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+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: 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
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