways by Clyne, _alias_ Wrent." + +"I am sure Mrs. Clear doesn't think so." + +"Mrs. Clear has got quite enough to think about in remembering how +narrowly she escaped imprisonment for her share in that shameful +conspiracy. If she had not turned Queen's evidence, she would have been +punished as Clyne was; as it is, she just escaped by an accident. Still, +if it had not been for her, we should never have discovered the truth. I +would never have suspected Clyne, who was always so meek and mild. Even +that visit he paid to me to lament over his daughter's probable marriage +to Ferruci was a trick to find out how much I knew." + +"Don't you think he hated Ferruci?" + +"No; I am sure he did not. He acted a part to find out what I was doing. +If Mrs. Clear had not betrayed him we should never have discovered the +conspiracy." + +"And if Rhoda had not spoken, the mystery of Clear's death would never +have been solved," said Diana, "although she only confessed at the +eleventh hour, and when she was dying." + +"I think Link was pleased that the mystery was solved in so unexpected a +way," said Lucian, laughing. "He never forgave my finding out so much +without his aid. He ascribes the ending of the whole matter to chance, +and I dare say he is right." + +"H'm!" said Mrs. Denzil, who had no great love for the detective. "He +certainly left everything to chance. Twice he gave up the case.". + +"And twice I gave it up," said Denzil. "If it had not been for you, +dear, I should never have gone on with what seemed to be a hopeless +task. But when I first met you you induced me to continue the search for +the culprit, and again when, by the evidence of the missing finger, you +did not believe your father was dead." + +"Well, you worked; I worked; Link worked," said Diana, philosophically, +"and we all three did our best to discover the truth." + +"Only to let chance discover it in the long run." + +Diana laughed and nodded, but did not contradict her husband. "Well, my +dear," she said, "I think we have discussed the subject pretty freely, +but there is one thing I should like to know. What about the Silent +House in Pimlico?" + +"Oh, Miss Greeb told me the other day that Peacock is going to pull it +down. You know, just before we were married I took leave of Miss Greeb, +with whom I lodged for a long time. Well, she gave me a piece of news. +She is going to be married, also, and to whom, do you think?" + +"I don't know," said Diana, looking interested, as women always do in +marriage news. + +"To Peacock, who owns nearly all the property in and about Geneva +Square. It will be a splendid match for her, and Mrs. Peacock, will be +much richer than you or I, Diana." + +"But not happier, my dear. I am glad she is to be married, as she seemed +a nice woman, and made you very comfortable. But why is the Silent House +to be pulled down?" + +"Because no one will live in it." + +"But it is not haunted now. You know it was discovered that Rhoda was +the ghost, and the ghost, as Miss Greeb suggested, killed Clear." + +"It is haunted now by the ghost of Clear," said Lucian gravely. "At all +events, he was murdered there, and no one cares to live in the house. I +confess I shouldn't care to live in it myself. So, Peacock, finding the +house unprofitable, has determined to pull it down." + +"So there is an end to the Silent House of Pimlico," said Diana, rising +and taking her husband's arm. "Come inside, Lucian. It grows chilly." + + "'Tho' winds be cold and nights be drear, + Yet love makes warm our hearts, my dear,'" + +quoted Lucian, as they went up to the house. "That is not very good +poetry, but it is a beautiful truth, my love." + +Diana laughed, and looked up proudly into the bright face of her +husband. + +So they went inside, and found that Miss Priscilla had made the tea, and +all were very happy, and very thankful for their happiness. In this +condition, which is sufficiently pleasant, I think we may leave them. + + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Silent House, by Fergus Hume + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SILENT HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 19069.txt or 19069.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/6/19069/ + +Produced by Geetu Melwani, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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