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diff --git a/22820-h/22820-h.htm b/22820-h/22820-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc3c324 --- /dev/null +++ b/22820-h/22820-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10145 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Crooked House, by Brandon Fleming</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 50%;} + + .authorsc {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%; font-variant: small-caps;} /* right align and move signature of letter in and name in small caps */ + + .smallgap {margin-top: 2em;} /* adds white space on title page*/ + .gap {margin-top: 4em;} /* adds white space on title page*/ + .biggap {margin-top: 6em;} /* adds white space on title page*/ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Crooked House, by Brandon Fleming</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Crooked House</p> +<p>Author: Brandon Fleming</p> +<p>Release Date: September 30, 2007 [eBook #22820]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROOKED HOUSE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by D. Alexander<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from digital material generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/crookedhouse00flemiala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/crookedhouse00flemiala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="smallgap"> </p> +<h1>THE</h1> +<h1>CROOKED HOUSE</h1> + +<p class="gap"> </p> +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>BRANDON FLEMING</h2> + +<p class="biggap"> </p> +<h4>NEW YORK</h4> +<h4>EDWARD J. CLODE</h4> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1921, by</span></p> + +<p class="center">EDWARD J. CLODE</p> + +<p class="center">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:15%;" /> +<col style="width:5%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">I</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Strange Riddle</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_CROOKED_HOUSE">9</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">II</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Crooked House</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">19</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">III</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Endless Garden</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">33</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">IV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Destruction</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">45</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">V</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Copplestone</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">53</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">VI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Trail of Corpses</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">65</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">VII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tranter</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">71</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">VIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Astley-Rolfe</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">80</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">IX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Danseuse</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">83</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">X</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Gluckstein</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">85</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Clergyman</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">87</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Bolsolver</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">89</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Trinity of Death</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">92</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XIV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Without Trace</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">105</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Builder of Men</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">117</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XVI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Triple Alliance</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">133</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XVII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Gluckstein in Confidence</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">142</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XVIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Wit of the Pink Lady</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">151</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XIX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Detained on Suspicion</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">159</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Birth of the Killer</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">176</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Hasty Flight</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">187</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tranter Attacks the Crooked House</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">195</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Duel</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">205</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Secret of the House</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">220</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Truer Colors</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">233</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXVI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Providing for the Worst</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">241</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXVII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Disappearance of Tranter</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">250</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXVIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">In Pursuit</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">259</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ethics of Killing</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">262</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Monsieur Dupont's Task</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">273</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXXI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">What They Heard</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">279</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXXII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Beauty-Killer</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">288</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXXIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Last Truths</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">291</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="right">XXXIV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left"><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">312</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h1><a name="THE_CROOKED_HOUSE" id="THE_CROOKED_HOUSE"></a>THE CROOKED HOUSE</h1> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Strange Riddle</span></p> + + +<p>"Monsieur Tranter! A +moment!"</p> + +<p>The Right-Honorable John +Tranter swung round, latch-key +in hand. Behind him, an enormous figure +emerged, with surprisingly agile and noiseless +steps, from the shadow of the adjoining house—a +figure almost grotesque and monstrous in +the dim light of the street lamp. The very +hugeness of the apparition was so disconcerting +that John Tranter drew back with a startled +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! Monsieur Dupont? You in +London?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont described circles with his +country's largest silk hat.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +"I in London! An event, my friend, in the +history of your city!"</p> + +<p>He laughed softly, and replaced the hat on +his head. They shook hands warmly.</p> + +<p>"This is a delightful surprise," Tranter said, +turning back to the door. "Come in."</p> + +<p>"It is late," Monsieur Dupont apologized—"but +I entreat a moment. It is three hours +only since I arrived, and I have passed one of +them on your doorstep."</p> + +<p>"An hour?" Tranter exclaimed. "But +surely——"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont squeezed himself into the +narrow hall with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"I possess the gift of patience," he claimed +modestly. "In London it is of great value."</p> + +<p>In the small library he looked about him with +surprise. The plain, almost scanty furniture +of Tranter's house evidently did not accord +with his expectations of the residence of an +English Privy Councillor. Monsieur Dupont +sat down on a well-worn leather couch, and +stared, somewhat blankly, at the rows of dull, +monotonous bindings in the simple mahogany +bookcases.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +He placed the drink Tranter mixed for him +on a small table by his side, accepted a cigar, +and puffed at it serenely. And in that position, +Monsieur Victorien Dupont presented a +pleasing picture of elephantine geniality. He +was so large that his presence seemed to fill +half the room. His great face was one tremendous +smile. His eyes, though capable of +a disconcertingly direct gaze, were clear and +even childlike. His English was perfect, his +evening-dress faultless, and, though obviously +a <i>bon-viveur</i>, he was also unmistakably a man +with a purpose.</p> + +<p>"And what has brought you to London?" +Tranter asked, sitting opposite to him.</p> + +<p>"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "I am +here with a remarkable object. I have come to +use the eyes the good God has given me. And +to do so I beg the assistance of the great position +the good God has given you."</p> + +<p>"I hope," Tranter returned, "that what you +require will enable me to make some sort of return +to the man who saved my life."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont waved his hands in a gigantic +gesture.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +"To restore to the world one of its great +men—it was a privilege for which I, myself, +should pay! The service I ask of you is +small."</p> + +<p>"You have but to name it," said the Privy +Councillor.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Suddenly there was no smile on Monsieur +Dupont's face. Without the smile it was a +very much less pleasant face.</p> + +<p>"Two years ago, in my own country," his +voice acquired a new snap, "some one asked +me a riddle."</p> + +<p>"A riddle?" Tranter echoed, surprised at the +change.</p> + +<p>"A very strange riddle. Unfortunately, I +cannot tell you what it was. I cannot tell any +one what it was. I undertook to find the answer. +From France the riddle took me far +away to another country—and there, after a +year's work, I found half the answer. The +other half is in London. And I am in London +to find it."</p> + +<p>"This is interesting," said Tranter, smiling +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +slightly at the huge Frenchman's intense seriousness.</p> + +<p>"You, my friend, can help me."</p> + +<p>"I am at your service," the other promised.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont half-emptied his glass, and +the smile began to reappear on his face in +gradual creases. In a moment the shadow had +vanished. He laughed like a jolly giant.</p> + +<p>"Ah, forgive me! I had almost committed +the crime to be serious. It is a fault that is +easy in your London."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do for you?" +Tranter asked.</p> + +<p>"I want," said Monsieur Dupont, "to be +taken with you, as your friend from Paris, to +one or two society functions—where I may be +likely to meet ... what I seek."</p> + +<p>Tranter was somewhat taken aback.</p> + +<p>"Unconsciously," he returned—"though of +course, I will make it my business to fulfill your +wishes—you have really asked me a difficult +thing. No man goes less into society than I +do. Most people have given up inviting me."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," said Monsieur Dupont again. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +"I had imagined I should be asking a thing the +most simple."</p> + +<p>"So you are," Tranter assured him. "The +fault is with me. Where women are concerned +I am utterly hopeless. I fly from a +pretty woman as you might fly from a crocodile."</p> + +<p>"An ugly woman," said Monsieur Dupont, +"is the real friend of man—if he would but +know it."</p> + +<p>"The dull family dinners of dull family people +are the only 'functions' I ever attend. +However, let me see what can be done for you." +Tranter rose, and with an amused expression +began to sort out a small pile of cards on the +mantel-piece.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont smiled on. He emptied +his glass, and inhaled the smoke of his excellent +cigar with all the enjoyment of a satisfied +connoisseur. His glance played from one +article of furniture to another, from the floor +to the ceiling, from bookcase to bookcase, from +picture to picture. The very plainness of the +room seemed to fascinate him. His gaze +sought out the ugliest picture, and became fixed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +on it. Tranter turned over all the cards, and +shrugged his shoulders helplessly.</p> + +<p>"In a couple of days I shall be able to fix +you up a dozen times over," he said. "But +I am afraid I have scarcely anything to offer +you for to-morrow night. Why didn't you +drop me a line in advance?"</p> + +<p>"Let us dispense with to-morrow night, +then," said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>Tranter ran through the cards again.</p> + +<p>"There is a dinner at Lord Crumbleton's—which +I have too much regard for you to suggest. +The Countess is a most estimable lady, +who has spent the last fifteen years in vain attempts +to become unfaithful to her husband, +and now reads the Apocrypha all day for stimulation. +You could dine with a high-church +clergyman who absolves sins, or an actor-manager +who commits them. But stay——" +he paused quickly. "I forgot. There is +something else." He sorted out a card. +"Here is a possibility of amusement that had +escaped me."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>"George Copplestone has favored me wit +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +an invitation to a select gathering at his house +at Richmond, which would be very much more +likely to provide answers to riddles. I never +accept Copplestone's invitations on principle—although +he goes on sending them. But, if +you like, I will break my rule, and take you. +It is sure to be entertaining, if nothing more."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont bowed his gratitude. +Tranter replaced the cards, and returned to his +seat.</p> + +<p>"Copplestone is a remarkable individual, +who has learnt what a multitude of sins even a +slight financial connection with the Theater +will cover. He puts various sums of money +into the front of the house to gain unquestioned +admission to the back. He has an +extraordinary taste for fantasy, and is always +startling his friends with some new eccentricity. +He is not generally considered to be a +desirable acquaintance—and certainly no man +in London has less regard for the conventions."</p> + +<p>"To confine myself to desirable acquaintances," +said Monsieur Dupont, "would be my +last wish."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +"Then we will go to Richmond to-morrow +night. He lives in a very strange house, in a +stranger garden—the sort of place that no +ordinary normal person could possibly live in. +And I warn you that you will find nothing +ordinary or normal in it. If you are interested +in some of the unaccountable vagaries of human +nature, you will enjoy yourself."</p> + +<p>"The unaccountable vagaries of human nature," +said Monsieur Dupont, "are the foundation +of my riddle."</p> + +<p>"Then," Tranter returned, "I could give +you no better chance to solve it. In addition, +you will probably make the acquaintance of a +certain pretty society widow, who wants to +marry him because of his vices, and one or two +other well-known people who owe him money +and can't afford to refuse to dine with him. +Also, as the invitation is an unusually pressing +one, we can rely on the introduction of +some unexpected freaks for our entertainment."</p> + +<p>"It is arranged," Monsieur Dupont declared, +"I go with you to Richmond."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Tranter agreed. "Call for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +me here at eight o'clock, and we will go. Help +yourself to another drink."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont helped himself to another +drink.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Crooked House</span></p> + + +<p>It was no unusual thing for George Copplestone +to spring surprises on his guests. +He had a twisted sense of the dramatic, +and twisted things were expected from +him. On some occasions he perpetrated the +wildest and most extravagant eccentricities, +without the slightest regard for the moral or +artistic sensibilities of those on whom he imposed +them—on others he contented himself +with less harrowing minor freaks—but the object +of thoroughly upsetting and confounding +the mental balances of his victims was invariably +achieved. He delighted, and displayed +remarkable ingenuity, in providing orgies of +the abnormal. He reveled in producing an +atmosphere of brain-storm, and in dealing +sledge-hammer blows at the intellects of his +better balanced acquaintances. Often he was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +in uncontrollable spirits—on fire with mental +and physical exuberance—sometimes he was +morose and silent, and apparently weak. Frequently +he disappeared for considerable periods, +and his house appeared to be closed. +But none saw his coming or going.</p> + +<p>Strange rumors circulated about him from +time to time. Certain social circles, to which +his wealth and position entitled him to the +entrée, were closed to him. Over and above +his wild extravagancies, he was credited with +vices that remained unnamed. It was said +that things took place in his house that sealed +the lips of men and women. When his name +was mentioned in the clubs, some men +shrugged their shoulders. When it was spoken +in the drawing-rooms, some women remained +silent. There had been an attempt to stab +him, and twice he had been shot at. After +the second attempt, a woman had been heard +to say bitterly that he must bear a charmed +life. He continued to pursue his strange ways +with supreme indifference to the opinions of his +fellow-creatures.</p> + +<p>The house he lived in was the only sort of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +house he could have lived in. From the +foundations to the topmost brick it was a mass +of bewildering crookedness. Nothing was +straight. Not a single passage led where it +would have been expected to lead—not a +staircase fulfilled normal anticipations. +Scarcely two windows in the whole building +were the same size—scarcely two rooms were +the same shape—and not even two contortions +corresponded. There must have been a mile +of unnecessary corridors, dozens of incomprehensible +corners and turnings, and at least a +score of unwanted entrances and exits. If +the aim and object of the architect, whoever +he was, had been to reduce the unfortunate +occupants of his handiwork to a condition of +hopeless mental entanglement, he could not +have created a more effective instrument for +the purpose. George Copplestone found it a +residence after his own heart, and delighted +in the means it provided for gratifying his feverish +inspirations.</p> + +<p>The room into which John Tranter and +Monsieur Victorien Dupont were ushered at +eight-thirty on the following night presented +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +an extraordinary spectacle of lavish and indiscriminate +decoration, arriving at a general +suggestion of something between a Royal visit +and preparations for a wildly enthusiastic +Christmas. Flags and festoons, flowers, real +and imitation, fairy-candles and colored lamps, +burning with strange heavy scents, quaint fantastic +shapes of paper, startlingly illuminated—all +massed into an indescribable disorder of +light and color. Five amazed people were +awaiting further developments.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Astley-Rolfe was a charming widow of +twenty-seven, who had successfully gambled +on her late husband's probable lease of life, and +was now in the throes of a wild attachment to +George Copplestone, to which he had shown +himself by no means averse. She was somewhat +languid from an excess of luxury, unable +to brook opposition even to a whim, and as yet +undefeated in the attainment of her desires, +which were not, perhaps, always to the credit +of her sex. She had an insufficient income, +and a weakness for inscribing her signature on +stamped slips of paper, several of which, it was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +rumored, were in Copplestone's possession. +Her house in Grosvenor Gardens was an artistic +paradise, and was frequently visited by +gentlemen from Jermyn Street, who seemed +fond of assuring themselves that its treasures +remained intact.</p> + +<p>A West-End clergyman, of Evangelical appearance, +who translated French farces under +a <i>nom-de-plume</i>, was advocating, in confidence, +the abolition of the Censor to a well-known +theatrical manager, whose assets were all in +the name of his wife. A bejeweled Russian +danseuse, who spoke broken English with a +Highland accent, extolled the attractions of +theatrical investment to a Hebrew financier, +who was feasting his eyes on the curves of her +figure, and hoping that she was sufficiently +hard-up. The entrance of Tranter and his +huge companion created general surprise. +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe held up her hands prettily.</p> + +<p>"You?" she exclaimed, to Tranter. "You—of +all people—condescending to visit our plane? +The mystery is explained at once. The decorations +are for you—the Pillar of the State!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +"Indeed they are not," he assured her. He +stood aside. "Permit me to introduce my +friend, Monsieur Dupont."</p> + +<p>"This is delightful!" she smiled.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont bent over her hand.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he declared, "I change completely +my opinion of London."</p> + +<p>"Where is Copplestone?" Tranter inquired, +gazing with amazement round the festooned +room.</p> + +<p>A frown passed over Mrs. Astley-Rolfe's +face.</p> + +<p>"He has not yet appeared. He sent in a +message asking us to wait for him here. He +is up to some freak obviously."</p> + +<p>"It is certainly a strange medley of color," +Tranter admitted. "Fortunately, I am not +particularly susceptible—but to an artistic +temperament I can understand that the effect +would be acute. What extraordinary event +can such a blaze be intended to celebrate?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she returned, a little shortly. +"He has told us nothing."</p> + +<p>Her eyes strayed anxiously to the door. +The movements of her hands were nervous.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +"I wish he would come," she muttered—and +stood away from them.</p> + +<p>Tranter drew his companion across the +room.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked, smiling. "How do you +like this somewhat showy welcome?"</p> + +<p>"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont slowly—"into +what manner of house have you +brought me?"</p> + +<p>"Copplestone is a curious fellow," Tranter +replied. "I warned you to be prepared for +something unusual."</p> + +<p>"It is a crooked house," said Monsieur Dupont. +"It stands on a crooked road, and there +are crooked paths all round it. And everything +is crooked inside it."</p> + +<p>"These decorations are crooked enough, at +any rate," Tranter laughed.</p> + +<p>"These decorations," said Monsieur Dupont, +"are not only crooked—they are bad. Very +bad."</p> + +<p>He lowered his voice. There was a gleam +of excitement in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see," he whispered, "that decorations +can be good or bad, just as men and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +women can be good or bad? These decorations +are bad. They are a mockery of all decorations—a +travesty the most heartless of the motives +for which good and pure people decorate. +There is nothing honest or straightforward +about them. They are a mean confusion of all +the symbols of joy. They are put up for some +cruel and detestable purpose——"</p> + +<p>The door flew open with a snap, and a young +man of dishevelled appearance burst into the +room. His eyes were wild, and his face was +working with the intensity of his passion.</p> + +<p>"Christine," he panted. "Christine...."</p> + +<p>He stopped, and gazed round in a dazed +fashion, clenching and unclenching his hands.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Astley-Rolfe sprang forward with a +suppressed cry, and confronted him tensely.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she cried sharply—"what about +Christine?"</p> + +<p>He did not seem to be aware of her. He was +staring at the flags, the lights, the flowers, and +the colored paper.</p> + +<p>"It is true then," he muttered. "These +things...."</p> + +<p>The woman was as white as death. Her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +hands were locked together. She swayed.</p> + +<p>"What is true?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>The young man took no notice of her. Copplestone's +elderly manservant appeared in the +doorway, and approached him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Copplestone declines to see you, sir—and +requests that you will leave his house. I +have orders, otherwise, to send for the police."</p> + +<p>The young man drew himself up. He was +suddenly quite composed and dignified. The +passion died out of his face, leaving an expression +almost of contentment in its place.</p> + +<p>"I wish it to be understood," he said, addressing +himself to the room generally with +perfect evenness, "that, rather than allow +Christine Manderson to become engaged to +George Copplestone, I will tear her to pieces +with my own hands, and utterly destroy her." +And he turned, and walked quietly out of the +room.</p> + +<p>In the silence that followed all eyes were +fixed on the white, rigid woman. Her face +was drawn and haggard. She seemed to have +grown old and weak. Her whole frame appeared +to have shrunk under an overwhelming +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +blow. For some moments she stood motionless. +Then, with a supreme effort of self-control, +she turned, and faced them steadily.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said calmly, "that if Miss +Manderson is in the house she should be +warned."</p> + +<p>"Fellow was mad," said the theatrical manager.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tout-a-fait</i> daft," agreed the Russian danseuse.</p> + +<p>"It would have been safer," Tranter remarked, +"if he had been given in charge."</p> + +<p>There was something very like contempt in +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe's glance.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she said quietly, "that that +young man is a millionaire who lives on a +pound a week, and spends the remaining nine +hundred and ninety-nine pounds a week on +saving lives and souls in places in London that +people like us try to avoid even hearing about? +If it is madness to devote your life and money +to lifting some of the world's shadows—then +he is very mad."</p> + +<p>"Mosth creditable," said the Hebrew financier.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +She turned her back on them, and stood +apart.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont laid a hand on Tranter's +arm.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said—and there was the +faintest tremor in his voice, "I ask you again—into +what manner of house have you brought +me?"</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to wish that I had <i>not</i> +brought you," Tranter returned. "I don't like +the atmosphere."</p> + +<p>"That," said Monsieur Dupont, drawing +him aside, "is where we differ. To me the atmosphere +is extremely interesting. If I were +a sportsman, I would make you a bet that this +will be an eventful evening."</p> + +<p>"I feel strongly," said Tranter seriously, +"that we should be wise to leave. We don't +want to be mixed up in an affair with a madman."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont shook his head.</p> + +<p>"The millionaire was not mad, my friend. +He may have been mad yesterday. He may +be mad to-morrow. But he is very sane to-night."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +"I don't like it," Tranter maintained. "I +would much rather go. Events under this +roof have a trick of being a little too dramatic."</p> + +<p>Laughter from the clergyman, the financier, +and the danseuse, greeted the conclusion of a +story with which the theatrical manager had +attempted to relieve the strain. Monsieur Dupont +drew Tranter still further back.</p> + +<p>"This Mademoiselle Manderson—do you +know her?"</p> + +<p>"No," Tranter replied. "I've never heard +of her. I suppose she is some new friend of +Copplestone's. If she is really engaged to him, +I don't think she is altogether to be envied."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont's glance found Mrs. Astley-Rolfe.</p> + +<p>"No," he remarked softly—"I do not think +she is."</p> + +<p>Two heavy curtains at the extreme end of +the room were drawn apart, and the figure of +a man appeared between them—a tall, thick-set +man, in full evening-dress, with a large white +flower in his button-hole. For a moment he +stood still, looking intently down the room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +"Copplestone," Tranter whispered to his +companion.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>," muttered Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>It was the face of a fanatic—wonderful, +fascinating, cruel—a fanatic who neither +feared God nor regarded man—an infinite +egotist. The fires of a great distorted soul +smoldered in his eyes. The broad, lofty forehead +proclaimed a mind that might have placed +him among the rulers of men—but instead he +was little above the level of a clown. The +destinies of a nation might have rested in the +hands that he turned only to selfish fantasy. +The whole appearance of him, arresting and +almost awe-inspiring as it undoubtedly was, +had in it the repulsiveness of the unnatural—and, +with that, all the tragedy of pitiful waste.</p> + +<p>To-night, he confronted his guests in an +attitude, and with an air, of triumph. But as +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe turned quickly to him with +something of a challenge in her bearing, a faint +mocking smile appeared and lingered for a +moment on his face. Then he moved aside, +his hand on the curtains.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said deliberately, +"permit me to present you to my fiancée—Miss +Christine Manderson."</p> + +<p>He drew the curtains apart.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>," said Monsieur Dupont again.</p> + +<p>A half-strangled sob came from the lips of +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe. Tranter uttered an exclamation. +The danseuse, the clergyman, and +the theatrical manager burst into vigorous applause.</p> + +<p>Framed in the darkness behind him was the +white form of a woman, of transcendent loveliness. +In the soft light it seemed almost a +celestial figure. She smiled with entrancing +sweetness, and held out her hands.</p> + +<p>But as her gaze swept over the occupants of +the room, the smile vanished. Her eyes became +fixed and staring; her face set. She uttered +a sharp cry—and fell forward in a dead +faint.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Endless Garden</span></p> + + +<p>Confusion followed. Copplestone +knelt beside her, calling her by name +in a strange excess of fear. The +theatrical manager tore a flask from +his pocket, and administered its contents freely. +The spirit revived her. She opened her eyes. +They lifted her gently, and laid her on a couch.</p> + +<p>"It was that madman rushing in unnerved +her," Copplestone cried fiercely. "Wish I'd +called in the police. Curse him!"</p> + +<p>Her hand closed on his. "No, no," she +whispered. "He must not be touched. He +didn't mean it."</p> + +<p>"Mean it be damned!" said Copplestone +savagely. "If I see any more of him, he'll +find himself in jail in less time than it takes to +say it."</p> + +<p>The manager proffered further stimulant. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +The color began to return to her face, but her +eyes were wide and strained. Copplestone +watched her closely.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said the manager, re-corking +his empty flask, "she'd better rest. Let's all +clear off, and go on with this another night."</p> + +<p>"Thertainly," agreed the financier.</p> + +<p>But Christine Manderson rose, and leant on +Copplestone's arm. Her self-control was exerted +to the utmost, but she trembled.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," she said softly. "I am all +right now. Please don't go."</p> + +<p>"Good!" Copplestone exclaimed, recovering +his equanimity. "It would be a pity to break +up. We'll have a jolly night." He laughed +loudly. "Tranter, of all people!" he cried +boisterously. "And——" he looked towards +Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>"I was sure you wouldn't mind my bringing +a friend with me," Tranter said. "Monsieur +Dupont has just arrived from Paris."</p> + +<p>"Delighted," said Copplestone, shaking +hands with great heartiness. "Forgive this +unhappy beginning. We'll make up for it now. +Come along to dinner. It's all ready."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +In the dining-room they sat down to a table +that glittered and gleamed with a hundred +lights, concealed under strands of white crystallized +leaves, springing from a frosted tree. +Such a table might have been set in Fairyland, +for the betrothal feast of Oberon.</p> + +<p>"Glad we didn't miss this," said the theatrical +manager.</p> + +<p>He regaled the company with a selection of +his less offensive stories, and found ready applause. +The gayety was loud and forced. +Every one attempted to keep it at fever-heat. +Jest followed jest with increasing rapidity. +Laughter rang out on the smallest provocation. +It was a competition in hilarity. And +the gayest of all were Christine Manderson, +and Mrs. Astley-Rolfe.</p> + +<p>The night was hot and sultry. The distant +roll of thunder added to the tenseness of the +atmosphere. And hearing it, Christine Manderson +shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Storms are unlucky to me," she said, listening +until the sullen roll died away. "Why +should we have one to-night—of all nights?"</p> + +<p>The clergyman adroitly twisted the subject +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +of lightning into a compliment. As the dinner +drew to a somewhat loud conclusion, Copplestone's +face grew flushed, and his hands unsteady. +The manager's voice and stories +thickened, and the thoughts of the Russian +danseuse became fixed on Aberdeen. Tranter +and Monsieur Dupont were abstemious guests. +But the Frenchman seemed to be enjoying himself +immensely.</p> + +<p>They rose from the fairy table, and strolled +out through the open windows into the garden. +The air had grown hotter and more oppressive, +the thunder louder. Frequent flashes lit up +the darkness.</p> + +<p>The glowing tips of cigars and cigarettes +disappeared in various directions across the +lawns.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont discovered, to his cost, the +truth of his remark that the house was surrounded +by crooked paths. The grounds were +a veritable maze. He had purposely slipped +away alone, and in five minutes was involved +in a network of twisting, thickly-hedged paths, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +all of which seemed only to lead still further +into the darkness.</p> + +<p>He stopped, and listened. He could hear +no voices. Not a sound, except the gathering +thunder, disturbed the silence. He was completely +cut off. Even the lights of the house +were hidden from him. He had turned about +so many times that he did not even know in +which direction it lay. Coupled with the effect +of what had happened in the house, the influence +of this tortuous garden was sinister and +unnerving. In the lightning flashes, now more +vivid and frequent, he tried in vain to determine +his position. He wandered about, trying +path after path, doubling back on his own +tracks—only to find himself more and more +helplessly lost.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nom de Dieu</i>," said Monsieur Dupont, in +despair.</p> + +<p>He halted suddenly, standing as still as a +figure of stone. On his right the hedge was +thick and high. He could see nothing. But +the whisper of a voice had reached him.</p> + +<p>The path took a sharp turn. He stepped +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +noiselessly on to the grass border, and crept +round, with wonderful agility for a man of his +size. The foliage gradually thinned, and +kneeling down he was able to listen and peer +through until the next flash should reveal what +lay beyond.</p> + +<p>The whisper thrilled with indescribable passion.</p> + +<p>"I love you. You are my body, my soul, +my god, my all. I love you—I love you—I +love you."</p> + +<p>It was the voice of Christine Manderson.</p> + +<p>Not a tremor escaped the listener. Parting +the leaves with a hand as steady as the ground +itself, he waited for the light.</p> + +<p>"I have no world but you—no thought but +you. I want nothing but you ... you ... +you." A sob broke her voice.</p> + +<p>"Go," the answer was almost inaudible in +its tenseness. "Go—and forget. I have nothing +for you."</p> + +<p>The lightning came. In a small open space +on the other side of the hedge it illuminated +the wild tortured face of Christine Manderson. +And standing before her, gripping both her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +hands and holding her away from him—John +Tranter.</p> + +<p>She struggled to bring herself closer to him.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were dead," she gasped.</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> dead," he answered. "I am dead to +you. Let me go."</p> + +<p>The listener could almost hear the effort of +her breathing.</p> + +<p>"I waited for you," she panted. "I was +broken. I had to seem happy—but my heart +was a tomb. You were all my life—all my +hope. I know I wasn't what I might have +been. I was what people call an adventuress. +But my love for you was the one great, true +thing of my life. Oh, why did you leave +me?"</p> + +<p>"For your own sake," he said slowly. "I +am no mate for such a woman as you."</p> + +<p>"My own sake?" she repeated. "My own +sake—to take from me the only thing I had—my +only chance?—to throw my life into the +shadows? My own sake ... to have made +me what I am?"</p> + +<p>"I would have spared you this meeting," he +returned, "if I had known. But the name +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +Christine Manderson was strange to me. I +had never heard it before."</p> + +<p>"I changed my name," she said sadly. "I +couldn't bear that any one should use the name +that you had used. I called myself Christine +Manderson, and went on the stage in New +York. Oh, it was dreadful. All those long +years since you left me I have lived under a +mask—as you have seen me to-night. You +thought I was smiling—but I didn't smile. +You thought I was laughing—but I didn't +laugh. It was all ... only disguised tears +... to hide myself."</p> + +<p>"Go," his voice was torn. "For God's sake +go ... Thea."</p> + +<p>A second flash showed them again to the +listener. Tranter was still holding her away +from him. In that vivid fraction of a second +the agony of her face was terrible.</p> + +<p>"Thea!" she echoed pitifully. "Ah, yes—call +me Thea! Poor Thea! Oh, doesn't +that name awaken ... something? Hasn't +it still some charm? Once you said it was the +only name in all the world. Is it nothing to +you now?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +"Nothing," he answered.</p> + +<p>In spite of his resistance she was forcing +herself nearer to him. The magic of her presence +was binding him.</p> + +<p>"Am I less beautiful?" she whispered. +"Have I lost anything that used to draw you? +Is not my hair as golden? Are not my eyes +as bright—my lips as red? Am I not as soft +to touch? Where could you find anything better +than me?"</p> + +<p>"Keep back!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>Her hands were about him. In the darkness +he could feel the deadly loveliness of her face +almost touching his own. He was yielding, +inch by inch. The warmth of her breath ... +the perfume of her body.... Her closeness +was intoxicating—maddening.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let me come to you," she prayed. "I +will follow you barefooted to the end of the +world. I will live for you—slave for you—die +for you. Only let me come. Let me leave +all this—and come to you ... to-morrow...."</p> + +<p>A groan was wrung from him. He crushed +her to him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +"Come then!" he cried desperately. "Come, +if you will!..."</p> + +<p>A vivid flash, which seemed to burst almost +over their heads, showed them locked in each +other's arms, their lips pressed together.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont raised himself quickly. +There was the sound of running footsteps on +the path behind him. Monsieur Dupont had +just time to turn the corner before the disordered +figure of the theatrical manager loomed +up before him.</p> + +<p>"The madman is in the garden! He ran +this way."</p> + +<p>"<i>Diable!</i>" said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>"I found him sneaking towards the house. +He bolted out here."</p> + +<p>Unaccustomed to physical exertion, the +manager laid a heavy hand on Monsieur Dupont's +shoulder, and mopped his forehead +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel means mischief," he declared. +"He must be found."</p> + +<p>"Where is Mr. Copplestone?"</p> + +<p>"I called him, but couldn't get an answer. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +He must be away at the other end of the garden."</p> + +<p>"No one has passed this way," Monsieur +Dupont assured him. "For a half-hour I have +been wandering about these horrible paths."</p> + +<p>"It's a devil of a garden," the manager admitted. +"The fellow won't get very far. +Let's look about here."</p> + +<p>Fortified with a fresh supply of breath, he +released Monsieur Dupont's shoulder, and +made a brisk movement towards the direction +from which the Frenchman had come.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont blocked the way.</p> + +<p>"No, no—it would be a waste of time. I +have come from there."</p> + +<p>"To the river, then," the manager cried, +bearing him round. "He may be trying to get +across."</p> + +<p>He was evidently familiar with the intricacies +of the garden. In a few minutes, after a +dozen turnings, they reached the gleam of +water.</p> + +<p>"Keep your eyes open for the next flash," +the manager directed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +He peered about. A moment later the +lightning lit up the calm stretch of the river +and the broad lawns sloping down to it. Monsieur +Dupont detected no form or movement—but +with a startling shout, the manager +bounded away from him across the lawns.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont blinked after him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>He was alone again—in a new and even +darker part of the endless garden.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Destruction</span></p> + + +<p>A deep-toned clock in the house +struck twelve.</p> + +<p>Rain began to fall. A few moments +later the financier hurried +across the lawns with his collar turned up. +The danseuse followed him. She seemed a +disappointed and indignant woman.</p> + +<p>"It's almost an insult," she complained overtaking +him.</p> + +<p>"Noth a penny more," said the financier +firmly.</p> + +<p>They both turned quickly. Her hand +gripped his arm convulsively. Wild shouting +arose in the darkness, and the sound of someone +forcing a headlong way through hedge and +bush.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Percival Delamere was rushing +towards the house as if the entire penalties +of sin were at his heels.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +"A corpse! A corpse by the river! Miss +Manderson has been murdered!"</p> + +<p>The danseuse uttered a terrified cry. The +financier shook.</p> + +<p>"Murderedth?" he gasped, shrinking back.</p> + +<p>The clergyman was shattered by horror.</p> + +<p>"By the river ... almost torn to pieces...."</p> + +<p>The danseuse screamed loudly. A figure +bounded up behind them, and a hand seized +the clergyman's throat in a savage grip. The +furious, distorted face of George Copplestone +glared down at him. He struggled, freeing +himself with all his strength.</p> + +<p>"Copplestone," he choked, "something dreadful +has happened to Miss Manderson. I found +her by the river ... horribly torn...."</p> + +<p>From another direction, Tranter reached +them, breathless.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter? What has happened?"</p> + +<p>The financier clung to him.</p> + +<p>"Mith Manderthon ... murderedth."</p> + +<p>Tranter shook him off, and stood very still. +The agony on his face passed unnoticed. As +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +the theatrical manager and Mrs. Astley-Rolfe +arrived at a run, Copplestone, with a sound like +the cry of a raging animal, grasped the unhappy +clergyman by the arm, and dashed off +towards the river.</p> + +<p>The others followed. They found her lying +a few yards from the water's edge. The +manager struck a match, and they looked +down.</p> + +<p>The danseuse shrieked, and fainted. Mrs. +Astley-Rolfe sank on her knees, sobbing, and +covered her face with her hands. The financier +sickened, and turned away, trembling +violently.</p> + +<p>"God!" Tranter cried—"some one must have +stamped on her!"</p> + +<p>He bent down. "Thea...." he whispered.</p> + +<p>Something like a sob shook him. But the +others did not see.</p> + +<p>"It must have been a wild beast," shuddered +the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"It is the work of a madman," said the manager +hoarsely. "He has utterly destroyed her—as +he threatened."</p> + +<p>George Copplestone stood without a tremor. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +As he looked down at the broken form all his +frenzy disappeared. The distortion of his first +fury faded from his face, leaving it set in a +pallid, lifeless mask. He contemplated the +dreadful destruction at his feet without a sign +of horror, or even of pity. He was perfectly +steady. Not a quiver escaped him. Stooping +down, he asked quietly for assistance to carry +the body to the house.</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit," said the manager, looking at +him curiously. "She ought not to be moved +before the police come."</p> + +<p>Copplestone straightened himself, and remained +silent.</p> + +<p>"Let Gluckstein take the women in, and telephone +to the Police Station," the manager suggested.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Astley-Rolfe raised her bloodless face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she sobbed. "Let me go. It's +too horrible. I can't bear it."</p> + +<p>Tranter raised her up. The danseuse had +recovered consciousness, and was crying hysterically. +Suddenly the financier startled +them in a thin high voice, pointing a shaking +finger into the darkness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +"Someone ith moving! Out there behind +uth! Whoth there? Whoth there?"</p> + +<p>They swung round, straining their eyes into +the blackness.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" the manager called.</p> + +<p>An answering voice reached them. The +manager struck another match. On the edge +of the darkness they saw an enormous figure.</p> + +<p>"It's Monsieur Dupont!" Tranter cried.</p> + +<p>"My friends," exclaimed Monsieur Dupont, +"at last I find you! What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Copplestone looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>"The matter," he said evenly, "is that Miss +Manderson has been murdered."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont uttered an extraordinary +exclamation. He was instantly galvanized +into a condition of seething energy. With +what was almost a snarl, he brushed the +financier aside, and reached the white mangled +form on the ground.</p> + +<p>For a tense minute he knelt beside it. The +others waited.</p> + +<p>"Destroyed," they heard him mutter—"utterly +destroyed...."</p> + +<p>When he rose, his eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +"It is terrible. Who was with her last?"</p> + +<p>"I was with her less than a quarter of an +hour ago," Tranter replied. "She said she +was going back to the house, and asked me to +find Mr. Copplestone, and tell him that she was +not feeling well."</p> + +<p>"Where are your police?" asked Monsieur +Dupont.</p> + +<p>"Gluckstein is going to take the ladies back +to the house, and telephone for them," the manager +returned.</p> + +<p>The financier departed with his charges. +The four men remained, facing each other over +the dead body. Rain was falling heavily.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl," said the clergyman huskily.</p> + +<p>"That such a brute should be at large," the +manager added.</p> + +<p>Copplestone's gaze again became rivetted to +the ground. He seemed unconscious of their +presence. He was like a man alone and dazed +in a strange world.</p> + +<p>Then the storm burst over them with all its +fury. The rain poured down in torrents, the +lightning was incessant. It was as if the +elements themselves, in their rage, were seeking +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +to complete the work of destruction.</p> + +<p>"We can't leave her out in this—police or +no police," the clergyman shivered.</p> + +<p>Copplestone bent down again. The manager +moved to assist, but Tranter put him aside, +and assisted Copplestone to lift the ghastly +burden in his arms. Then they picked their +way slowly along the winding paths to the +house.</p> + +<p>When they entered the decorated room, +Copplestone's strange immobility flashed upon +him with startling suddenness. Uttering a +oath, he placed what he had previously +been carrying with dull indifference roughly +on a couch, and hurled himself furiously +upon the confusion of decorations, tearing +and crushing everything into a smashed +heap on the floor. So overwhelming was his +violence that no one dared attempt to stop +him. He dashed the lights to the ground, and +rent the flags with appalling ferocity. In a +few moments a shattered pile was all that remained +of the medley of illumination. He +stood on the pile and ground his heels into it.</p> + +<p>Then all the energy was snuffed out of him +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +like the switching off of an electric current. +The dull heavy cloud descended on him again. +He stared vacantly at the others, shrugged his +shoulders slightly, and turned his back on +them.</p> + +<p>The silence remained unbroken until a loud +ringing at the front door bell announced the +arrival of the police.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copplestone</span></p> + + +<p>Detective-Inspector Fay +was an able and successful officer, +of international reputation, whose +achievements had placed a substantial +price on his head in most countries sufficiently +civilized to possess their criminal organizations. +His bag had included many famous +law-breakers, and, though now employed in +less strenuous directions, he was admitted to be +one of the most skilful and reliable of Scotland +Yard's unravelers of mystery. But, experienced +as he was, the inspector could not suppress +his horror and indignation when the +mutilated body of Christine Manderson was +uncovered to him.</p> + +<p>"What, in God's name, was there in this +garden to-night?" he demanded, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"A madman," the theatrical manager muttered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +The inspector's glance rested on him for +an instant, but passed on. He made no further +remarks during his examination—but when, +concluding it, he carefully replaced the covering +and turned again to the others, there was +a concentrated gleam in his eyes and a certain +set to his face that were known to bode ill +to the perpetrators of the deeds that inspired +them.</p> + +<p>"There can scarcely be a whole bone in her +body," he declared, regarding them all intently. +"Her face is smashed to pulp; some of the +hair has been wrenched from her head; and +even the bones of her fingers are broken. It is +the most brutal and disgusting crime I have +had the misfortune to meet with in the whole +of my thirty years experience."</p> + +<p>He gave a brief order to an attendant constable, +who moved to the door.</p> + +<p>"If you will kindly retire with the constable +to the next room," he requested, "I will take +a separate account from every one. Perhaps +Mr. Copplestone will give me his information +first."</p> + +<p>The constable marshalled them into an adjoining +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +room, which the danseuse filled with +complaints at this prolonged detention. Copplestone +remained behind. His dullness and +immobility had increased almost to a stupor.</p> + +<p>"She was engaged to marry me," he said, +in a slow lifeless tone, "since yesterday."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay seated himself at a table, and +opened his note-book.</p> + +<p>"We fully sympathize with you, Mr. Copplestone," +he said quietly, "and I am afraid +it is poor consolation to promise you that +justice shall be done on the inhuman criminal, +whoever it may be."</p> + +<p>"Justice?" Copplestone returned, in the same +weary, monotonous voice. "Of what use is +Justice? Can it call her back—or mend her +broken body?"</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, it cannot," the inspector +admitted. "But it is all humanity can do. +Will you answer a few questions, as clearly +and briefly as possible? The great thing in a +case like this is to lose no time at the beginning."</p> + +<p>Copplestone sat down, and passed an unsteady +hand across his forehead.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +"Go on," he said dully.</p> + +<p>"Where and when did you first meet Miss +Manderson?"</p> + +<p>"She came over from New York two months +ago, to play in a new piece at the Imperial. +I have an interest in the theater, and saw her +there for the first time about a week after her +arrival."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of her life and associations +in America?"</p> + +<p>"Very little. She was not communicative. +She only told me a few of her theatrical experiences."</p> + +<p>"So far as you know," the inspector proceeded, +"had she an enemy in this country—or +was there any one who could have wished +to harm her?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently there was," Copplestone returned. +"I did not know it until to-night."</p> + +<p>Mechanically, in the manner of one repeating +a lesson, he described the visit of the young +millionaire, and his threat against Christine +Manderson.</p> + +<p>"And the name of this young man?" the +inspector asked, bending over his note-book.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +"James Layton."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>"Layton? The man they call the Mad +Philanthropist?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Copplestone replied wearily. +"He may be."</p> + +<p>"James Layton is very well known to us," +the inspector said slowly. "He is a charitable +fanatic, who does more good in the East End +than all the Royally Patronized Associations +put together. But how in the world did he +come to know Miss Manderson?"</p> + +<p>"She never mentioned him to me," Copplestone +stated. "I had not heard of him until +he burst into this house to-night."</p> + +<p>The inspector made several notes.</p> + +<p>"He has educated and trained as his assistant +a particularly wild specimen of a coster +girl, who is madly in love with him...." +He closed his note-book with a snap. "You +say the words he used were that rather +than allow Miss Manderson to become engaged +to you, he would tear her to pieces with his +own hands, and utterly destroy her?"</p> + +<p>"So they told me," Copplestone answered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +heavily. "I was not in the room. I refused +to see him."</p> + +<p>"And he left quite quietly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did Miss Manderson show any particular +fear of the threat?"</p> + +<p>"She was very much upset, and fainted when +she came into the room. I should have sent +for the police at once, but she begged me not to, +and insisted that he didn't mean what he said. +I wish to God I hadn't listened."</p> + +<p>"So there was no doubt that she knew +him?"</p> + +<p>"No. She certainly knew him."</p> + +<p>"Afterwards, you say, he was seen in the +garden when you were all out after dinner?" +the inspector continued.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Who saw him?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bolsover, the theatrical manager, +found him sneaking about the house, and +chased him out in the direction of the crime."</p> + +<p>"Did any one see him, besides Mr. Bolsover?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently not. He says he called to me—but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +I had gone into the house to fill my cigarette-case, +and did not hear him."</p> + +<p>"He escaped from Mr. Bolsover, and was not +seen again?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Was there any one else," the inspector asked +slowly, "who might, for any reason, have entertained +unfriendly feelings towards Miss +Manderson?"</p> + +<p>Copplestone's glance sharpened a little under +the question.</p> + +<p>"I suppose there was," he admitted, with +some reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Who was it?"</p> + +<p>Copplestone paused, frowning.</p> + +<p>"Please do not hesitate," the inspector +pressed firmly. "We must know everything."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," the tired voice confessed, "it +wasn't altogether playing the game to announce +my engagement so unexpectedly to—to——"</p> + +<p>"Well?" the inspector insisted—"to whom?"</p> + +<p>"To Phyllis Astley-Rolfe."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment. The +inspector waited quietly. With an effort, +Copplestone continued.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +"I am afraid it was rather cruel. She'd +annoyed me lately, and I put up some decorations, +and announced the news in a dramatic +way ... to mock her." He broke off, staring +at the remains of the decorations on the +floor. "But I tore them down. I shall never +decorate again...."</p> + +<p>The inspector watched him closely. He +seemed to be on the verge of sleep.</p> + +<p>"Then Mrs. Astley-Rolfe had reason to be +jealous of Miss Manderson?" the inspector +demanded briskly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose ... she had."</p> + +<p>"Good reason?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"Had you given her definite cause to believe +that you intended to ask her to marry you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. At any rate ... I had not +given her definite cause to believe that I didn't."</p> + +<p>His voice sank to a whisper. He leant back +limply in his chair.</p> + +<p>"There is only one more question I need +trouble you with at present," the inspector said. +"Who was the last person to be with Miss Manderson +before the crime was discovered?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +Copplestone scarcely opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tranter was with her near the river. +She left him to go back to the house, and asked +him to find me, and tell me she was not +well."</p> + +<p>"Did he find you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And I at once went into the house."</p> + +<p>"Where were you when Mr. Tranter found +you?"</p> + +<p>"I was crossing the second lawn—towards +the tennis courts."</p> + +<p>The inspector was busy with his note-book.</p> + +<p>"Were you alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I had just come out of the house +after filling my cigarette-case, as I told you. +I was looking for Miss Manderson, and wondering +where she had got to. If only I had +gone in the right direction ... I might have +been in time...."</p> + +<p>"After Mr. Tranter had spoken to you, you +say you went into the house at once?"</p> + +<p>"At once. I waited nearly ten minutes for +her, and came out again just as Mr. Delamere +gave the alarm. I'm afraid I handled him +roughly...."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +The words trailed off into silence. A convulsive +shudder passed through him.</p> + +<p>"Then we all ran off ... to where she +lay," his voice shook. "Something seemed to +give way ... here...." he pressed his +hands to his head. "Is there ... anything +more ... you want to know?"</p> + +<p>The inspector rose.</p> + +<p>"Only one thing. Will you kindly give me +the names of your guests in the other room?"</p> + +<p>Copplestone complied slowly. Inspector Fay +wrote the names down.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said, laying down his book. +"I am sorry to have had to give you the pain +of answering so many questions. I am afraid +you are quite overwrought. I should advise +you to try to get some sleep."</p> + +<p>"Sleep," Copplestone murmured, rising +weakly from his chair. "Sleep.... Good +God."</p> + +<p>The inspector himself made a gesture of +fatigue.</p> + +<p>"I only got back from another heavy case +as your message came in," he apologized, +stifling a yawn. "Tobacco is the only thing +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +that keeps me going. Could you give me a +cigarette?"</p> + +<p>Without answering, Copplestone languidly +produced an elaborately jeweled gold cigarette-case, +and handed it to the inspector.</p> + +<p>There were two cigarettes in it.</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay took one, with a perfectly impassive +countenance, and returned the case. +Copplestone replaced it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Please give whatever instructions you like +to my man," he said dully—"and let me know +if you want me. I shall be in my room."</p> + +<p>He turned, and moved away with slow heavy +steps, disappearing between the same curtains +through which, a few hours before, he had +presented Christine Manderson to his guests.</p> + +<p>The inspector stood looking after him, fingering +the cigarette thoughtfully, a very curious +expression on his face. He showed no further +signs of fatigue.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why you lied to me," he muttered—and +laid the cigarette on the table.</p> + +<p>He glanced down the list of names, and went +to the door. The constable had mounted guard +over his prisoners with extraordinary dignity. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +The voice of the danseuse was still raised in +lamentation.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Dupont," the inspector called.</p> + +<p>The constable passed on the summons—and +Monsieur Dupont instantly obeyed it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Trail Of Corpses</span></p> + + +<p>The inspector closed the door behind +him. "What has brought you back +into the arena?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"A riddle," the Frenchman answered, +in an equally low tone.</p> + +<p>"It must have been something pretty big to +have tempted <i>you</i>," the inspector remarked, +coming closer to him.</p> + +<p>"It was," Monsieur Dupont admitted.</p> + +<p>The other glanced cautiously towards the +curtains at the far end of the room.</p> + +<p>"Why are you here—in this house?" he demanded +softly.</p> + +<p>"By chance," Monsieur Dupont replied.</p> + +<p>"Did you know Copplestone before?"</p> + +<p>"I did not. I had never seen him. I came +with my friend, Tranter."</p> + +<p>"You were here all the evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +"Anything to tell me?" the inspector asked, +looking at him intently.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont smiled.</p> + +<p>"Only, my friend, that I imagine you will +find it an interesting and somewhat unusual +case."</p> + +<p>"That's not enough—from you," the inspector +retorted.</p> + +<p>"If I may be permitted to advise—it is a +case in which you would do well to ignore the +obvious."</p> + +<p>"I want more than that," insisted the inspector.</p> + +<p>The huge Frenchman remained silent.</p> + +<p>"You are not a man to waste your time on +this kind of entertainment," said the inspector +slowly. "Is there any connection between the +crime to-night, and your so-called 'riddle'?"</p> + +<p>"The connection of death," said Monsieur +Dupont.</p> + +<p>There was something of awe in his voice and +manner.</p> + +<p>"For two years," he said, "I have been following +in the track of something, which, in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +the words of our great Dumas—'must have +passed this way, for I see a corpse.'"</p> + +<p>"That quotation referred to a woman," said +the inspector quickly.</p> + +<p>"From me," returned Monsieur Dupont +evenly, "it is sexless—at present."</p> + +<p>The inspector frowned.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said impatiently—"in what way +are you mixed up in this?"</p> + +<p>"In the way of my quotation—a corpse. I +started my quest two years ago—over a dead +body, torn and mutilated. At the end of the +first year I found another dead body, torn and +mutilated. I follow on and on—from one +point to the next point—often with no more +than the instinct of the hunter to guide me. +And here, at the end of the second year, there +is yet another dead body, torn and mutilated. +It is horrible. I sicken. I wish I had remained +in my retirement."</p> + +<p>"What were the two previous crimes?" the +inspector asked.</p> + +<p>"Two women—two very beautiful women."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay started, staring at him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +"Miss Manderson was a beautiful woman," +he said slowly.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont's enormous head nodded +several times.</p> + +<p>"She was," he agreed deliberately. "The +most beautiful of the three."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment. Then the +inspector laid a hand on the Frenchman's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"We have worked together a good many +times in the past," he said, with more cordiality +than before.</p> + +<p>"We have, indeed," Monsieur Dupont responded +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"And though your methods were always +fanciful compared with our's, I know enough +of your powers to ask you a simple, straight +question."</p> + +<p>"I am at your service," said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>"You were here on the spot when this crime +was committed. Who, or what, smashed the +body of that unfortunate woman to pulp in +this garden to-night?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont's gigantic form seemed to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +acquire a new, strange dignity—a solemnity—as +though he were in the presence, or speaking, +of something before which humanity must bow +its head.</p> + +<p>"A Destroyer," he whispered. "A Destroyer +who strikes with neither fear nor compunction—and +passes on without pity or remorse. +A Destroyer who is as old as the sins +of men, and as young as the futures of their +children."</p> + +<p>"You always spoke in parables," the inspector +exclaimed irritably. "What do you +mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean," said Monsieur Dupont, "that I +believe the thing which passed through this +crooked garden to-night, leaving death so +horribly behind it, is the same thing that has +already passed on twice before me, and left +the same death in its wake. I cannot tell you +any more. Let us both go our own ways, as +we have done so many times before. I do not +wish to take any credit in this affair. If I am +able to prove its connection with my own case, +and to solve it, I shall hand the whole matter +over to you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +The inspector appeared somewhat relieved.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont's eyes were fixed on an unframed +photograph of Christine Manderson, +which stood on a small cabinet in front of him.</p> + +<p>"Please compound a felony," he said softly—and +slipped it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Where are you to be found?" the inspector +asked.</p> + +<p>"At the Hotel Savoy." He yawned. "I +am very sleepy," he complained. "If you will +finish with Mr. Tranter as soon as possible, he +will take me back in his car."</p> + +<p>He turned to the door.</p> + +<p>"Stay," said the inspector.</p> + +<p>He stopped.</p> + +<p>"You have not lost your old fantastic kink," +said the inspector, with a faint smile. "The +last time we ran together you were five minutes +ahead of me at the finish. This time—we will +see who is the first to pass the post."</p> + +<p>"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "I will +do my best to give you a good race."</p> + +<p>He passed out of the room. The inspector +followed him to the door, and called for Mr. +Tranter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Tranter</span></p> + + +<p>"Mr. Tranter," said the inspector, +"I understand that you +were the last person to see Miss +Manderson alive."</p> + +<p>"I believe I was," Tranter replied.</p> + +<p>The inspector sat down again at the table, +and re-opened his note-book.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly tell me exactly what happened +from the time you went out into the +garden after dinner, and the time you left Miss +Manderson?"</p> + +<p>"We strolled away from the house together, +in the direction of the river. The events of +the evening seemed to have upset her very +much, and she was nervous of the storm. We +walked about, I should think, for nearly half +an hour, until the lightning became very +vivid——"</p> + +<p>"Did you see or hear any one in that part +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +of the garden?" the inspector interrupted.</p> + +<p>"No. Most of the others went to the lawns, +in the opposite direction. When the lightning +became very vivid, Miss Manderson said she +would return to the house, and asked me to +go down to the lawns to find Mr. Copplestone, +and send him in to her. She was obviously +unwell."</p> + +<p>"You will be able to show me the place +where you left her?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. It was very dark—but I remember +that we had just passed under a number +of rose-arches across the path."</p> + +<p>"It was, I presume, further away from the +house than the spot where the body was +found?"</p> + +<p>"The body was found close to the river, +about half-way between the house and the place +where I left her," Tranter replied.</p> + +<p>"So we may surmise that she had got about +half-way to the house before the attack was +made. How far would that actually be?"</p> + +<p>"Along those winding paths," Tranter calculated, +"I should say roughly about a hundred +and fifty yards."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +"Did she start to walk to the house immediately +you left her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She started in that direction as I +started in the other."</p> + +<p>"Then," mused the inspector, "she must have +met the criminal, whoever it was, at the most +within three minutes of leaving you?"</p> + +<p>"Presumably she must," Tranter agreed.</p> + +<p>"And was that," pursued the inspector, +"about the spot where she might have met the +young man, Layton, who was, it appears, being +chased out towards the river by Mr. Bolsover?"</p> + +<p>"It might be. But I do not know anything +about the chase. If I had known that Layton +was in the garden, I should not have left her."</p> + +<p>"Where did you find Mr. Copplestone?"</p> + +<p>"On the lawns."</p> + +<p>"How long after you parted from her?"</p> + +<p>"Only a few minutes. Four or five."</p> + +<p>"Was he alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He was looking for Miss Manderson +himself. He went into the house at once."</p> + +<p>Silence followed while the inspector added +to his notes.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tranter," he said quietly—and his eyes +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +rested for a moment on the cigarette on the +table, "I have only one suggestion to make. +You will understand that it is only a suggestion, +but I want to be perfectly clear. Considering +that this was the evening of Miss +Manderson's engagement to Mr. Copplestone, +might she not have been expected to have +strolled away from the house, and to have spent +that following half-hour, with him rather than +with you?"</p> + +<p>Tranter hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I suppose she might," he admitted.</p> + +<p>The inspector was looking at him sharply.</p> + +<p>"It is a small point," he said smoothly. +"Perhaps you can clear it up."</p> + +<p>There was another pause. Tranter was +plainly embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Inspector," he said at last, "I must, of +course, tell you everything—but I should be +obliged if for obvious reasons, you will keep as +much as possible to yourself."</p> + +<p>"That, sir," returned the inspector firmly, +"you must leave to my discretion."</p> + +<p>"I am content to do so," Tranter said. "The +truth is—I had met Miss Manderson before."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +"Ah!" said the inspector softly.</p> + +<p>"I knew her first nearly six years ago, in +Chicago. Her real name was not Christine +Manderson."</p> + +<p>The inspector's eyes began to brighten. He +turned to a fresh page in his note-book.</p> + +<p>"She took that name, she told me to-night, +when she went on the stage in New York. +She was really Thea Colville."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay started.</p> + +<p>"Thea Colville? The Chicago adventuress?"</p> + +<p>"I believe some people called her that," +Tranter returned shortly.</p> + +<p>"The woman who ruined Michael Cranbourne, +son of Joshua Cranbourne, the Nitrate +King?"</p> + +<p>"She had finished with Cranbourne before +I knew her," Tranter replied. "He was a +scoundrel. Whatever happened, she certainly +could not be blamed."</p> + +<p>The inspector was making rapid notes.</p> + +<p>"She was not so wild as she was painted," +Tranter continued. "Women with such beauty +as hers have a thousand temptations. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +sins of a beautiful woman are always many +degrees blacker than the sins of a plain one. +We became very intimate—and I am afraid I +allowed her to expect more from me than I +actually intended. I was called back to +England unexpectedly, and heard nothing +more of her until Mr. Copplestone brought her +into this room to-night."</p> + +<p>He stopped. Emotion had crept into his +voice.</p> + +<p>"During the most part of your conversation +with her, were you walking about, or standing +still?"</p> + +<p>"Standing still."</p> + +<p>"You have said that you did not hear any +one moving about near you while you were +speaking to her?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Were there trees or hedges about, where +some one might have hidden to overhear you?"</p> + +<p>"There was a hedge," Tranter replied. +"But I did not notice the spot particularly."</p> + +<p>"You will be able to point it out to me to-morrow."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +"I think so. As I say, I did not particularly +notice it—and the possibility of being overheard +certainly did not occur to me. I am +afraid at that moment caution was hardly a +consideration with either of us."</p> + +<p>The inspector closed his note-book.</p> + +<p>"Unless circumstances compel me to do +otherwise," he promised, "I will keep your story +to myself. Will you tell me whether the announcement +of Mr. Copplestone's engagement +to Miss Manderson produced a noticeable effect +on any particular person in the room? Please +do not hesitate to answer."</p> + +<p>"It certainly appeared to be unwelcome news +to Mrs. Astley-Rolfe," Tranter replied, "but +she very quickly recovered herself."</p> + +<p>"It seemed, in fact, to be a considerable shock +to her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Were you in the room when this young man, +James Layton, burst in?"</p> + +<p>"I was. Monsieur Dupont and I had just +arrived."</p> + +<p>"It is true that he said that rather than +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +allow Miss Manderson to become engaged to +Mr. Copplestone, he would tear her to pieces +with his own hands?"</p> + +<p>"Those were his exact words."</p> + +<p>The inspector rose.</p> + +<p>"I understand that you brought Monsieur +Dupont here with you as your friend?" he remarked +casually.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He only arrived in London last +night."</p> + +<p>"Do you know him well?"</p> + +<p>"Fairly," Tranter replied. "I am under a +great obligation to him. He saved my life +in Paris, a year ago."</p> + +<p>"Has he mentioned anything of the business +that has brought him to this country?" the +inspector asked, moving to the door.</p> + +<p>"Only that he had come to solve a strange +riddle."</p> + +<p>A faint, rather grim smile passed over the +inspector's face.</p> + +<p>"I am obliged to you, sir," he said, opening +the door. "If you will kindly return here at +ten o'clock in the morning—and bring Monsieur +Dupont with you—I shall ask you to show +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +me the various places you have referred to in +the garden."</p> + +<p>When Tranter returned to the waiting-room, +he found Monsieur Dupont asleep in an armchair. +The room was very quiet. The danseuse +had subsided into an interim condition +of mute tension. Mrs. Astley-Rolfe was +deathly white, but perfectly composed. The +men made occasional remarks to each other.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe," the inspector called.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Astley-Rolfe</span></p> + + +<p>"Madam," said the inspector, +placing a chair for her, "I need +only trouble you with one or +two questions. You will understand +that it is necessary for me to account +for each member of this party, so that I may +know which of them can, or cannot, assist me +in my investigations."</p> + +<p>She sat down with a weary movement. +Her hands trembled slightly.</p> + +<p>"It is very dreadful," she shuddered. "Such +a frightful crime is inconceivable. Who could +have hated the poor girl so dreadfully?"</p> + +<p>"That remains to be discovered," the inspector +returned quietly. "I have no doubt +we shall succeed in clearing it up."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will," she said fervently. +"Please ask me any questions you like."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +The inspector kept his eyes fixed on his note-book.</p> + +<p>"You went into the garden with the others +after dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Will you please tell me with whom, and +in what part of the garden, you passed the time +before the crime was discovered?"</p> + +<p>"I was alone," she said slowly.</p> + +<p>"The whole time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I was not feeling very well, and did +not want the trouble of talking. I walked +away by myself."</p> + +<p>"You know the way about the garden quite +well?"</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>"In what direction did you walk?"</p> + +<p>"To the croquet lawn."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anything of the others?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Or hear any voices?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Nothing until the alarm was given?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. It was an isolated part of the +garden. When I heard Mr. Delamere shouting, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +I ran back to the house, and found them +on the lawn."</p> + +<p>The inspector shot a keen glance at her.</p> + +<p>"Did you know Miss Manderson well?"</p> + +<p>"I had only met her three or four times."</p> + +<p>"I suppose—being one of the most beautiful +women on the American stage, and about to +appear for the first time in London—you heard +her a good deal talked about?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Her voice was just perceptibly +harder. "People were taking great interest +in her."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear her private affairs, and mode +of life, discussed at any time?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Or the name of James Layton, the millionaire +philanthropist, mentioned in conjunction +with her's?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, madam. I need not trouble +you any further. Will you kindly leave me +your address, in case I should have to ask you +for any more information?"</p> + +<p>He wrote the address down, and bowed her +out.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Danseuse</span></p> + + +<p>"Madame Krashoff," summoned +the inspector.</p> + +<p>The danseuse was in a condition +of the utmost distress.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!</i>" she wept.</p> + +<p>"Please calm yourself, madame," the inspector +requested patiently.</p> + +<p>"I ken nothin' o' the creeme!" she sobbed +thoughtlessly.</p> + +<p>"I am sure of that," he declared gravely. +"I merely wish to establish the movements of +every one here. With whom did you pass the +time after you went out into the garden until +the alarm was given?"</p> + +<p>"Wi' M'soo Gluckstein," she whimpered.</p> + +<p>"All the time?"</p> + +<p>"N-no."</p> + +<p>"How much of the time?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +She became more collected.</p> + +<p>"He said to me something that made me +angry," she replied, with a touch of viciousness. +"I walk away from him. Then it rain, and I +overtook him as I go back to the house."</p> + +<p>"How long were you away from him?" the +inspector asked.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, I cannot tell. Maybe ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"Did you see any one else?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"In what part of the garden were you when +you left him?"</p> + +<p>"Behind the tennis courts."</p> + +<p>"That is some way from the river?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—ver' far away."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, madame."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mr. Gluckstein</span></p> + + +<p>The financier was extremely agitated, +and tried to shake hands with the +inspector.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gluckstein, I understand +from Madame Krashoff that you were with her +in the garden for the greater part of the time +before the crime was discovered."</p> + +<p>"I wath," the financier quivered—"indeed I +wath, inthpector."</p> + +<p>"Then she left you for about ten minutes?"</p> + +<p>"Not tho much ath ten minutes," corrected +the financier hastily.</p> + +<p>"What did you do after she left you?"</p> + +<p>"I stayed vere I vath—until the rain commenthed."</p> + +<p>"Did you see any one else?"</p> + +<p>"No one at allth."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the inspector. "Please +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +leave me your address, in case I should want +to ask you any further questions."</p> + +<p>The financier produced a card with trembling +fingers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Clergyman</span></p> + + +<p>"Mr. Delamere," said the inspector, +"you discovered the +body?"</p> + +<p>"I did," replied the clergyman, +with a shiver.</p> + +<p>"Were you alone when you found it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I had been walking with Mr. Bolsover +for about quarter of an hour. Then he +turned back to find some of the others, and I +strolled on to the river."</p> + +<p>"Did you meet any one else?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You saw nothing of this young man, Layton, +who was chased towards the river by Mr. +Bolsover?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever."</p> + +<p>"No sounds of a struggle?"</p> + +<p>"No. I heard nothing."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +"Was the body lying in your path?"</p> + +<p>"No. Some distance aside. I saw something +white on the ground in one of the lightning +flashes, and went to see what it was."</p> + +<p>"I shall have to ask you to return here at +ten o'clock, to show me the exact spot."</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Delamere."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mr. Bolsolver</span></p> + + +<p>"My God!" exclaimed the manager, +"what an appalling business!"</p> + +<p>"It is," the inspector agreed +shortly.</p> + +<p>"She was to have appeared at my theater, +too," said the manager ruefully.</p> + +<p>"I understand that you found Layton sneaking +about the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I first strolled out with Mr. Delamere. +Then I left him, and went back to see +where the others had got to, and saw Layton +creeping round the side of the house towards +the open drawing-room windows. He heard +my footsteps on the path, and bolted."</p> + +<p>"To the river?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I shouted for Mr. Copplestone, but +there was no answer—so I followed him."</p> + +<p>"You are quite certain it was Layton?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +"Perfectly. I saw his face in the light of +the windows, and he was wearing the peculiar +kind of slouch hat he had carried when he +came into the room."</p> + +<p>"Apparently no one saw him in the garden +except yourself."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately not. I met the Frenchman, +Monsieur Dupont, a little way from the river—but +he had not seen him."</p> + +<p>"It was a pity you did not manage to catch +him," the inspector remarked.</p> + +<p>"Confound it, yes! But it was easy to get +away in such a garden as this. There wasn't +a chance of finding him."</p> + +<p>"What did you do, after meeting Monsieur +Dupont?"</p> + +<p>"We went on to the river together. I +thought I saw a movement among the trees +when the lightning lit them up—but there was +nothing. I walked round about there for a +few minutes, and then went back to warn Copplestone."</p> + +<p>"Leaving Monsieur Dupont by the river?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Before I reached the house, I heard +Mr. Delamere shouting the alarm."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +"Thank you," said the inspector, closing his +note-book. "I am afraid I shall have to trouble +you to come here at ten o'clock and show me +certain places in the garden."</p> + +<p>"I am entirely at your disposal," said the +manager.</p> + +<p>He went out. The inspector sat down at +the table, and remained perfectly still for half +an hour.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Trinity of Death</span></p> + + +<p>In Tranter's car, its owner and Monsieur +Dupont started, at half-past one, on their +return from the crooked house.</p> + +<p>The storm had passed, and the air was +fresh and cool. It was possibly the atmospheric +clearance which accounted for the fact, +that, however, fatigued he had been, or appeared +to be, at the end of his conversation +with the inspector, Monsieur Dupont was now +particularly wide-awake and alert.</p> + +<p>"<i>Dieu!</i>" he cried, "what a terrible crime! +Almost to tear that woman to pieces—to crush +her—to rend her! And what a woman! <i>Ma +foi</i>, what a woman!"</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Monsieur Dupont accepted +and lit a cigar from Tranter's case.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said quietly, "I wish to be +quite fair to you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +"Fair to me?" Tranter echoed, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Something happened to-night which you +doubtless believe to be unknown to every one +except yourself."</p> + +<p>Tranter turned to him quickly.</p> + +<p>"I have not the habit," Monsieur Dupont +continued, "of listening to private conversations +between other people. It is only on very +rare occasions that I have done so. I did so +to-night."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Tranter exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"In that horrible garden, before the crime +was committed," pursued Monsieur Dupont +evenly, "I lost my way. Such a garden must +have been especially designed to cause innocent +people to lose their way. I wandered about. +How I wandered!"</p> + +<p>"What did you overhear?" asked Tranter, in +a strained voice.</p> + +<p>"A conversation—between that unfortunate +Mademoiselle Manderson, and yourself."</p> + +<p>"You heard it?" Tranter cried sharply.</p> + +<p>"I heard it," admitted Monsieur Dupont. +"I heard a great part of it. I believe nearly +all. I should not have done so. Understand, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +I make you all my apologies. It was improper +to listen. But the storm, the surroundings, +the scene itself, excited me. I listened."</p> + +<p>Tranter remained silent.</p> + +<p>"I continued to listen, until Mr. Bolsover +found me. He was following that young man, +Layton. I went with him to the river."</p> + +<p>Tranter was still silent—staring straight in +front of him with fixed eyes.</p> + +<p>"You saw a picture of weakness," he said, +at last. "I am not proud of it. I should +much prefer to be able to think that no one +had seen it. I gave Inspector Fay an account +of the whole scene, and of my previous acquaintance +with Christine Manderson. He +promised to keep it to himself. I hope you +will do the same."</p> + +<p>"I shall indeed," the other assured him.</p> + +<p>"I am only human," Tranter went on, with +an effort—"more human than I thought. I +resisted her once by taking flight. I couldn't +resist her to-night."</p> + +<p>He mastered his emotion.</p> + +<p>"From the moment she first came into the +room I was helpless. I knew what would come +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +of it—but I couldn't tear myself away. It was +the whole spell—with all the new strength of +memories. I knew she intended to find me +alone in the garden." He paused. "I had to +let her."</p> + +<p>"Human nature," said Monsieur Dupont +consolingly, "is human nature."</p> + +<p>Silence followed. Monsieur Dupont +thoughtfully puffed at his cigar.</p> + +<p>"A crooked house in a crooked garden," he +said, at length, "is a combination from which +all honest people should shrink. Those who +frequent it must be, for the most part, crooked +people. They were, for the most part, crooked +people to-night."</p> + +<p>"It was a crooked evening from beginning +to end," Tranter said wearily.</p> + +<p>"It was a wicked evening," Monsieur Dupont +declared—"full of wicked thoughts. A +crime was the natural and logical end to such +an evening. It would have been surprising if +there had not been one."</p> + +<p>He smoked vigorously for some moments—then +made an expansive gesture.</p> + +<p>"Are there not," he demanded, "houses and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +gardens and thunder-storms that awaken cruel +and shameful impulses that would never be +aroused in other houses and other gardens and +other storms? Does not the influence of good +and noble decorations uplift us to joy and +patriotism? Why should not the influence of +mean and sinful decorations degrade us to murder +and destruction? The flags that fly over +the innocent revels of children are innocent +flags, and inspire kind feelings and happiness. +But remove the same flags to a Bull-ring, and +they become evil flags, inspiring lust for the +blood and slaughter of helpless creatures—the +basest of human instincts."</p> + +<p>"You are fantastic," said Tranter, with a +gloomy smile.</p> + +<p>"In fantasy," returned Monsieur Dupont, +"are the world's greatest truths."</p> + +<p>He carefully deposed the ash from his cigar.</p> + +<p>"Will you please tell me," he went on, "something +more about our strange host to-night—the +man who chooses so much crookedness to +live in, when there is straightness to be had for +the same price?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +"I know very little more about him than I +told you last night," Tranter replied. "He is +wealthy, and very eccentric. He seems to pass +his life in a perpetual effort to be different from +other people."</p> + +<p>"He is more than eccentric," Monsieur Dupont +stated. "He is mad. In a few years he +will be a dangerous lunatic. And the Good +God only knows what he may make of himself +in the meantime."</p> + +<p>"There are plenty of strange stories about +him," Tranter said. "But I have always +looked on them as greatly exaggerated."</p> + +<p>"Probably," Monsieur Dupont remarked, +"they were true."</p> + +<p>"Whatever his reputation may be, women +seem very ready to put up with his eccentricities, +or pander to them, in return, no doubt, +for big inroads into his banking account. He +is very free with his money where the opposite +sex is concerned."</p> + +<p>"It is always so," said Monsieur Dupont, +"with such men."</p> + +<p>"He mixes chiefly in theatrical and bohemian +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +circles—and often by no means the most +desirable of those. The better people look +askance on him—but he is supremely indifferent +to the opinions of others, and to all the +conventions. Whatever he takes it into his +head to do he does, quite regardless of the +approval or disapproval of other people. He +is certainly not a man I would introduce to any +woman who possessed even the smallest degree +of physical attraction. He is supposed to be +quite unscrupulous in the attainment of his +objects."</p> + +<p>"Most of us are," said Monsieur Dupont. +"But we dislike to admit it."</p> + +<p>He looked steadily out of the window for a +moment.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, turning back, "what he +does with the rest of that house."</p> + +<p>"The rest of the house?" Tranter repeated.</p> + +<p>"It is very large," said Monsieur Dupont. +"It is large enough for twenty men."</p> + +<p>"In this country," Tranter smiled, "there is +no law against one man living in a house large +enough for twenty, if he chooses."</p> + +<p>"When only a small part of a house is used +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +for ordinary purposes," remarked Monsieur +Dupont, "the remainder is often used for +extraordinary ones."</p> + +<p>"You know as much of the house as I do," +Tranter returned.</p> + +<p>"As a practical man," Monsieur Dupont +continued, "you may smile when I speak of +such a thing as 'psychic intuition.' But you +may smile, and again you may smile. I possess +that intuition strongly. It has been of great +use to me. The moment I entered that house +to-night, I knew it was a house of sin. I knew +there were hidden things in it—things that +were not for honest eyes to see. I do not say—at +present—that they have any connection +with the crime. But they are there."</p> + +<p>"I do not smile at such instincts," Tranter +said. "I quite admit that there is a strange, +uncanny atmosphere about the place. And if +there are secrets in it, I am equally ready to +admit that they are probably bad ones."</p> + +<p>"They are bad ones," declared Monsieur +Dupont. "They could not be anything but bad +ones. When that excellent Inspector Fay has +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +solved the mystery of the garden, he would be +wise to turn his attention to the secrets of the +house."</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"Did Layton kill her?" Tranter asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The evidence is against him," he replied +judicially. "Your Coroner's jury will find him +guilty, and the police will not look further. +They will build up a strong case. They +will doubtless find that he was cruelly +treated by that poor girl, and was furious to +know that she was engaged to another man. +He threatened, in the presence of many witnesses, +to kill her in a horrible way. He was +seen later in the garden, and afterwards she +was found—killed in exactly that horrible way. +Who would not say that in his rage and jealousy +he had fulfilled his threat? Every one will +be perfectly satisfied. It is enough for justice +if the most likely person is hanged. And, so +far, he is not only the most likely, but the only, +person."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," Tranter acknowledged. "But—he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +didn't look like a murderer. He looked +a good fellow. Is there no other alternative?"</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> an alternative," said Monsieur +Dupont steadily.</p> + +<p>"There is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont smoked composedly for a +minute.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said—"are you inclined for +an adventure?"</p> + +<p>"I am rather busy," Tranter replied. +"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose ... I were to declare to you +positively that James Layton is innocent—that +he did not commit that crime in the crooked +garden to-night—and that I do not intend to +allow him to be hanged for a crime that he did +not commit—would you give a certain amount +of your time to help me to save him?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I will do anything I can."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Monsieur Dupont, "I answer +the question you asked a moment ago. He +did <i>not</i> kill her."</p> + +<p>"Who did?" Tranter demanded, looking at +him in astonishment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +"That is another matter. It is one thing to +say who did not—but quite another to say who +did. That is for us to discover. There will +be very little time. I think I can promise you +excitement. Possibly there will be danger. +You do not object to that?"</p> + +<p>"I have faced a certain amount of danger in +my time," Tranter replied.</p> + +<p>"Good," said Monsieur Dupont. "Then we +will set ourselves—quite apart from the efforts +of our friend, Inspector Fay—to solve the mystery +of the crooked garden. And we will not +speak a word to any one of our intention."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have some very definite ideas +on the subject already," Tranter observed.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no," demurred Monsieur Dupont—"do +not credit me with the superhuman. We have +a very difficult task before us."</p> + +<p>"But what of your other object," Tranter +inquired—"the 'riddle' that you came over to +solve?"</p> + +<p>"It may be," Monsieur Dupont replied carefully, +"that there is some connection between +my riddle and this dreadful affair to-night. +At present I cannot say. Only events themselves +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +can prove that. But that very possibility +compels me to take up a peculiar attitude—unfortunately +a most necessary one. If you will assist me—as I beg you to +do—you must be content to follow my guidance and instructions +without question, and remain, as you call +it, in the dark, until the time comes for all to +be told."</p> + +<p>"You are certainly the most mysterious person +I have ever met!" Tranter exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"It is not that I have the smallest doubt of +yourself or your discretion," Monsieur Dupont +hastened to explain. "On the contrary. It +is simply that my position at this moment is an +extraordinary one, and I cannot do what would +seem to be the natural and ordinary thing. +Will you help me on that understanding?"</p> + +<p>"I will help you in any case," Tranter agreed, +smiling slightly at his companion's intense +seriousness. "What is to be my first task?"</p> + +<p>"Your first task," said Monsieur Dupont +gravely, "is to deposit me at the Hotel Savoy, +and call for me later on your way back to Richmond."</p> + +<p>Tranter spoke some instructions through +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +the speaking-tube to the chauffeur. When he +turned again, Monsieur Dupont was asleep. +He did not open his eyes again until the car +stopped at the Savoy.</p> + +<p>Entering the hotel, he ascended to his room. +In it, he mixed himself a whisky-and-soda, sat +down at the writing-table, and unlocked a +despatch-box.</p> + +<p>He took out two photographs—each of a +remarkably beautiful woman.</p> + +<p>Under one was neatly written—</p> + +<p><i>Colette d'Orsel. Nice. August 1900.</i></p> + +<p>And under the other—</p> + +<p><i>Margaret McCall. Boston. Dec. 1910.</i></p> + +<p>From his pocket he took the photograph +which the inspector had allowed him to appropriate, +and laid it beside the others. The face +that smiled up at him was the most beautiful +of the three.</p> + +<p>He dipped a pen in the ink, and wrote under +it, in the same neat handwriting—</p> + +<p><i>Christine Manderson. London. July 1919.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Without Trace</span></p> + + +<p>At ten o'clock, Tranter and Monsieur +Dupont stood with Inspector Fay +in the garden. The Rev. Percival +Delamere joined them a few minutes +later, and the theatrical manager arrived +shortly afterwards. Finally, still in the same +half-dazed condition, George Copplestone +emerged from the house.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>," Monsieur Dupont whispered +quickly. "Look at that man!"</p> + +<p>His face was white, with a sickly pasty +whiteness. In the few hours that had passed +he seemed to have wasted to a startling gauntness. +His cheeks were drawn, his sunken eyes +dull and filmy. He moved slowly and heavily, +as if compelling himself under an utter weariness.</p> + +<p>"What do you want first?" he asked the inspector +curtly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +"First," replied Inspector Fay, "I want to +be shown the spot where the body was found."</p> + +<p>Copplestone led the way across the lawns. +In the daylight Monsieur Dupont eagerly followed +the maze of winding paths and hedges +that had imprisoned him so helplessly in the +darkness. It was a veritable looking-glass +garden. The end of every path mocked its beginning. +To reach an object it was necessary +to walk away from it. To arrive at the bank +of the river, Copplestone conducted his followers +in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>"This garden might have been designed for +a crime," the inspector remarked, as they +turned yet another corner.</p> + +<p>"It was," Monsieur Dupont agreed from +the rear. "It was designed for the most +abominable crime of making men and women +go backwards instead of forwards. And last +night it attained the height of its purpose."</p> + +<p>For an instant Copplestone glanced back at +him, a quickening in his dull eyes. A moment +afterwards they turned a final corner, and +emerged on to the broad lawns, sloping down +to the edge of the river.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +Copplestone halted, and looked round, measuring +distances. Then he moved on, keeping +close to the trees.</p> + +<p>"About here, I think," said the clergyman, +pausing.</p> + +<p>Copplestone stopped a few paces ahead.</p> + +<p>"It was very dark," he said, looking at the +ground. "I don't think I knew exactly where +we were. As near as I can judge, it was just +here."</p> + +<p>"There ought to have been some sign left +to mark the place when the body was taken +away," the inspector said sharply.</p> + +<p>"You will find," said the quiet voice of Monsieur +Dupont, "a pencil in the ground at the +exact spot. It is a useful pencil, and I should +be obliged if you would kindly return it to +me."</p> + +<p>The inspector shot him a rather grim smile. +All, except Copplestone, bent down to look for +the sign.</p> + +<p>"Here it is," Tranter exclaimed, pulling a +pencil out of the ground. They stood aside to +give the inspector room.</p> + +<p>"The rain has washed away any traces that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +might have helped us," that official grumbled, +after a fruitless search.</p> + +<p>"And even if it had not," the manager observed, +"you would only have found traces of +all of us, as we were all here."</p> + +<p>The inspector continued his examination. +Copplestone stood apart, his eyes fixed on the +river. He did not appear to be taking the +slightest interest in the proceedings.</p> + +<p>"In what position was the body lying?" +the inspector asked, looking up at the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"It was so horribly contorted that it is difficult +to say in what position it <i>was</i> lying," +the latter replied, bending down beside him. +"The head, I think, lay towards the river, and +the feet towards the trees."</p> + +<p>"It was so when we came," Copplestone corroborated, +without turning his head.</p> + +<p>"There are no signs of a struggle here," +said the inspector, straightening himself after +another pause. "If there had been one, some +of the heavier indications might have remained +in spite of the rain."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +"It is possible," Monsieur Dupont suggested, +"that the body was carried here from the place +where the struggle did take place."</p> + +<p>"Quite possible," the inspector agreed. He +turned to Tranter. "Will you show us now, +Mr. Tranter, where you parted from Miss +Manderson?"</p> + +<p>"I am not familiar with the garden," Tranter +replied. "I only know, as I told you last night, +that we had just passed under some arches +across the path. I do not know where they +are."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Copplestone will show us," said the +inspector.</p> + +<p>Copplestone started at the sound of his own +name, and turned to them.</p> + +<p>"What next?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"The rose arches," returned the inspector.</p> + +<p>Copplestone indicated an opening in the trees, +some distance ahead of them.</p> + +<p>"Over here," he directed, moving towards +it.</p> + +<p>There were twelve ornamental arches, overgrown +with roses. Monsieur Dupont looked +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +at the wealth of flowers almost with reverence.</p> + +<p>"So far," he muttered, "the only innocent +things I have seen in this garden."</p> + +<p>Tranter stopped at a point where several +paths intersected.</p> + +<p>"I left her here," he said. "I went down +that path to the right, which she told me would +lead to the main lawns where I should be most +likely to Mr. Copplestone. She said she was +going straight back to the house."</p> + +<p>"She should have taken that path," Copplestone +said, turning to one in another direction. +"That is the way to the house."</p> + +<p>"Did she know the garden well?" asked the +inspector.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly well."</p> + +<p>"Still, she might easily have taken a wrong +turning in the darkness."</p> + +<p>"She might. But it is about the straightest +path in the garden. I don't think she +would have made a mistake."</p> + +<p>Slowly and carefully Inspector Fay followed +the path to the house, under the guidance of +Copplestone. Every yard of the way was examined, +but yielded nothing. The inspector's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +face became darker and darker. He stopped +when they turned a corner and found themselves +at the house.</p> + +<p>"She could not possibly have got so far as +this before the attack was made," he said discontentedly.</p> + +<p>"Impossible," agreed the manager. "If the +murderer had killed her here, he would have +left her here. He would not have taken the +risk of dragging her all the way to the river."</p> + +<p>"It seems a curious thing," the clergyman +remarked, "that apparently she did not utter +any cry for help."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Monsieur Dupont quietly.</p> + +<p>He looked at the clergyman with a new interest. +Copplestone also glanced at him +quickly.</p> + +<p>"Even the thunder would hardly have +drowned a sharp cry, and some one would +surely have heard it."</p> + +<p>"Probably she hadn't time," suggested the +manager. "No doubt he sprang out and attacked +her from the back. He must have been +as quick as the lightning itself."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont drew Tranter aside.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +"Our clerical friend does not realize the +importance of his own point," he said softly. +"But he has put his finger on the key to the +whole mystery."</p> + +<p>"The key?" Tranter repeated.</p> + +<p>"If Christine Manderson had uttered a cry +for help, this would have been a simple, +straightforward case," said Monsieur Dupont. +"In the fact that she did not lies the whole +secret of the crime."</p> + +<p>"Bolsover's reason would seem to be the +obvious one," Tranter returned. "The assault +must have been made so quickly that +she had no time."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bolsover's reason is, as you say, the +obvious one," admitted Monsieur Dupont. +"But it is not the correct one. I have already +warned Inspector Fay to disregard the obvious. +If he will not take my advice, that is his affair."</p> + +<p>"But what do you mean?" asked Tranter.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont's voice sank lower.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see that a cry for help would +have completely transformed the whole case? +It would have brought it down in one crash to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +a human level. It is the silence—the utter, +horrible silence—that makes it what it is. It +is the silence——"</p> + +<p>The inspector's voice recalled them.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Bolsover, just whereabouts was +Layton when you disturbed him?"</p> + +<p>"He was sneaking round there," the manager +replied, pointing to a corner of the house, +"towards the drawing-room windows."</p> + +<p>"Which path did he run to when he saw +you?"</p> + +<p>"That one—to the river."</p> + +<p>"Does that path communicate anywhere with +the one which we presume Miss Manderson +was following to the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Copplestone.</p> + +<p>They moved along the path indicated by the +manager. It twisted about unproductively for +some distance.</p> + +<p>"How far was he in front of you?" asked +the inspector.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," confessed the manager. +"I should say about ten yards when we started—but +I am not much of a runner. I had lost +him altogether before I got here."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +They went on.</p> + +<p>"That cursed rain," the inspector muttered.</p> + +<p>"This is the branch that leads to the other +path," said Copplestone, halting.</p> + +<p>"And it was further along there, by that +fir tree that I met Monsieur Dupont," added +the manager.</p> + +<p>"That is so," agreed Monsieur Dupont. +"Layton certainly did not come beyond this +point in my direction."</p> + +<p>"By taking that branch," the inspector calculated, +"he would have met Miss Manderson +just at the time that the crime was committed."</p> + +<p>"He would," said the manager.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont turned again to Tranter.</p> + +<p>"We must be quick," he whispered, "Layton +is already hanged."</p> + +<p>"There doesn't seem to be much chance for +him," returned Tranter. "It will be a very +strong case. No criminal could complain at +being hanged on such evidence."</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Monsieur Dupont slowly, +"so far as the actual crime is concerned, there +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +is not a single trace. Not one single trace. +Is it not extraordinary?"</p> + +<p>He doubled his fists.</p> + +<p>"That luck!" he ground out angrily. +"Again that luck!"</p> + +<p>"What luck?" Tranter exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"If that most unfortunate young man had +not come here and made a fool of himself last +night, the police might have searched forever +without finding a clue. There is no clue here. +And there was the rain. The very elements +sweep up after the passing of the Destroyer."</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you mean?" Tranter +cried.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>"I am obliged to you, gentlemen," said the +inspector. "Your evidence will of course be +required at the inquest, of which you will receive +notice. I need not detain you any +longer."</p> + +<p>The clergyman and the manager hurried +away. Monsieur Dupont lingered at the inspector's +side, and Tranter strolled back with +Copplestone.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +"Well?" queried the inspector. "Not much +doubt about it, is there?"</p> + +<p>"You have a strong case," said Monsieur +Dupont. "Very strong."</p> + +<p>"You agree with it?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"At all events, I am not in position, at present, +to contradict it."</p> + +<p>"You will have your work cut out to build +up another one," said the inspector complacently. +"There isn't a trace."</p> + +<p>"That is it," said the other sharply. "There +is no trace. There is never a trace." He +lowered his voice cautiously. "One point I +recommend to you, as I have just recommended +it to Tranter—that remark of Mr. +Delamere that there was no cry for help."</p> + +<p>"What of it?" returned the inspector.</p> + +<p>"It is the key," said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>He moved on abruptly, and overtook Tranter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Builder of Men</span></p> + + +<p>James Layton occupied two dingy +rooms, in a dilapidated house, situated +between a church and a public-house, +in as squalid and unwholesome a street +as any in the East End of London. In them he +spent such time as was left to him—and it was +not much—after his active ministrations +among the denizens of the miserable neighborhood. +They were scantily furnished, and of +comforts there were none. He denied himself +anything beyond the barest necessities of existence, +with the exception of a few books and +pipes, which were the companions of his odd +moments of leisure, and he read and smoked in +a hard wicker chair, destitute even of a cushion. +He ate sparingly, of food scarcely better than +that on which his neighbors subsisted, and +drank little. His clothes were poor, his shirts +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +frayed, and his boots patched—and his income +was a thousand pounds a week.</p> + +<p>In his work he was unusually broad-minded +and unprejudiced. He spent none of his time +in efforts to lure the occupants of the public-house +on his left into the church on his right. +Indeed, he was an excellent customer of the +former institution, and was on the best of terms +with its landlord, who was an ex-pugilist after +his kind. He made no discrimination in the +dispensation of his charity. He worked on +the principle that before he reformed a man +he must feed him—so before he attempted to +deal with the mind he relieved the body. He +was open-handed and unsuspicious—and wonderfully +beloved. There were hundreds of +people in that street, and many other streets, +who would gladly have laid down their lives +for him—and who imposed on him shockingly +day after day in the minor matters of life. +The Mad Philanthropist never turned away—never +refused. He was a builder of Men. No +one knew, or cared, who he was or whence he +came. He never gave account of himself, or +spoke of his own affairs. Curiosity was the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +one thing he resented. He enclosed himself, so +far as private matters were concerned, within +the fortifications of a reserve which no one had +succeeded in penetrating. Though he held a +thousand confidences, he made none. In listening +to the experiences of others he never referred +to his own, or even hinted whether +they had been sweet or bitter. He went on +his silent way—and the world was the better +for him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In his bare sitting-room he sat with his face +between his hands. A girl knelt on the floor +beside him.</p> + +<p>She was a remarkable girl. Wild, wayward, +with all the passions—brimful with untamed +vitality—incapable of the common restraints. +Her face was neither beautiful, nor, +perhaps, even pretty—but Diana herself might +have envied the full, lithe figure, the free grace +of her movements. She was the creature of +her desires—knowing no laws that opposed +them. A Primitive Woman, from the dawn +of the world.</p> + +<p>"Jim," she pleaded. "Jim...."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +He made no movement.</p> + +<p>"Be a man," she whispered. "Pull yourself +together."</p> + +<p>He put her away from him roughly.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd go," he said dully. "I don't +want you here."</p> + +<p>Her face grew whiter. Her hands crept to +him again. The light of a great love was in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jim," she whispered, "I know I'm not +like she was. I'm not beautiful. I'm not wonderful. +I haven't anything that she had. Oh, +I know all that ... so well."</p> + +<p>He uncovered his face—it was haggard and +bloodless, the face of a man in the throes of a +mental hell—and looked at her, almost with +revulsion.</p> + +<p>"You?" he cried harshly. "You...? +You dare to name yourself to me in the same +breath with her? Get up, and look at yourself!" +He pointed to a cracked mirror on the +mantel-piece. "Look!" he said hoarsely, +thrusting her away from him again. "Do you +see how coarse and heavy and rough you are? +She was light and delicate—like a snowflake. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +She never seemed to touch the ground. Your +hair is like string—your hands are large—your +voice is harsh. Her hair was like silk—gold +silk in the sunshine. I could see through her +hands. Her voice was music. I want you to +go. You are in my way."</p> + +<p>She sprang up, raging.</p> + +<p>"She never loved you!" she cried. "She +never cared for you—or even thought of you! +She wasn't fit to touch you—to look at you!"</p> + +<p>His face was aflame.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>"I hate her!" she declared fiercely. "I hate +her memory! I'm glad she's dead!"</p> + +<p>He lunged forward from his chair, and +seized her. In his fury he nearly struck her.</p> + +<p>"As God's above us," he panted, "one more +word...." His rage choked him. The +words jammed in his throat.</p> + +<p>She wrenched herself free. His arms +dropped to his sides. He reeled dizzily.</p> + +<p>"You may do what you like to me," she cried +passionately. "I tell you—I'm glad she's dead! +She deserved to die. She was wicked and +cruel. I think God Himself destroyed her."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +He sank back into his chair weakly. A sob +shook him.</p> + +<p>"God did not destroy her," he said slowly. +"God never destroys. He only builds. It is +men and women who destroy."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. She came close +to him again, all her anger swallowed up in a +great sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Jim," she asked softly ... "was she so +much to you?"</p> + +<p>He became suddenly rigid.</p> + +<p>"How did you come to know her? She +wasn't your sort. She couldn't have had anything +in common with you. What have you +to do with women like that?"</p> + +<p>His eyes narrowed threateningly. Her +questions had struck him into a new alertness. +She noticed that his knees were pressed together.</p> + +<p>"The papers said she only came to England +two months ago—for the first time. It hasn't +all happened since then. I know it hasn't. +There must have been something else. Something +before. What was it?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +He sat glaring at her—locking and unlocking +his hands.</p> + +<p>"It all happened since then," he said jerkily. +"I had never seen her before. There was nothing +else."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it, Jim," she declared. +"You are hiding something."</p> + +<p>He avoided her steady gaze.</p> + +<p>"Believe it or not, as you like," he retorted.</p> + +<p>"People say there is some secret in your +life," she said. "I believe there is. And I +believe it was her secret too."</p> + +<p>He lunged forward again, in a fresh paroxysm +of fury.</p> + +<p>"What is it to you?" he cried shrilly—"or +to any one? Why do you pry? Suppose I +have my secrets. They are no concern of +yours. I give away my money—my life. +Isn't it enough? What would you be—what +would any of them be now—but for me? I +work day and night for others. Can't I keep +my soul to myself?"</p> + +<p>"Jim," she said gently, "I'm not prying. I +don't want to know your secrets. I only +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +wanted to make it lighter for you, if you'd let +me."</p> + +<p>"You can't make it lighter for me," he returned. +"No one can make it lighter. I don't +want to be interfered with. I want to be left +alone. What right have you to try to judge +me?"</p> + +<p>"Judge you?" she echoed. "Who could +want to judge you? Why, you are the noblest +man in all the world. No one could do more +good than you do. Every man, woman, and +child here worships you, and would die for +you."</p> + +<p>His anger instantly subsided.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes!" he said greedily—"tell me that. +That's what I want to hear. Tell me they +worship me—that no one could do more good +than I do—that men and women would die for +me. Go on telling me that!"</p> + +<p>Her voice thrilled with her love for him.</p> + +<p>"You brought us light and life. You have +raised hundreds—as you raised me—out of +misery and filth. Think of all the children +you have sent away from this poison into the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +green fields and the sunshine—who would have +died."</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" he cried. "Go on! Go on! +All the children...."</p> + +<p>"You are building them," she said—her +whole being transformed with tenderness. +"You are making them fit to be men and +women. They wouldn't have been fit without +you. You are teaching them how to be clean +and happy. You are showing them that they +needn't be the dregs of humanity—that these +hovels needn't be their world. You are giving +them new interests, new thoughts, new +hopes. Oh, what could be more wonderful—more +splendid? It is God's own work."</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" he cried again. "God's work! +I am doing God's work!"</p> + +<p>He paced up and down the room eagerly—feasting +on her words—drinking her praises as +an exhausted man might drink an invigorating +draught. He was in the grip of a feverish +energy. His blood was racing.</p> + +<p>His quick steps shook the wretched room. +The floor creaked under his tread. A lamp on +the table rattled. The girl watched him nervously. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +She put out a hand to check him, but +he brushed it aside. His looks, his movements, +frightened her. He seemed to be gazing out +beyond the narrow walls into a space of surging +memories, that sported with his reason. +He muttered incoherently, oblivious of her +presence. She grew frightened.</p> + +<p>"Jim!" she cried sharply.</p> + +<p>He started, and stopped, looking at her vacantly.</p> + +<p>"My work," he said restlessly. "I must get +on with my work. I haven't done enough +... nearly enough. I must go on building +... go on giving light."</p> + +<p>He let her put a hand on his arm and move +him gently back to his chair. He sat down, +and stared at her in a dazed fashion, as one +returning to consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you gone?" he said heavily. +"I asked you to go."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going, Jim," she returned. "I can't +leave you like this. You're not fit to be left."</p> + +<p>His face darkened again.</p> + +<p>"I am perfectly fit to be left," he said hardly. +"And I wish to be alone."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +"When you are better, I'll go," she said +quietly—"if you want me to."</p> + +<p>He made a gesture of impatience.</p> + +<p>"I am better now," he said wearily. "I +am quite well. I want you to go. Why do +you persist in staying when I want you to go?"</p> + +<p>The girl's self-control deserted her. She +burst into a storm of weeping.</p> + +<p>"I won't go," she sobbed. "I won't go—because +you are in trouble—and I love you. +I don't care whether you want me or not. I +love you."</p> + +<p>He heard her indifferently. Neither her +tears nor her passion moved him.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense," he snapped. "Love +is nothing to me. I hate the word. You +might as well talk of loving the Monument as +me."</p> + +<p>"You lifted me up," she cried. "You saved +my soul and body. I was lower than any of +the others before you came. You taught me—and +I've tried to learn your lessons. But, +oh, if you didn't mean me to love you, you +should have left me where I was."</p> + +<p>"You were a good girl," he said, with tired +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +tolerance. "You learnt well. But I didn't +mean you to love me. I don't want you to love +me. What I have done for you was only part +of my work—like the others. I don't want +any woman to love me. I tell you, I hate the +word. It means nothing to me. I only want +to go on...."</p> + +<p>Her sobs ceased. She stood very still. +Her face was torn, but he was not looking at +her. She turned, and went slowly towards the +door, her head bowed. She seemed to be +shrunken and small. All her vitality had gone. +She moved like an old woman, weakly.</p> + +<p>The door opened before she reached it. Two +men stood in the passage. She started back. +One of them came a few paces into the room, +looking at the man in the chair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. James Layton?"</p> + +<p>He rose unsteadily.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I am James Layton. What +do you want?"</p> + +<p>"We are police officers, investigating the +murder of Miss Christine Manderson."</p> + +<p>The girl uttered a cry, and sprang between +them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +"What do you want with him?" she demanded +fiercely. "He knows nothing about +it. How should he? What is it to do with +him?"</p> + +<p>The men looked at her with quick interest. +But Layton silenced her with an imperative +gesture.</p> + +<p>"I am at your service," he said quietly. +"What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"We are instructed to ask you to be kind +enough to return with us to Scotland Yard to +answer a few questions that may assist the +investigation of the crime."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Layton returned, without hesitation.</p> + +<p>His face was perfectly calm. He showed +no fear or agitation.</p> + +<p>"We have a taxi waiting," the man said. +He spoke to Layton—but he was looking at the +girl.</p> + +<p>"I will come with you at once," Layton replied.</p> + +<p>He took up his hat and stick. The girl +leant against the wall panting, a hand pressed +to her heart.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +"Jim," she gasped faintly. "Jim...."</p> + +<p>He turned, with the first sign of kindness +he had yet shown to her.</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened," he said gently. "I +shall be back in an hour or so."</p> + +<p>She clutched him desperately.</p> + +<p>"You sha'n't go!" she cried wildly. "You +sha'n't go!"</p> + +<p>He put her aside firmly.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I go? There is nothing to +be afraid of. I must help if I can."</p> + +<p>The door closed behind them. The girl +moved from the wall, and staggered to the +table, leaning on it heavily. She was ashen. +Her lips were gray. She heard them leave the +house—heard the car start, and listened until +the sound of it died away in the length of the +street. Her strength failed. She sank to her +knees. A moan of agony escaped her.</p> + +<p>"For nothing...." she whispered. "Oh, +God ... for nothing...."</p> + +<p>She heard a quiet tap at the door, but could +not answer. She saw the door open slowly. +An enormous figure stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +She struggled to her feet.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" she murmured fearfully. +"Have you come ... for me?"</p> + +<p>The figure squeezed its way through the +narrow doorway, and closed the door.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, you are a friend of Mr. +James Layton, who was taken, a few minutes +ago, to Scotland Yard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she cried, "yes. I am his friend. +What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Before the end of the day, Mr. Layton will +be detained on the charge of murder."</p> + +<p>She screamed.</p> + +<p>"He didn't do it! He didn't do it!"</p> + +<p>"The evidence is strong," said the stranger. +"He threatened her. He was in the garden +when the crime was committed——"</p> + +<p>She raised her hand, as if to ward off a blow.</p> + +<p>"In the garden?" she shivered. "He was +in the garden ... then?"</p> + +<p>"He will require much assistance," continued +the huge unknown—"and there is no +time to lose. Will you help him?"</p> + +<p>"I would die for him," she choked. "What +can I do?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +The stranger re-opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Come with me, mademoiselle," he said +softly—"and I will tell you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Triple Alliance</span></p> + + +<p>He led the girl out of the house. +At the corner of the street a taxi +was waiting. He opened the +door.</p> + +<p>"Where are we going?" she demanded suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"To the Hotel Savoy, mademoiselle," he answered.</p> + +<p>She hung back.</p> + +<p>"Why should I go with you?" she asked +defiantly. "I have never seen you before. I +don't know who you are."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he replied, "your friend is +in great danger. He will not be able to help +himself. If you do not come with me, you will +not be able to help him. And I assure you that +he needs your help."</p> + +<p>She got in without another word. He placed +himself beside her, and the car started.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +"Who are you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"My name," he told her, "is Dupont—Victorien +Dupont. I arrived in London from +Paris a few days ago."</p> + +<p>"What have you to do with this?" she said +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"That," he replied, "I cannot at the moment +explain to you. I am concerned in this case +for reasons of my own, which must remain +my own for the present. I was in the garden +when Christine Manderson was killed."</p> + +<p>She started, staring at him.</p> + +<p>"You were in the garden too?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"I was," he affirmed. "And I know that +Monsieur Layton did not kill her."</p> + +<p>"He didn't!" she declared. "He couldn't +kill anything. He spends his time giving life—not +taking it."</p> + +<p>"The police will be satisfied that he did, and +they will have a strong case. Unless we can +help him by discovering the truth in time, he +will not be able to clear himself. Are you prepared +to work for him?"</p> + +<p>"I told you," she repeated passionately, "I +would die for him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +"It is well," he said. "There will be three +people on his side. You—my friend, Mr. +Tranter, who was also in the garden—and +myself. Together we will save him. There +will be separate tasks for us all. Mr. Tranter +will be waiting at the hotel when we arrive, +and we will settle our plan of campaign. Until +then, mademoiselle, let us not refer to the +subject again. Do me the favor thoroughly +to compose yourself. In these matters coolness +is of the utmost importance."</p> + +<p>He compressed himself further into his +corner, and closed his eyes. The girl said nothing +more. The rapidity of the whole catastrophe, +and the sudden appearance of this new +adventure bewildered her. The huge mysterious +stranger almost frightened her. Though +his eyes were shut and he made neither sound +nor movement, she felt that he was searching +her, that he was straining all his mental forces +to steal the thoughts that were throbbing +through her mind. As they drew near to their +destination, she fiercely exerted the self-control +that was one of her least developed virtues, +and by the time they reached the Savoy, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +and Monsieur Dupont opened his eyes, she was +steady and watchful.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," said Monsieur Dupont +softly, "you will be of the greatest assistance. +Already you know the value of silence."</p> + +<p>In his private sitting-room they found Tranter +awaiting them.</p> + +<p>"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "this +lady will work with us. She is much attached +to James Layton, and her assistance will be +most valuable." He turned to her. "Mademoiselle, +I have not the honor...."</p> + +<p>"My name's Jenny West," she said, comprehending +the request.</p> + +<p>"Where is Layton?" Tranter asked, as Monsieur +Dupont placed a chair for the girl, and +sat down himself.</p> + +<p>"By this time," Monsieur Dupont replied, +"he will have arrived at Scotland Yard. Our +friend Inspector Fay will question him, and +he will certainly be detained. As I have just +explained to mademoiselle, he is in great +danger. Unless we succeed in our object, his +position is without hope."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +Tears welled up in the girl's eyes, but she +checked them with an effort.</p> + +<p>"I wish," Monsieur Dupont continued, with +careful emphasis, "that my own position also +should be clearly understood, in so far as I am +at liberty to explain it. I cannot yet tell you +how I come to be interested in this affair. +Soon I may do so—but until then you must be +content to take me on trust, and to accept my +assurance that I am fully qualified to direct +you. Are you willing to follow my instructions +without question—to save this innocent +man, who will be accused of a horrible crime +which he did not commit?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," the girl cried. "I am ready. I +will do anything."</p> + +<p>"And I," said Tranter.</p> + +<p>"The directions I give may seem to be +strange," Monsieur Dupont went on impressively—"but +they must be followed. The errands +on which I send you may seem to be unimportant +and even foolish—but they must be +carried out. Do not look for explanations, +until I make them. I give account to no one. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +Those who work with me work much in the +dark—but they reach the light. There must +be no hesitation. Is that understood?"</p> + +<p>Again the others agreed.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Monsieur Dupont confidently, +"we shall succeed. Layton will be saved—but +it will be a hard and difficult task. The first +law I have to impose on you is—silence. Complete +silence, to every one except myself."</p> + +<p>He turned to the girl.</p> + +<p>"At three o'clock this afternoon, mademoiselle, +unless you hear from me to the contrary, +you will go to Scotland Yard, where Mr. Layton +will be detained. That I shall verify by +telephone. You will see him, and you will tell +him this: You will say that I, Dupont, know +how and why Christine Manderson died—that +I, and those with me, will not allow the innocent +to suffer—and that he shall be delivered +from this charge. And say to him, also, anything +from yourself that you may wish to say."</p> + +<p>They were both gazing at him blankly.</p> + +<p>"You know?" the girl gasped. "You know +who killed her?"</p> + +<p>The great Frenchman seemed to develop before +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +their eyes into a figure of tremendous +menace, every inch of him alive with implacable, +relentless purpose.</p> + +<p>"I know," he declared slowly, "just what +I have told you—how and why she died. Ask +me no more. Remember our conditions. +There must be no questions until the time +comes."</p> + +<p>He rose, and took an envelope from his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"Certain things that I shall ask you to do, +mademoiselle, may involve expense. In this +envelope you will find a sufficient sum. Do +not hesitate to accept it. Ample funds are at +our command. When you return from Scotland +Yard, report to me here. If I am not in, +wait for me. And, above all, remember—silence."</p> + +<p>He opened the door, and bowed her out. +Then he turned to Tranter with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, my friend?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean," Tranter exclaimed, +"that you know the truth of the crime?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont offered him a cigar, and +lit one himself with great composure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +"I know just as much about the crime, my +friend, as I have said. I repeat—I know how +and why that unfortunate woman died. Who, +or what, caused her to die is another matter, +which we are setting ourselves to solve."</p> + +<p>"You are certain that Layton is innocent?"</p> + +<p>"James Layton did not commit the crime," +Monsieur Dupont returned firmly. "But he +will be hanged for it—if we are not in time."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Tranter, "what is there for me +to do?"</p> + +<p>"For you," replied Monsieur Dupont, +"there is the most important task in the case, +so far. And the most dangerous. Within +twenty-four hours you must discover, and bring +to me here, the secret of the Crooked House."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" Tranter exclaimed, taken +aback, "how on earth am I to do that?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," Monsieur Dupont admitted. +"Nor have I any helpful suggestions to +make. The method of procedure I leave to +you."</p> + +<p>"Housebreaking is entirely out of my province," +Tranter objected. "And the secret of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +that house, if there is one, is likely to be very +well guarded."</p> + +<p>"Probably," agreed Monsieur Dupont. +"But the fact remains that before the end of +the next twenty-four hours I must have that +secret—and you are the person who must bring +it to me."</p> + +<p>Tranter took up his hat and stick, without +further protest.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said stoutly. "I will do my +best."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"It is one o'clock," he said, opening the door. +"At one o'clock to-morrow I shall be waiting +for you in this room."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mr. Gluckstein In Confidence</span></p> + + +<p>Mrs. Astley-Rolfe invariably +received her creditors in pink +deshabille.</p> + +<p>The financier, Mr. Solomon +Gluckstein, original and senior representative +of John Brown & Co., Jermyn Street, was particularly +fond of pink, and extremely susceptible +to deshabille. Whiskey-and-soda, personally +prepared for him in sufficient strength by +his charming debtor, increased the fondness +and the susceptibility.</p> + +<p>"Ma tear lady," said Mr. Gluckstein, with +desperate firmness, "I have come on an unplethant +errand."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Astley-Rolfe pouted petulantly.</p> + +<p>"Am I to have no peace?" she complained, +from an alluring attitude on a couch. "Isn't +it enough to have gone through the last two +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +days? Look at me. I am a nervous wreck."</p> + +<p>"Then all women wouldth with to be nervouth +wrecks," said Mr. Gluckstein gallantly.</p> + +<p>"I believe that odious detective actually +imagined at the beginning that I might have +murdered the poor girl."</p> + +<p>"Nonthenth," the financier assured her.</p> + +<p>"I have scarcely had any sleep," she went +on reproachfully. "It is a wonder I am not +thoroughly ill. And now you—from whom I +should have expected consideration—come +here with a face like a rock, and announce your +intention to be unpleasant. If I didn't know +you so well, I might have believed you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gluckstein glanced towards the door, +and drew his chair closer to her.</p> + +<p>"Let us understand each other," he said deliberately. +"At the present time you owe me +a large thum of money."</p> + +<p>"Gospel truth," she admitted.</p> + +<p>"Very much more than you could pothibly +pay, if I came down on you."</p> + +<p>She uttered a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"At last you realize that!" she exclaimed +thankfully.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +"Also," continued Mr. Gluckstein, "you owe +money to various other people."</p> + +<p>"Your veracity," she confessed, "is beyond +question."</p> + +<p>"Almosth ath much ath you owe to me."</p> + +<p>"Quite as much," she said cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"And you owe me," he continued—"twelve +thousand poundth."</p> + +<p>"The first time I have looked the evil fully +in the face," she shuddered.</p> + +<p>His small eyes regarded her intently.</p> + +<p>"The last half of that—I lent to you on a +certain understanding."</p> + +<p>"Understanding?" she echoed languidly.</p> + +<p>"Yeth."</p> + +<p>"What did you understand?"</p> + +<p>"That you intended to become engaged to +George Copplesthone, who would pay your +debths when you married him."</p> + +<p>A quick change swept over her. She became +hard and calculating.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she returned.</p> + +<p>"You have not become engaged to him."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Some one elth became engaged to him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +"Yes," she said calmly.</p> + +<p>"That doth not look," he concluded, "like +fulfillment of the understanding."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't it?" she retorted.</p> + +<p>He glanced again at the door, and came still +closer.</p> + +<p>"Lithen," he said slowly. "I have been +your friendth. I have done for you what I +would not have done for any one elth. I have +treated you fairly, and I have never prethed +you."</p> + +<p>She softened immediately.</p> + +<p>"You have been very kind to me," she said +gratefully.</p> + +<p>"You muth be my friendth too. I muth tell +you my thecret. Promith me faithfully that +you will keep it."</p> + +<p>She looked at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will keep it," she agreed.</p> + +<p>"Five days ago," Mr. Gluckstein informed +her painfully, "my partner abthconded, and left +me almosth a ruined man."</p> + +<p>Her face expressed genuine sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," she said feelingly. +"What a dreadful blow for you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +"It ith unnethecessary to explain bithness +details to you," the financier proceeded. "My +working capital hath gone, and the fact thimply +is that I cannot carry on—unleth——" he +paused to give his words additional emphasis, +"unleth you repay me my twelve thousand +poundth in full within two months."</p> + +<p>"Two months?" she exclaimed blankly.</p> + +<p>"Two months," he repeatedly firmly. "That +ith the utmost time I can give you. Have you +any other means of raithing the money?"</p> + +<p>"Not a ghost of one," she replied frankly. +"I might as well try to push over the Marble +Arch as raise a single thousand."</p> + +<p>"Then," he said steadily, "if you do not +marry Copplesthone I am a bankrupt—and a +bankrupt I will not be."</p> + +<p>"I shall marry him," she said. "I told you +I should—and I shall. You will have your +money."</p> + +<p>"I believed you," he returned. "But another +woman beat you."</p> + +<p>She looked away from him.</p> + +<p>"Did she?" she replied evenly.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +"When Copplesthone announthed his engagement +to Mith Manderthon," the financier went +on, "I stood ruined. I admit it. I stood +ruined by your defeat. That ith the thecret +that you muth keep. I was sure that you had +no other means of paying me back. Nothing +could save me but a miraculouth removal of the +obstacle."</p> + +<p>"The obstacle was removed," she said, in the +same even tone.</p> + +<p>He shuddered.</p> + +<p>"It wath. The obstacle that stood between +you and Copplesthone, and me and ruination, +wath removed. It was a ghastly thing, and +we are very thorry. But let uth be candid. +It wath to our advantage."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she agreed slowly—"it was to our +advantage."</p> + +<p>"There must not be another obstacle," he +said.</p> + +<p>"There will not be another," she replied. +"George Copplestone will marry me—and you +shall have your twelve thousand pounds, as I +promised. You need not be anxious."</p> + +<p>He looked round the luxurious room, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +sighed deeply. It surprised her that she had +not noticed before how much he had aged.</p> + +<p>"I must begin again," he said. "I am getting +old—but I will rebuild my fortune. I +will not be the only poor Jew in London."</p> + +<p>"You have been a good friend to me," she +said gently. "I am very sorry."</p> + +<p>He paused to finish his drink, but his crafty +eyes never left her face. She did not meet +them.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, in a slightly lower tone, +replacing his empty glass on the table, "what +the police will discover."</p> + +<p>"I should imagine that there is very little +to be discovered," she returned. "There seems +no doubt that it was James Layton, the Mad +Millionaire, as he is called. He will probably +be arrested within the next twenty-four hours. +It appears to be a clear case. He threatened +her—in front of us all. And he was in the +garden."</p> + +<p>"It ought to be enough," he admitted, more +easily. "What more could they want?"</p> + +<p>"The evidence is very strong," she said, lazily +settling her deshabille. "Many people have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +been hanged on less. Apparently the police +are satisfied. At least, they have not arrested +either of us."</p> + +<p>The financier started violently.</p> + +<p>"Either of uth?" he cried, aghast. "What +do you mean, either of uth?"</p> + +<p>Her smile was enigmatical.</p> + +<p>"As you said just now—the removal of the +obstacle was to the advantage of both of us."</p> + +<p>"But they don't know," he shivered. +"They can't know."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," she said shortly.</p> + +<p>Perspiration began to stand out on his forehead. +He had lost color considerably.</p> + +<p>"You promised to keep my thecret," he exclaimed +nervously. "Noth a word to any +one."</p> + +<p>"I shall keep my promise," she replied.</p> + +<p>"There is no cause for alarm. I don't think +Inspector Fay will trouble us."</p> + +<p>There was a tap at the door. They turned +as the butler entered.</p> + +<p>"Inspector Fay would like to see you for a +few minutes, madam."</p> + +<p>They looked at each other. The financier +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +was agitated. The woman was perfectly calm.</p> + +<p>"Talk of the devil!" she smiled.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gluckstein gripped his hat, stick, and +gloves, and rose hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"He must not see me here," he said jerkily. +"Let me out another way."</p> + +<p>"Go through there," she said, pointing to +a door at the opposite end of the room, "and +when he has come in, Parker will let you out. +Bring the inspector in, Parker."</p> + +<p>The financier did not wait to shake hands.</p> + +<p>"Remember," he whispered passing her—"both +your promises."</p> + +<p>"They will be kept," she said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Wit of the Pink Lady</span></p> + + +<p>Inspector Fay entered the room at +one end a few seconds after Mr. Gluckstein +left it at the other.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Astley-Rolfe greeted him in a +friendly fashion. She showed considerable +strain—but, otherwise, was looking her best. +And her best was delightful.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, inspector," she said languidly.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, madam." He glanced +back to make certain that the door was closed. +"I trust you have recovered from the shock of +the crime."</p> + +<p>"I still feel it very much," she replied, shuddering. +"It was the most horrible experience +I have ever had. To think of seeing that poor +girl alive and well one minute, and the next—like +that. It's too dreadful to think of."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +"It was certainly a most disgusting crime," +the inspector agreed.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was James Layton?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I cannot make any statement +at present," he replied. "Our investigations +are proceeding as quickly as possible. I hope +we shall clear it up in a few days."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will," she declared fervently. +"Such a brutal criminal can expect no mercy."</p> + +<p>"In the meantime," continued the inspector, +"I should be much obliged if you would +kindly give me a little information."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she said readily. "Sit down."</p> + +<p>He sat down, facing her. She made a +charming picture. But Inspector Fay had +been taken in by charming women several times +during the early part of his career, and at this +stage of it was as impervious as an oyster.</p> + +<p>"Please understand," he began, "that in asking +these questions I am making no insinuations +or suggestions of any kind. It is necessary +to establish certain facts."</p> + +<p>"I quite understand," she assured him. +"What do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know what you were saying to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +Mr. Copplestone in the garden, before Mr. +Tranter came to tell him that Miss Manderson +had gone into the house."</p> + +<p>She started.</p> + +<p>"I?" she exclaimed. "I was not with Mr. +Copplestone."</p> + +<p>He remained silent.</p> + +<p>"I told you, I was not with any one. I did +not feel quite myself, and strolled about alone."</p> + +<p>The inspector's face was quite impassive.</p> + +<p>"You wish me to accept that answer?" he +asked quietly.</p> + +<p>She stiffened haughtily.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she said sharply.</p> + +<p>"I mean that you wish that answer to be +accepted as the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Are you suggesting that it is +not?"</p> + +<p>"I am suggesting nothing," he returned, +with unruffled composure. "But I must tell +you that if I am to accept that answer, it may +have serious consequences."</p> + +<p>"Serious consequences?" she echoed, +startled.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +"For whom?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly for Mr. Copplestone himself."</p> + +<p>Signs of uneasiness began to appear, in spite +of her wonderful self-control.</p> + +<p>"For Mr. Copplestone...?"</p> + +<p>"For Mr. Copplestone," the inspector affirmed +steadily.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," she said. "Will you +kindly explain?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly." His voice dropped slightly. +"Mr. Copplestone lied to me."</p> + +<p>"Lied to you?"</p> + +<p>"Lied to me," he repeated. "In accounting +for himself, from the time he came out into +the garden after dinner until Mr. Tranter +found him to deliver Miss Manderson's message, +he lied to me deliberately. I want to +know why."</p> + +<p>"You had better ask him," she retorted. +"I do not know."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bolsover, the theatrical manager, told +me that he found James Layton lurking by the +house, and called to Mr. Copplestone before +following him. Mr. Copplestone stated that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +the reason he did not hear that call was that he +had gone into the house to refill his cigarette-case, +and did not come out again until just before +Mr. Tranter found him after leaving Miss +Manderson. That statement was false."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"He did not go into the house to refill his +cigarette-case. He had had no opportunity +to smoke afterwards, and when I questioned +him his case was almost empty. He may have +gone in for another reason——or he may not +have gone in at all."</p> + +<p>"Is it not very trivial?" she said.</p> + +<p>"If you had been dealing with crimes and +criminals as long as I have," the inspector returned, +"you would know that nothing is trivial. +At present, Mr. Copplestone's time while the +crime was being committed is unaccounted for—and +he is detected in a lie. It is not a pleasant +position to be in."</p> + +<p>She was silent. Her hands moved nervously.</p> + +<p>"What is the use of telling me this?" she +asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +"It occurred to me," he replied, "that you +might be able to extricate him from that position."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she demanded resentfully.</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Can you?" he insisted, watching her closely.</p> + +<p>For a moment she paused. There was +malevolence in her gaze.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what he was doing," she said +obstinately.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said the inspector impressively, +"if George Copplestone stood in the dock in +front of you, and his life depended on the truth +of your answer—would it still be the same answer?"</p> + +<p>She turned on him.</p> + +<p>"In the dock? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Would it still be the same answer?" he repeated +sternly.</p> + +<p>"Do you suggest that he may have committed +the crime?" she exclaimed contemptuously. +"Its absurd!"</p> + +<p>"I told you," he said, "I suggest nothing. +My case must be complete. I want to know +the truth."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +Silence followed. She plucked angrily at +the lace edge of her gown. Inspector Fay +waited imperturbably.</p> + +<p>"He was with me," she said, at last, sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the inspector.</p> + +<p>There was another pause.</p> + +<p>"Please go on," he pressed her.</p> + +<p>She did not attempt to conceal her resentment +at his insistence. But the inspector's attitude +was compelling.</p> + +<p>"We had a private conversation," she said +viciously. "What passed between us concerned +only ourselves."</p> + +<p>"I have no wish to pry into that," he told +her. "But I should like to know why both +you and Mr. Copplestone preferred to tell me a +falsehood rather than admit that you were +talking together in the garden."</p> + +<p>"We had our reasons," she snapped, "for +not wishing it to be known that we had been +together. We had no time to speak privately +after the crime was discovered, and it evidently +seemed best to both of us, rather than +risk conflicting statements, not to admit that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +we had spoken to each other at all. I hope +you have nothing more to ask me."</p> + +<p>The inspector rose.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing more to ask you, madam," +he said politely. "I trust it will not be necessary +for me to trouble you again in this case. +But if it should be—you will find that in such +serious matters it is always better to speak the +truth. Good morning."</p> + +<p>He walked quickly out of the room, leaving +a lady in pink deshabille quivering with an +emotion that was not anger, but a new triumph.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Detained on Suspicion</span></p> + + +<p>Inspector Fay left the house of the +lady in pink with a satisfied expression on +his face. At the corner of the street he +hailed a taxi, and drove to Scotland Yard.</p> + +<p>Under the watchful eyes of his escort, James +Layton awaited him. The millionaire was +perfectly composed, and appeared to be under +no apprehension as to the outcome of his visit. +He accompanied the inspector to a private +room, and sat down in a comfortable chair +without the smallest sign of alarm.</p> + +<p>"Mr. James Layton?" the inspector began, +seating himself at a table.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Layton, I am Inspector Fay—in charge +of the investigations of the death of Miss +Christine Manderson, at Richmond, on Tuesday +night. I want you to be good enough to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +answer the questions I have to ask you as +clearly as possible."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," the young man replied, unhesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"To begin with—did you go to Richmond +on that night?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"Were you alone?"</p> + +<p>"I was."</p> + +<p>"Did you call at Mr. Copplestone's house at +half-past eight?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You asked to see Mr. Copplestone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And he refused to see you?"</p> + +<p>"He did."</p> + +<p>"What was your object in calling on him, +in that manner, at such an inconvenient time?"</p> + +<p>"I had just ascertained that Miss Manderson +had, or was about to, become engaged to +marry him. My object was to tell him that +he was not a fit person to be her husband, and +that I would prevent the marriage at all costs."</p> + +<p>"That you would prevent the marriage?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Because, in your opinion, he was unworthy +of her?"</p> + +<p>"Totally."</p> + +<p>"Had you any right to take upon yourself +the control of Miss Manderson's choice of a +husband?"</p> + +<p>"No right, perhaps—as you use the term."</p> + +<p>"As any one would use it?"</p> + +<p>"To my mind, yes."</p> + +<p>"To your mind you had a right to interfere +in that engagement?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"We will come back to that presently," the +inspector proceeded. "What did you do when +Mr. Copplestone refused to see you?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid my excitement got the better +of me. I forced my way past the servant, and +went into a room from which I heard voices, +thinking that he was there with her."</p> + +<p>"You knew, then, that she was in the house +at the time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I had previously telephoned to her +hotel, and her maid had told me that she was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +spending the evening at Copplestone's house."</p> + +<p>"I am told you burst into the room uttering +her name."</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"But you found only some guests of Mr. +Copplestone's, who had been invited to dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Was there anything strange about the +room?"</p> + +<p>"It was decorated in an extraordinary manner."</p> + +<p>"I think you made some remark about the +decorations?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I did. I had been told something +of Mr. Copplestone's eccentricities, and I inferred +that the engagement was an accomplished +fact, and that the decorations had been +put up in celebration of it."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember saying anything else in +the room?"</p> + +<p>"I said that rather than allow Miss Manderson +to be engaged to George Copplestone, I +would tear her to pieces with my own hands."</p> + +<p>"And utterly destroy her?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +"Yes."</p> + +<p>"A somewhat violent announcement," the +inspector observed.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it was."</p> + +<p>"You were in a state of great excitement, +were you not?"</p> + +<p>"I was very excited."</p> + +<p>"Almost beside yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that."</p> + +<p>"Were you responsible for your words and +actions at the time?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"You really meant what you said?"</p> + +<p>"I meant what I said," the young man declared +calmly.</p> + +<p>The inspector was writing rapidly.</p> + +<p>"You were then requested to leave the house, +and I think you left quite quietly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What did you do then?"</p> + +<p>"I climbed over the wall into the garden +and waited for an opportunity to get into the +house again and speak to Copplestone or Miss +Manderson."</p> + +<p>"You were behaving rather strangely, were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +you not, Mr. Layton?" the inspector asked.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I was."</p> + +<p>"If you had heard of any one else acting in +the same way, you would have thought that +he could hardly have been in a normal state of +mind?"</p> + +<p>"I expect I should."</p> + +<p>"Yet you say you were quite yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I was quite myself."</p> + +<p>"And prepared to carry out your threat?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what I was prepared to do. +I did not carry it out."</p> + +<p>"Later on, one of the guests, Mr. Bolsover, +found you creeping round the house towards +an open window?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Before he ran after you, do you remember +hearing him call to Mr. Copplestone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did."</p> + +<p>"Was there any answer?"</p> + +<p>"I did not hear one."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bolsover then followed you out in +the direction in which the crime was committed?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know where the crime was committed," +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +Layton replied firmly. "I know +nothing of the crime."</p> + +<p>"Whoever committed it managed to fulfill +your own threat fairly fully."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, yes."</p> + +<p>"Have you any suggestion to make as to +who that person may have been?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What, then, did you do when Mr. Bolsover +ran after you?"</p> + +<p>"I eluded him in the darkness, climbed over +the wall again, and went away."</p> + +<p>"Without having fulfilled your object?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Had you seen anything at all of Miss Manderson, +or Mr. Copplestone?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. James Layton waited +quietly while the inspector finished off his +notes. His face was a trifle paler than before, +but he betrayed no sign of agitation.</p> + +<p>"Now," resumed the inspector, "let us go +back. You said that to your mind you had a +right to interfere in Miss Manderson's engagement?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +"I did."</p> + +<p>"What had given you that right?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," the young man returned +courteously—"but I decline to answer that +question."</p> + +<p>"When and where did you first meet her?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you."</p> + +<p>"You would be wiser to do so."</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>The inspector's face darkened.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Layton," he said, with unmistakable +emphasis, "you had better not decline to answer +any question. I must warn you that your +position may become extremely serious."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," Layton remarked quietly, +"that you have already made up your mind +that I am guilty of the crime."</p> + +<p>"That is as it may be," replied the inspector. +"I am advising you for your own good. To +refuse to answer questions is not the way to +allay suspicion—but to increase it."</p> + +<p>"I realize that," the young man said. "But +I still refuse."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay leant back in his chair patiently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +"Come, Mr. Layton, you will only put us to +the trouble and delay of proving what you +might as well tell us at once. And it will do +you no good."</p> + +<p>"I should be sorry to cause you any additional +trouble," Layton replied. "But I have +my reasons."</p> + +<p>"Let me help you," continued the inspector. +"I have had inquiries made at Miss Manderson's +hotel, at the theater at which she was to +have appeared, of her maid, and various other +sources. We have got her time pretty well +accounted for. It seems that you have not +seen her at all since she arrived in this country +two months ago. Is that so?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, if you did see her once or twice, +there were certainly no opportunities for anything +to develop between you to account for +your behavior, or justify to the right to which +you considered yourself entitled. You must +have known her before."</p> + +<p>Layton was still silent. The inspector continued +easily.</p> + +<p>"I am wondering whether a cable across the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +Atlantic would bring me a description of a +certain Michael Cranbourne, once well known +in the United States—particularly in Chicago—son +of a multi-millionaire."</p> + +<p>James Layton stiffened in his chair. He +had become white and tense.</p> + +<p>"A large part in the career of Michael Cranbourne +was played by an adventuress named +Thea Colville—said, at one time, to have been +the most beautiful woman in America—and +known later, on the stage in New York, as +Christine Manderson."</p> + +<p>The young man rose. On his face there was +a wonderful new dignity and calm—a relief, as +if some heavy burden had dropped from him +and left him free.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said quietly, "I am Michael Cranbourne. +I might have admitted it at first. +What do you want now?"</p> + +<p>"The whole story," the inspector replied, +motioning him back to his chair.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," he said.</p> + +<p>He sat down again. A great contentment +seemed to rest upon him, as on one who reaches +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +the end of a difficult and tiring journey. There +was a long pause.</p> + +<p>"I first met Thea Colville," he began, at +last, "in Chicago, when I was twenty-five—seven +years ago. She was twenty. It would +be no use attempting to give you an idea of +what she was like. You never saw her alive. +No description could convey an impression of +her beauty—of her awful fascination. From +the moment I first saw her there was no other +woman in my world. I was engaged to be +married, but I put an end to it. People said I +behaved badly, but I didn't care. I couldn't +look at, or think of, another woman after I +had seen her. She enslaved me. I was hers, +body and soul. She held me helpless. I was +only one of many, but I was a favored one—at +least, I thought so."</p> + +<p>He told his story slowly, in a low voice, without +emotion. He was staring out straight in +front of him, forgetful of his surroundings +and his listener. The past held him.</p> + +<p>"My family warned me, and threatened me. +I knew they were telling me the truth—but I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +wouldn't listen. I hadn't been brought up to +care what results my actions brought on other +people. I thought only of myself—of the indulgence +of my own desires. I lived a useless, +contemptible life—entirely without scruples or +restraints. There was scarcely a vice that I +was not steeped in—hardly a sin that I had not +explored. I had enough money to gratify all +my senses. Nothing was beneath me. I +plunged into every depravity. I made new +depths for myself." He clenched his hands. +"And I led others after me."</p> + +<p>There was another pause. He sat rigid. +The inspector waited patiently.</p> + +<p>"I need not trouble you with unnecessary +details," the low voice went on. "It is enough +that for her sake I sacrificed all my prospects—I +threw away my heritage. To keep her for +myself I squandered every cent I could lay my +hands on. I robbed my own brother. I +forged my father's name. I did ... other +things. It was only the generosity of my +family that kept me from gaol. And Thea +threw me over."</p> + +<p>"Apparently," the inspector remarked, not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +unsympathetically, "her standard of morality +was on a somewhat similar level."</p> + +<p>"She is dead," said the young man gently. +"'<i>De mortuis nil nisi bonum.</i>'"</p> + +<p>The inspector shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"As you please," he said. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"She refused to see me—to have anything +more to do with me. She cut me out of her +life with one stroke. For the first time I knew +she hadn't cared. That broke me. I was very +ill. For a year I knew no one. I couldn't +hear or speak. They fed me like a child. +They thought I was mad"—his eyes began to +gleam unnaturally, his words quickened—"but +in reality I was in the presence of God. I was +in the image I had brought upon my soul—black, +hideous, distorted, reeking with the filth +of my sins. I saw myself—in all the degradation +I had brought upon the Shape of God. +I saw my own page in the Book of Life. All +the entries were on the debit side. The credit +side was bare. I waited for damnation—but +there is no damnation. There is only Building. +I went out from the presence of God—a +Builder."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +His face was transformed. His voice rang +with triumph—with the pride of victory.</p> + +<p>"I came to myself. It was like waking from +the dead. It was a long time before I recovered +even a little of my strength. Every +hand was against me—except my mother's. +She stood by me. When she died, a year later, +I inherited the whole of her fortune. The +others tried to take it away from me, but I +fought them. I had new uses for the money. +I came over to this country, and began my +work. For four years I have given myself and +all I have. Go and see for yourself what I +have done. Go and see the men, women, and +children who would die for me. Go and hear +them bless my name. Hear of the lives I have +built—the light I have brought. I have filled +up my credit side. I have a balance in hand +in the Book of Life."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay remained silent. He was a +severely practical man. Before his mind there +was only the outcome of the interview. The +young man controlled himself with an effort. +His excitement passed. He was again quiet +and composed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +"None of my old passions or inclinations +remained—except my love for Thea. I +couldn't crush it. I fought against it with all +my strength. I struggled to stamp it out, but +it was unconquerable. Her face was always in +front of me, day and night. Her voice was +always in my ears. I couldn't escape. I heard +nothing more of her until about six weeks ago, +when I saw a photograph of her in one of the +papers under the name of Christine Manderson, +with a statement that she had arrived in +London to play at the Imperial Theater. The +longing to see her again was too strong for +me. Day after day I waited outside the stage-door +of the theater—until she came, in all her +fatal, maddening beauty. We stood facing +each other ... and she passed me by without +a word."</p> + +<p>His voice broke. He pressed his thin hands +together.</p> + +<p>"The madness came over me again. The +sight of her fanned all the old flames. I was +on fire. I tried to follow her, but they kept me +out. I wrote to her that night, telling her what +I had done, how I had suffered, and begging, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +imploring her to let me see her. The answer +was a curt note, in the third person, saying +that she declined to receive any communication +from me whatsoever."</p> + +<p>Again he paused. The inspector made no +comment.</p> + +<p>"I found out where she was staying, what +her plans were, and who were her friends. I +discovered that she had come under the influence +of George Copplestone, who is little better +than I was once. The thought that she was to +be the sport of his depravity drove me to +frenzy. I neglected my work. I could do +nothing. Then I heard that they were on the +point of becoming engaged. The rest you +know. I followed her to Copplestone's house. +She had evidently warned him against me. +I forced my way into the room, calling her by +the name of Christine——"</p> + +<p>"Why?" the inspector asked</p> + +<p>"Because it was obvious that she would not +wish the name of Thea Colville to be known to +London. That is all I have to tell you."</p> + +<p>The inspector rose.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cranbourne," he said formally, "after +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +hearing your story, I am afraid I have no +option but to detain you on suspicion of having +caused the death of Christine Manderson, +otherwise Thea Colville, and to warn you that +anything you say may be used in evidence +against you."</p> + +<p>The young man heard him without a +tremor.</p> + +<p>"I did not kill her," he said firmly. "God's +will be done."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Birth of the Killer</span></p> + + +<p>Monsieur Dupont was one of +those fortunate individuals who +can sleep in a train.</p> + +<p>He left Paddington at one +o'clock, and slept for an hour, a sleep of childlike +ease and innocence. When he woke the +train was within five minutes of his destination. +He alighted at a small country station, and instituted +inquiries for a conveyance.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later, an unimpressionable +horse, attached to a hybrid vehicle, was jogging +him along country lanes which would have +delighted a man with less serious purposes. +But Monsieur Dupont was too much occupied +with the uglinesses of humanity to heed the +beauties of nature. It was not until they arrived +at the outskirts of a small village that +he began to look about him with interest.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely spot, nestling in primeval +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +innocence under the shelter of protecting hills. +Monsieur Dupont uttered a heavy sigh, and +spoke, for the first time during the drive, to +the stout, sunburnt lad who conducted the +equipage.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said sorrowfully, "who +could imagine that such a corner of heaven +could have been the cradle of one of the most +terrible tragedies of the world? I feel like +a purveyor of sins, creeping into the preserves +of God."</p> + +<p>The startled stare that confronted him was +not helpful to further conversation. The disconcerted +youth vigorously obtained fresh impetus +from their source of progress, and drew +up at length, with obvious relief, before a low, +creeper-covered house, lying in a nest of +flowers.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont's gentle knock produced a +rubicund housekeeper, of about eighty, who +blended in perfect harmony with the house, the +creeper, and the flowers.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Lessing, if you please, madame," +said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>He was shown into a small library, opening +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +on to the garden. The room was flooded with +sunshine. There were flowers everywhere.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>," said Monsieur Dupont, aloud, +"that I should come to ask such questions +here."</p> + +<p>He turned as the door opened, and bowed +before a sturdy, white-haired old man, bronzed +with the health of the country.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Dupont?" said the doctor. +"What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont took a letter from his +pocket, and unfolded it.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, I beg you to read this letter. It +is from the French Embassy, and begs assistance +to me in an investigation that I am making."</p> + +<p>Doctor Lessing read the letter, and returned +it.</p> + +<p>"I shall be happy to assist you in any way I +can," he said, courteously. "Please sit down."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont sat down by the open windows +and drank in the fragrance of the garden.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Lessing," he began, "I believe it is +for a long time that you have lived in this +beautiful place?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +"For forty-five years," the old doctor smiled +contentedly. "But I am by no means one of +its oldest inhabitants. Lives are long in the +country. To what period do you wish to +refer?"</p> + +<p>"A period," Monsieur Dupont replied, +"nearly forty years ago. I do not know +exactly."</p> + +<p>"A long stretch," said Doctor Lessing ruefully. +"But my memory shall do its best for +you. That is all I can promise."</p> + +<p>"I am engaged," said Monsieur Dupont, "on +an extraordinary quest. I do not think that +any human being has ever been engaged on a +more extraordinary quest."</p> + +<p>"A pleasant one, I trust," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"As much to the contrary as it is possible +to imagine."</p> + +<p>The doctor murmured a regret and waited +for his huge visitor to continue.</p> + +<p>"Do you," Monsieur Dupont inquired, "recollect +the name of Winslowe?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Lessing started slightly.</p> + +<p>"Winslowe?"</p> + +<p>"Oscar Winslowe."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +A keen glance flashed from the doctor's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said quickly, "I recollect the +name."</p> + +<p>"He lived, I think in this village at the time +I have said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." The reply was a trifle curt.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Monsieur Dupont proceeded +evenly, "there were circumstances in connection +with that name which helped to fix it in +your memory?"</p> + +<p>"There were certain circumstances," the +doctor admitted, "which made it a name that I +am unlikely to forget."</p> + +<p>"Unpleasant circumstances?" queried Monsieur +Dupont.</p> + +<p>"The most unpleasant that have ever occurred +to me in the whole length of my practice."</p> + +<p>"It is for that story," said Monsieur Dupont, +"that I have come to ask. May I beg +all the details that you can recall?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will first tell me," the doctor +returned, "for what purpose you require this +information?"</p> + +<p>"I require it," Monsieur Dupont replied impressively, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +"to save the life of an innocent +man, who is wrongly accused of the crime +of murder. I require it also prove three +deaths, and possibly to prevent another three."</p> + +<p>Again the doctor started. His hands +gripped the arms of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Three deaths?" he exclaimed sharply. +"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Three deaths," repeated Monsieur Dupont. +"Of three very beautiful women."</p> + +<p>The doctor sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he cried hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me the story?" said Monsieur +Dupont.</p> + +<p>Doctor Lessing sat down again in his chair. +He was considerably shaken. He leant back +and closed his eyes, remaining silent for a few +moments.</p> + +<p>"I think," he began at last, "that I can, at +all events, remember the chief facts of the case. +It was such a remarkable and distressing one +that it stands out in the annals of such a peaceful +spot as this, and it has therefore remained +in my memory, though so much else has faded. +But you must make allowances for the flight +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +of time. Look out of the window to the left, +and you will see a large red house, on the slope +of the hill."</p> + +<p>"I see it," said Monsieur Dupont, following +the direction.</p> + +<p>"That was Oscar Winslowe's house, forty +years ago. Winslowe was an unprincipled and +dissolute man. He was only about twenty-five +or six at that time, but already he was +sodden with drink, drugs, and vice of every +description. He was the worst kind of blackguard. +But his wife was the exact opposite +to him, a gentle, delicate girl. She was not +beautiful, but her nature more than compensated +for lack of beauty. He had married +her for her money, and treated her abominably. +I became friendly with her, partly because of +the pity I felt for her on account of his treatment, +and partly because I sincerely admired +the beauty of her character. In consequence +of that friendship, I undertook to watch over +her entry into motherhood."</p> + +<p>"That is what I want," said Monsieur Dupont. +"Her entry into motherhood."</p> + +<p>"The more I saw of her," continued the doctor, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +"the greater grew my pity. There have +been wonderful women in the world who have +made history by their patience and endurance—but +this woman was one of those, equally +brave and equally patient, of whom history +knows nothing. She worshipped her husband, +blindly, dumbly—as an animal will still love +the man or woman who ill-treats it. She never +uttered a word of complaint or blame. Her +greatest hope was that the advent of the child +would induce from him something of the consideration +and tenderness that he had never +given her. She believed it was some fault, +some shortcoming, of hers that had kept it +from her. It didn't occur to her that it might +be the beauty of another woman."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Monsieur Dupont eagerly.</p> + +<p>"She discovered that about three months before +the child was born. I can't remember +how the discovery came about. She followed +him to London—and found him, even that +short time before the birth of his child, lavishing +on a beautiful society woman all that should +have been hers."</p> + +<p>In spite of the years that had passed the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +doctor's voice still rose in anger. He paused, +checking himself.</p> + +<p>"Before that supreme insult, that shattering +of her hopes, the poor girl lost her reason. +In the state of her health, it was not surprising. +She, who would never have harmed a fly, who +had never wished ill to any one in her life, +became possessed with an awful fury to stamp +out the beauty that had robbed her—to destroy +the face and body that were more to the man +she loved than her own. The other woman, +undeserving of consideration as she was, narrowly +escaped a horrible punishment. The unfortunate +girl was brought back here, and I +was sent for to attend her. She grew worse +hour after hour. Her mind was completely +unhinged. From a furious hatred of the beauty +of the woman who had wronged her, the mania +increased into a furious hatred of beauty in any +shape or form, and a savage lust to destroy it. +In the house there were many portraits of the +beautiful women of the Winslowe family. She +tore the pictures to shreds. There were +statues and valuable works of art. She +smashed them all to pulp. Her madness was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +the most terrible thing I have ever seen. She +had to be forcibly restrained."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont listened intently. There +was an expression of triumph on his face.</p> + +<p>"A pitiful story," he said softly.</p> + +<p>"She partially recovered in a few weeks," +the doctor went on, "and before the three +months were up her reason, if not actually +sound again, was at least restored. But she +was a wreck of a woman. There was darkness +all round her. She heard nothing more of +Winslowe. He never came back to the house. +The madness returned when she gave birth to +her child, and she died in an asylum a fortnight +afterwards."</p> + +<p>A longer pause followed. The recitation of +his memories moved the good old doctor as +the actual experience must have moved the +young man of forty years before. He rose, +and walked to the window, sniffing the scent +of the flowers with relief.</p> + +<p>"She left the care of the child to the nurse +who was devoted to her, with ample funds for +its future. When the affairs were settled up, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +the nurse took the child away with her, and I +have not seen her since."</p> + +<p>He made a relieved gesture.</p> + +<p>"That is the whole story," he said.</p> + +<p>"The nurse," inquired Monsieur Dupont, +"what was her name?"</p> + +<p>"Masters. Miss Elizabeth Masters."</p> + +<p>"Is she still alive?"</p> + +<p>"So far as I know she is," the doctor replied. +"But I should not have been likely +to have heard of her death, if it had taken +place."</p> + +<p>"Can you assist me to discover her address?"</p> + +<p>"She wrote to me periodically," Doctor Lessing +returned. "She was an excellent nurse, +and I got her some cases in town. But it is a +long time since I last heard from her. There +may be one or two old letters of hers in my +desk. If you will excuse me for a moment, I +will see if I can find them for you."</p> + +<p>He left the room. Monsieur Dupont turned +to the window, and gazed dreamily out into +the sunshine.</p> + +<p>"And so," he muttered—"in this corner of +paradise the Destroyer was born."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Hasty Flight</span></p> + + +<p>Doctor Lessing re-entered the +room with a letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>"The last address I can find," he +said, "is 35, De Vere Terrace, +Streatham. That is sixteen years old, but as +it tells me that she had only just moved in, +you might find her still there."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont made a note of the address.</p> + +<p>"There remains only one question," he said, +replacing his pocket-book. "Can you tell me +the name of the child?"</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't. The child was christened +in the church here, but I was away at +the time, and when I returned Miss Masters +had gone to London."</p> + +<p>"It is very important," said Monsieur Dupont. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +"Perhaps I can discover it at the +church?"</p> + +<p>"You will not find any one to tell you at +this time," the doctor replied. "But, if you +will leave me your address, I will send over +to the parsonage this evening and ask Mr. +Wickham to turn it up in the register, and +let you know."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont delivered himself of profuse +thanks. Five minutes later he had taken +leave of the old doctor, and was returning to +the station under the guidance of the sunburnt +youth, who was obviously relieved when the +expedition terminated.</p> + +<p>He slept peacefully until the train reached +Paddington.</p> + +<p>It was five o'clock when he returned to the +Savoy. The girl, Jenny West, was waiting for +him. She was as white as death.</p> + +<p>"They have charged him," she sobbed. "He +is remanded for a week."</p> + +<p>He laid a hand gently on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Do not be afraid," he said. "He will be +saved. I have given my word—the word of +Dupont—that he will be saved."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +He sat down at his writing table, and wrote +rapidly for several minutes. He covered four +or five sheets of paper, and placed them in an +envelope.</p> + +<p>"Here, mademoiselle," he said, rising, "are +your instructions for to-morrow morning. Do +not read them until you are alone. A car will +be waiting for you here at ten o'clock in the +morning. In the afternoon you will be at +liberty to visit Monsieur Layton. I shall expect +to see you here at one o'clock."</p> + +<p>He bowed her out of the room. Half an +hour later, he was on his way to Streatham.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A grim expression settled on his face as the +journey proceeded, yet it was not altogether +unmixed with pity. He was a man of ready +sympathy. The doctor's story had evidently +moved him to view his task with a new compassion.</p> + +<p>As his car turned into De Vere Terrace, he +became alert, and scrutinized the houses +closely. They were small semi-detached villas. +He alighted in front of number 35, passed up +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +the carefully kept front garden, and knocked +at the door.</p> + +<p>There was no response. He knocked again, +several times, but the silence of the house remained +undisturbed. He left the door, and +glanced in at the front windows, but the room +was so dark that he could discern nothing. +He walked round to the back. Through the +uncurtained kitchen windows he saw a fire +in the range. It had almost burnt itself out. +There were cooking utensils on the table. +Some pastry was rolled out on a board. +Apparently the household operations had +been somewhat rudely interrupted, and very +hastily abandoned. The back door and windows +were securely fastened. Returning to +the front, he carefully closed the gate, and +knocked at the door of the adjoining house.</p> + +<p>The name of the house was "Sans Souci," +and the door was opened by a lady in rich +purple, with a string of pearls.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont swept off his hat.</p> + +<p>"Madame, I make a thousand apologies! +Can you tell me when I shall find Miss Masters +at home."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +His extreme bulk and the fact that he was +not an Englishman seemed to cause the lady +considerable amusement.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," she said engagingly. +"I think she's gone away."</p> + +<p>"Away?" Monsieur Dupont echoed.</p> + +<p>"She left in a great hurry two hours ago," +the lady informed him. "In a motor."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont appeared somewhat staggered.</p> + +<p>"Two hours ago...." he muttered.</p> + +<p>"I heard a noise going on in the house," +continued the lady, "as if she was packing +quickly. She went off with a couple of boxes, +and seemed very impatient."</p> + +<p>"It is most unfortunate," said Monsieur Dupont +mildly. "I have come all the way from +the Strand to see her."</p> + +<p>The lady laughed freely.</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry," she said good-naturedly. +"Won't you come in and rest a bit?"</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "you are very good, but +I must return to the Strand. Would you allow +me to ask you some questions, without finding +me impertinent?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +"What are they?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me if any particular person +was in the habit of visiting Miss Masters?"</p> + +<p>The lady stiffened slightly.</p> + +<p>"Are you a friend of Miss Masters?" she +inquired, shortly.</p> + +<p>"I am not," Monsieur Dupont admitted +frankly. "I have never seen her. It is a few +hours ago that I heard her name for the first +time."</p> + +<p>"I really cannot answer any questions to a +stranger," said the lady stiffly. "I don't know +you."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont bowed.</p> + +<p>"If you did, madame," he said, "I should +be the proudest of men. Do me the favor to +read this letter."</p> + +<p>He produced the letter from the French +Embassy, and handed it to her. She read it, +and was duly impressed.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll do anything for the French +Embassy," she said, returning the letter with +dignity. "Miss Masters wasn't what you +might call a friend of mine. I used to speak +to her because she lived in the next house, but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +it didn't go beyond that. She kept very much +to herself. I don't want to say anything at +all unkind, but very few ladies in our set knew +her. Of course it wasn't her fault, but she +was not exactly classy. And when one lives +in a neighborhood like this, it's class that tells."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont bowed again.</p> + +<p>"Obviously, madame," he said.</p> + +<p>"The only person that used to visit her," +continued the gratified lady, "was a man who +often used to arrive in the evening and stay the +night. We understood she was an old nurse +of his, or something of the kind, and that he +more or less provided for her."</p> + +<p>"And this man, madame—what was he +like?"</p> + +<p>"He was rather tall," she said, "and had a +dark moustache. He was always well dressed, +and looked quite a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"You heard his name?"</p> + +<p>"No—we never heard his name. I did tell +my house-parlor-maid to try to find out once, +but she couldn't. Miss Masters actually accused +me of prying."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>," said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +"We had a bit of a row," said the lady candidly.</p> + +<p>"Does she live alone, madame?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite alone. She does everything for +herself."</p> + +<p>"My last question," said Monsieur Dupont, +"may seem remarkable. It is this. Have +strange things appeared to be happening in the +house during the visits of the tall gentleman +with the dark moustache?"</p> + +<p>She started, looking at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"Strange things?" she repeated slowly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—violent things."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's queer," she exclaimed. "As +a matter of fact, we once heard the most +extraordinary noises going on when he was +there. My husband thought of sending in to +ask if anything was the matter."</p> + +<p>"What kind of noises, madame?"</p> + +<p>"Like as it might be heavy things being +thrown about and smashed," said the lady +elegantly.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont swept off his hat again.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, madame," he said—and went +back to his car.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Tranter Attacks the Crooked House</span></p> + + +<p>In the evening, Tranter set off to the +Crooked House.</p> + +<p>It was dark when he reached it, and the +roads were empty. Through the open +lodge gates he slipped into the garden unseen. +The place seemed deserted. The front of the +house showed not a glimmer of light. The +whole ugly shape of it stood out gauntly against +the sky of the summer night. In the shadow +of the trees, he stood watching it, alert to detect +a sign of life. But no such sign appeared. +The Crooked House was as dark and silent as +a tomb.</p> + +<p>He crept nearer, keeping under cover of the +trees, and skirted the lawns to the back of the +house. There, also, darkness reigned. No +sound disturbed the stillness. Facing him +were the dark shapes of the trees surrounding +the wing of the house which extended from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +the opposite corner. The foliage was so dense +that no part of the wing itself was visible. He +moved quickly across the back of the house, +and reached the trees. As he passed under +them, it seemed that he was feeling his way +among monstrous sentinels of a dark mystery.</p> + +<p>A thick hedge loomed up in front of him. +It appeared to surround the entire wing. He +walked round, trying to find a place thin +enough to allow him to push his way through—but +the hedge was evidently there for the +express purpose of defeating such an intention. +It was impossible to penetrate it, to creep under +it, or to climb over it. At the extremity of +the wing, about which the trees were thickest, +he saw a faint light, escaping round the edge +of a blind.</p> + +<p>He stopped beneath it. It was a meager, +unpleasant light, too dim to be of any greater +use in the room than to afford the barest relief +from complete darkness. The window was +half overgrown with ivy, and he could see that +it was filthily dirty. The light continually +flickered, and once or twice it seemed to have +died out altogether. An eerie sensation began +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +to possess him. He felt very strongly the evil +influence of the house. Curiosity to discover +what sinister secret it really harbored increased +and nerved him.</p> + +<p>Again he tried to force a way through the +hedge, but everywhere it was an impassable +barrier. Slowly and noiselessly he worked his +way round the wing, only to find it completely +enclosed on all sides. He returned, and stood +looking up at the window. Either the light +was brighter, or the gap at the edge of the +blind had widened. He thought he saw a faint +shadow pass and re-pass.</p> + +<p>It was not until, in moving to one side, he +struck his head against a massive bough of +one of the great trees that the possibility of +utilizing them as a means of access to the forbidden +enclosure occurred to him. He examined +the bough. It extended well over the +hedge, and would form a perfectly secure +bridge. By creeping a few feet along it, he +would be able to drop down on the other side +of the hedge. Finding the main trunk, he +tested his weight on a smaller bough, and +swung himself up into the tree.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +A few minutes later he stood within the barrier. +The window was some twelve or fifteen +feet above him. But the walls were thickly +clad with ivy, and ivy is an excellent ladder. +Carefully he began to climb.</p> + +<p>He reached the window, found himself a +secure footing, and peered round the edge of +the blind. But the light was so poor, and the +panes were so dirty, on both sides, that had +there been anything to see he could have been +very little the wiser. As it was, the small area +of the room into which he could dimly peer +seemed to be carpetless and unfurnished. +There was no movement, no sound. The light +itself apparently came from the further end +of the room, from the level of a table. He +clung on, undecided how to proceed. It appeared +that the only thing to do was to wait and +listen for some indication of the purpose of the +dismal illumination.</p> + +<p>He looked at his watch. It was ten-thirty. +After a wait of what seemed at least half an +hour, he looked again. Ten minutes only had +passed. No discernible movement had taken +place in the room. Yet he felt perfectly, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +very unpleasantly, certain that it was occupied—that +something was proceeding within it +which, had the blind not intervened, would +have revealed the secret of the house. Of +what it might be he could form no idea—but, +for the first time in his life, he was experiencing, +in his mental tenseness and the sinister +silence of the surroundings, that sensation +which attests a proximity to evil. He was +daunted. Fear was a condition to which he +was a stranger, but a vivid nervousness was +beginning to seize upon him. A sense of personal +danger, an element which, so far, he had +scarcely considered, was attacking him, and +gaining ground. The perspiration was standing +out on his face. He found that his hands +were cold and wet. The pulses of his body +were throbbing; he felt his strength growing +less. Muttering a curse, he braced himself +with a strong effort. He was accustomed to +consider his nerves impregnable. Many times +in his life he had known himself to be in far +greater danger than he could attribute to the +present situation, and such weakness had never +assailed him. On four occasions he had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +been aware that his life was hanging by a +thread, and had gloried in his own coolness. +And now ... without a doubt the Crooked +House was evil.</p> + +<p>Still he waited. Another twenty minutes +slowly passed.</p> + +<p>He started. His hands closed tightly on the +trunk of the ivy to which he was clinging. +The door of the room had been closed with a +slam. He could hear heavy footsteps on the +uncarpeted floor. A shadow blotted out the +light.</p> + +<p>A moment later, a voice—a man's voice, +horribly strained and unnatural—rose in a +shout of fury.</p> + +<p>"Damn you!" it screamed. "Look at your +work! Look at it again! Open your rotten +eyes and look! Look! Look!"</p> + +<p>Tranter was so startled that he almost lost +his footing on the ivy. There was no mistaking +the voice—it was the scream of madness. +He listened for an answer, but there was no +sound in response. Then the same voice +laughed—a laugh of awful bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Are you satisfied? The thing is creeping +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +on. I am getting nearer to you hour by hour. +I am more like you to-night. One more grain +went yesterday—another to-day. Another +will go to-morrow...." Again the voice rose +to a shriek of rage and hatred. "Oh, God! +There is no hope! No hope! Only on—and +on—to that!"</p> + +<p>The words trailed off into a sob of agony. +Still Tranter could hear no reply.</p> + +<p>Silence followed. The shadow again blotted +out the light; then sprang aside, and the voice +burst out into a fresh paroxysm of madness, +yelling a stream of curses at the object of its +fury. The madman's frenzy was utterly revolting +to listen to, but Tranter searched it +closely for some clue to the identity of the +person, or thing, to whom it was addressed. +The voice rose again to a shriek; then subsided +as before into a feeble wail of misery.</p> + +<p>"Oh God!" it moaned—"is there no way +... no way? No road but that road? No +end but that end? Oh God, have mercy ... +have mercy...."</p> + +<p>It was a cry of unspeakable anguish—the +prayer of a soul in torment. It seemed to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +Tranter that the speaker had thrown himself +down, and was beating the floor with his hands.</p> + +<p>There was silence again. Then, for the first +time, Tranter became aware of another presence +in the room. Though he could neither +see nor hear anything, he was conscious of a +new, indefinable movement. For a moment +horror almost overcame him. He trembled. +His nerves failed. The support of the ivy +seemed to be giving way under him. He +clutched at the framework of the window itself.</p> + +<p>The shadow of a figure leapt up from the +floor and bounded to the window. The blind +was wrenched aside, the window thrown open, +and before Tranter had time to recover himself +or attempt to escape, the livid, distorted face +of George Copplestone was almost touching +his own.</p> + +<p>A hand closed on his throat in a murderous +grip, another seized his wrist. In spite of his +frantic struggles, he was dragged with superhuman +strength through the window into the +room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Duel</span></p> + + +<p>On the afternoon of the same day, +an hour after the departure of Inspector +Fay, Mrs. Astley-Rolfe had +sped herself to Richmond, in a +luxurious motor car, which was her's through +the instrumentality of Mr. Gluckstein.</p> + +<p>She had found the house of George Copplestone +plunged into the darkness of a house of +mourning. Every blind was drawn. Every +particle of color had been removed or draped. +Black reigned supreme.</p> + +<p>Copplestone was not pleased to see her, and +made no attempt to assume the contrary. He +was sitting in his library, moody and melancholy, +still in the half-dazed condition into +which the death of Christine Manderson had +cast him. His face was drawn, haggard, and +sickly; his eyes were bloodshot. He looked up +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +at her with a forbidding frown, and did not +move from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said curtly.</p> + +<p>She waved a hand round the black room.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this ... a trifle theatrical?" she +asked coolly.</p> + +<p>He said nothing. She sat down opposite to +him uninvited. She was perfectly self-possessed.</p> + +<p>"Inspector Fay was kind enough to call on +me this morning," she remarked pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Again there was no reply.</p> + +<p>"He may not be an example of dagger-like +intelligence," she continued, looking at him +steadily—"but he is just a little too sharp to +play with."</p> + +<p>He scowled at her.</p> + +<p>"Have you come to tell me that?" he asked +rudely.</p> + +<p>"That—and other things," she returned unruffled.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear them," he retorted.</p> + +<p>"They concern you," she said—"rather +closely."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear them," he repeated.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +Her lips tightened.</p> + +<p>"It is scarcely pleasant to be such an obviously +unwelcome visitor," she said evenly. +"But I am afraid you must listen."</p> + +<p>"I am not in the humor to talk to you," +he declared roughly. "I don't want to talk +to any one. I want to be left alone. Isn't +it enough to be pestered by the police and the +papers, and all the damnable business for the +inquest? Don't you see that my house is in +mourning? Can't you let me be—even for a +few days?"</p> + +<p>"If I had let you be," she replied easily, +"Inspector Fay would probably be here in my +place—with much less pleasant intentions."</p> + +<p>His glance sharpened.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he growled.</p> + +<p>"You were not wise," she proceeded tranquilly, +"to treat his mental capabilities with +quite so much contempt. They are possibly +not startlingly brilliant, and he is perfectly easy +to deceive. But even an official detective can +see through a clumsy lie."</p> + +<p>Uneasiness flashed across his face. She +smiled slightly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +"And I am afraid, my friend, that you are +a clumsy liar."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you are talking about," +he snapped.</p> + +<p>"Come," she said quietly—"however freely +we may trifle with the very much overrated +Arm of the Law, at least let us be honest with +each other. For some reason or other, you did +not tell Inspector Fay the truth."</p> + +<p>He sat upright with a jerk, flamed with +passion.</p> + +<p>"What the devil is it to do with you?" he +demanded fiercely.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you in a moment," she returned +smoothly. "When you accounted for your +time to the inspector, you told him that you +went into the house to refill your cigarette +case?"</p> + +<p>His lethargy had disappeared. He leant +forward, staring at her, his hands clutching +the arms of his chair.</p> + +<p>"But, unfortunately, you did not take the +elementary precaution of having a full case +to support the story. In nine times out of ten +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +you would have got away with it. This was +the tenth."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment. She sat +in an easy attitude, meeting his gaze with complete +confidence. No trace of his previous +dullness remained. He was alert and taut.</p> + +<p>She went on, with delightful smoothness.</p> + +<p>"With an unpardonable lack of respect for +the statement of a gentleman, it occurred to the +inspector to test the truth of that account. He +did not want to smoke—but he asked you for a +cigarette. It was a gentle trap. There were +only two in your case."</p> + +<p>He ground out an oath under his breath.</p> + +<p>"Obviously you had not gone into the house +to refill your case. Perhaps you went in for +some other reason. Perhaps you didn't go in +at all. Anyway, you lied—and when people +deliberately lie in such serious cases as these, it +may safely be imagined that they have some +object to serve in doing so. The inspector was +concerned to discover what your object was. +So he came to me."</p> + +<p>"To you...." he muttered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +"I told you," she returned, "that he is a little +too sharp to play with—clumsily. He suspected, +from what had been told him, that we +might have had a stormy scene together, and +had wished to keep it to ourselves. He was +quite ready to believe that the time you had +failed so lamentably to account for had really +been passed with me in '<i>une petite scène de +jalousie</i>.' Fortunately, I had given him a true +account of myself, which was that I had been +alone. So after the necessary hesitation, and +with just the right amount of annoyance, I was +able to confess that we had both lied, and that +we had in fact been together—and he went +away satisfied. I am a better liar than +you."</p> + +<p>She regarded him serenely. His expression +was ugly. There was that in the look of him +that might have daunted any woman, but +Phyllis Astley-Rolfe had lived chiefly by her +wits for a sufficient time to be quite impervious +where another would have been silenced. She +was as completely without fear as she was +without scruple. Her objects were objects to +be gained, by the most convenient and speedy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +means, and quite irrespective of considerations +which might have withheld another from attempting +to fulfill them. In furtherance of her +present object, she gave Copplestone look for +look.</p> + +<p>"I return good for evil," she said. "It +is not a habit of mine. It is really quite contrary +to my usual practice. I told a lie to +save you from further suspicion. Considering +the circumstances, you must admit that it was +exceedingly generous of me. And I expect +you to be grateful."</p> + +<p>Anything but an expression of gratitude confronted +her. He remained silent, making a +strong effort to mask his agitation. But his +fingers twitched spasmodically, and there was +unmistakable fear in his eyes. She watched +him intently, losing no point of the effect she +had created.</p> + +<p>"Well...?" she said steadily.</p> + +<p>There was no answer. She bent towards +him.</p> + +<p>"I said you were with me. You were not +with me. Where were you?"</p> + +<p>The man breathed heavily, his baleful gaze +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +fixed on her. She met it with unassailable +composure.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she said slowly—"there are strange +things in this house. I know it. I've known +it for some time. Things that the light of day +never shines on. What are they?"</p> + +<p>He sprang up, and stood over her with +clenched hands, his face torn with fury.</p> + +<p>"Damn you!" he cried hoarsely. "What is +my house, or what happens in it, to you?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down," she said firmly. "You are not +frightening me. To threaten a woman is +merely to increase her tenacity, and mine requires +no fortification. Please move away +from me."</p> + +<p>He obeyed, muttering. Her calmness disarmed +him.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure," she continued, "that I +wanted you to answer my question—anyway +at present. Perhaps your secrets might be too +much, even for my conscience—and that is saying +a great deal."</p> + +<p>He had resumed his chair. There was a moment's +pause.</p> + +<p>"You were foolish to mock me," she went on. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +"Mockery is the one thing a woman cannot +accept, or forgive. She can stand any amount +of ill-treatment and cruelty, in a sufficient cause. +But she cannot be mocked in any cause whatever. +You made me certain promises, which +honor bound you to fulfil—and then flung your +renunciation of them in my face, before +strangers who understood. It was a very +mean and low-down thing to do."</p> + +<p>A faint, sneering smile passed over his face. +Her voice hardened.</p> + +<p>"I am not a woman to defy—and I am still +less a woman to mock. You are going to keep +your promises."</p> + +<p>"I'll see you in hell first!" he retorted +brutally.</p> + +<p>She laughed. "You will not see me in hell +first," she said calmly. "You may quite possibly +see me in hell after—because if there is +a hell we shall certainly meet there. But in +the meantime—you are going to redeem your +word."</p> + +<p>He made a slow gesture round the black +room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +"You come to me now ... within a few +hours...."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she returned hardly.</p> + +<p>"Almost before her body is cold...."</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Christine Manderson was an incident," she +said indifferently. "A disagreeable episode. +She merely infatuated you, as she might have +infatuated any man. She has passed."</p> + +<p>"Passed," he muttered. "Passed...."</p> + +<p>"I do not profess to equal her in appearance," +she admitted. "But I am not repulsive. +I am considered to be extremely good-looking, +and I am much more interesting to talk to than +she was. Also, I am well-bred. Most people +would find the balance in my favor. But, even +if you do not, the difference can only be very +small. You will have to make the best of it."</p> + +<p>"Or else?" he snarled.</p> + +<p>"Or else, if you prefer it, I will exchange +your promises for the secrets of this house—with +no undertaking to keep them."</p> + +<p>He sat biting his nails in the suppression of +his rage. She languidly corrected the folds of +her dress, leant back in a charming attitude, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +and waited with unassailable self-possession. +The silence was long.</p> + +<p>"How much do you want?" he demanded, +at last.</p> + +<p>"I am not asking you for money," she replied +coldly.</p> + +<p>"I am offering it unasked," he retorted. +"How much do you want?"</p> + +<p>"If you had offered to buy back your promises +a week ago," she said, "I might have sold +them to you. I do not know that I particularly +looked forward to their fulfilment. But you +flaunted another woman in my face."</p> + +<p>"Put it all in the bill," he said coarsely.</p> + +<p>"Therefore I will give you nothing back. +You shall have only your bond."</p> + +<p>"Why waste your breath on heroics to me?" +he sneered. "You would sell your soul for +money. You have often boasted it."</p> + +<p>"I would sell my soul for money any day," +she agreed frankly—"but not my pride. I am +too much of a sinner already to scruple over the +disposal of my soul. But it would not profit +me to gain the whole world, and lose my pride."</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" he said contemptuously. "Pride +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +pays no bills—and you owe too many to let it +deprive you of the pleasure of getting rid of +a few."</p> + +<p>"That is as it may be," she returned. "I +have told you the only exchange I will make."</p> + +<p>He sprang up again. This time his anger +was scornful.</p> + +<p>"Fool!" he cried harshly. "Take your +warning! Do you think my secrets—if I have +any—are for you? Or that I, myself, am for +you? Why do you try to force yourself on to +dangerous ground? There are things in the +world into which it is not good to pry."</p> + +<p>"Plenty," she said, unmoved.</p> + +<p>"I may have made you careless promises," +he admitted. "I have made many women +promises. It is a bad habit. I cannot keep +them. I cannot, and will not, marry you, or +any other woman. The only one I might have +married ... is dead."</p> + +<p>"Again you throw her in my face," she +murmured, through closed teeth.</p> + +<p>"I daresay I used you meanly," he acknowledged. +"I <i>did</i> use you meanly. It was not +the game to do what I did that night. I freely +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +admit it. And I offer you reparation—the +only reparation I can make. It would be the +wisest act of your life to take it."</p> + +<p>"You have heard my conditions," she replied. +"I shall not change them. Unlike most +women, I have been gifted with the faculty of +being able to make up my mind. The time for +compromise has passed."</p> + +<p>"You don't care for me," he persisted. +"You couldn't care for any man. You're not +capable of it. It's not in you."</p> + +<p>"Whether or not I care for you does not enter +into the matter at all," she rejoined calmly. +"My capability for affection has no bearing +on the present question."</p> + +<p>"You were relying on marrying me to pay +your debts," he declared. "You could not have +built a more forlorn hope. I should not pay +your debts if I did marry you. I will give you +five thousand pounds for your lie this morning."</p> + +<p>She was very angry. The insult dashed all +the color from her face, leaving it white and +set in lines that made her look almost old. +Her eyes glittered menacingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +"You dare," she said slowly, "to offer <i>me</i> +five thousand pounds?"</p> + +<p>"And consider yourself damned lucky!" +he retorted.</p> + +<p>He took out his case, and lit a cigarette +with a show of indifference.</p> + +<p>"I am not bound to offer you anything," he +said carelessly. "That small point seems to +have escaped you. You have no claim on me. +I consider my suggestion an exceedingly generous +one. You can take it or leave it. It's +all you'll get."</p> + +<p>She rose.</p> + +<p>"You insult me again," she said, in measured +tones. "You are not wise."</p> + +<p>He laughed easily.</p> + +<p>"My dear Phyllis," he said, "you are adorable +in a rage—but I am afraid I must steel +myself against your gentle exactions. Let me +convince you that I am really treating you in +a highly preferential manner. During my +career three women have attempted to blackmail +me. They were all ugly—so they got +nothing. You are charming—so you get five +thousand pounds. That is the most I have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +ever paid for my smaller indiscretions. And +I take the liberty of thinking it more than sufficient +compensation for the few erroneous impressions +I may have allowed you to contract."</p> + +<p>"You are making the mistake," she said, +in the same controlled tones, "of imagining +that you are buying back your promises to me, +which I can quite understand that you value +lightly. But I have told you that those promises +are not for sale. You have wandered +from the real issue. You are not buying the +promises of your heart—you are buying the +secrets of your house. Are they not on a different +scale of values?"</p> + +<p>"You know nothing of my house," he returned. +"You do not know whether there are +secrets in it or not."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she confessed candidly. +"Possibly there are not. But I am prepared +to take a sporting chance that there are. And +if I am wrong—so much the better for you."</p> + +<p>He was silent, looking at her thoughtfully, +as if carefully weighing his course of action.</p> + +<p>"You were under the suspicion of Scotland +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +Yard," she reminded him, "until I told my +lie. You will be under it again if I admit my +lie. Inspector Fay would certainly not rest +until he had thoroughly investigated your reasons +for giving a false account of yourself. +He is by no means a fool—and I very much +doubt that he is to be bought, anyway so reasonably +as I am."</p> + +<p>Copplestone's face wore a strange expression. +There was now no animosity in it, but +rather a mild resignation, in strange contrast +to his previous anger.</p> + +<p>"So," he said, after a pause, "you would +put them on to me again...?"</p> + +<p>"I need not have taken them off you," she +replied.</p> + +<p>"I have offered you five thousand pounds +for that," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"I have refused them."</p> + +<p>"Think over it well," he advised her impressively.</p> + +<p>"I do not need to," she returned.</p> + +<p>For a moment they faced each other steadily.</p> + +<p>"You mean that—finally?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Finally," she answered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +He moved to a door at the further end of +the room, and opened it.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said quietly. "You have gone +too far to draw back. You shall see the secrets +of my house. Follow me."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Secret of the House</span></p> + + +<p>She followed him out of the black room +into a dark, narrow passage.</p> + +<p>Her calmness and self-possession +remained undisturbed. Without a +tremor she accepted this unexpected invitation +to the secrets of the Crooked House—quite +ignorant of, and indifferent to, the danger to +which she might be committing herself. That +there were hidden things in the house she had +for a long time been convinced, but of their +nature she had been unable to form even a conjecture, +in spite of many attempts to creep into +the mystery. Copplestone's sudden decision +to reveal them to her was a surprise, and an +unpleasant check to the development of her +schemes. Either he placed a much lower +value on his secrets than she had expected, or +her participation in them was by no means to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +be dreaded to the extent that she had relied +upon. In any case her position was considerably +weakened, and the success of her plans +was no longer the assured thing she had believed +it to be.</p> + +<p>In silence they ascended a flight of stairs, +and reached a door which appeared to be the +entrance into a separate part of the building. +It was a massive oak door, fitted with double +locks of remarkable strength for a private +house. Copplestone held it open, motioning +her to pass before him, and relocked it on the +other side. She was still without any nervousness, +but her curiosity increased with every +step. He led the way on, and she followed +him unhesitatingly. They traversed several +corridors, and turned many corners. Her +sense of direction told her that they had +entered an extreme wing of the house, hidden +away among the thickest trees of the garden, +and to all appearances unused. The place +was damp, dusty, and silent, with the intense +silence of emptiness. Some of the doors were +open, showing unfurnished, neglected rooms. +The papers were peeling off the walls; the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +fittings were covered with the rust and dirt +of years; the soiled blinds half covered the +closed, uncleaned windows. The atmosphere +was close and unhealthy.</p> + +<p>"What a parable of waste!" she said.</p> + +<p>He did not reply. They came to a square +landing, and another heavy door faced them. +Copplestone stopped, and for a moment stood +looking at her intently. She did not flinch. +He shrugged his shoulders, and took a key +from his pocket. It was a peculiar key, and +was attached to a strong chain. He fitted it +into the lock, and opened the door. Then he +turned to her again, and she saw a change +coming over his face.</p> + +<p>"Go in," he said curtly.</p> + +<p>She hesitated, for the first time. He +withdrew the key, and returned it to his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid," he said.</p> + +<p>"I will follow you," she returned, watching +him carefully.</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders again, and went +into the room. She entered after him.</p> + +<p>It was a long, low room. There was a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +window at the far end, but it was so dirty, and +the curtains in front of it were so thick and +discolored, that the place was in semi-darkness, +and the air overwhelmingly heavy and unwholesome. +There was a little rough furniture, +a strip of worn carpet on the floor, and +some untasted food on the table—but it was not +any of those dismal objects that attached the +woman's gaze. It was rather a white, pasty +face that seemed to gleam at her from the +darkest corner of the room—the drawn pallid +face, and dull lifeless eyes, of a white-haired +man, who was sitting in a huddled, contorted +attitude on a bare wooden chair.</p> + +<p>She shrank back with a startled exclamation, +and turned to Copplestone. His face was +convulsed with fury, his eyes aflame with +hatred.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said harshly.</p> + +<p>She drew away from him fearfully.</p> + +<p>"What wickedness is this?" she shuddered.</p> + +<p>"None of mine," he answered.</p> + +<p>The vacant eyes rested on them with a fixed +stare, completely devoid of intelligence. The +huddled figure evinced no sign of life. It appeared +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +to be unconscious of their presence. +Copplestone advanced a few paces; but the +woman hung back, horrified.</p> + +<p>"Is that ... a living thing?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He laughed—an unnatural, metallic laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said—"it's living ... with as +much life as its sins have left it, and its rotten +body can hold."</p> + +<p>He turned back to her.</p> + +<p>"Come nearer," he said. "There is nothing +to be afraid of."</p> + +<p>But the glassy stare of the motionless figure +had unnerved her. She was white, and shaking.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she muttered, shrinking further +back.</p> + +<p>He seized her arm.</p> + +<p>"I warned you," he cried roughly, "but you +wouldn't listen. You were brave enough then—when +you thought I daren't stand up to you. +You shall learn your lesson—you who talked +so glibly of my secrets. Come closer."</p> + +<p>He dragged her with him towards the +corner.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +"Look!" he commanded. "Look at that +thing in front of you—that thing crouching +there like an ape. It was once a man. It was +once an active, intelligent, healthy human being—a +strong handsome member of a strong +handsome family. Everything was in its +favor. There were no obstacles in its path. +It had many more natural gifts than the average +man is endowed with. It might have +ruled an empire. It might have loaded its +name with honor, and left it to its children. It +had the capability, the power, and the opportunity +to leave the world a better place than it +found it. Look at it now."</p> + +<p>She stood silent, her head turned away. He +went on, with increasing rage.</p> + +<p>"Look at that man now! He has brought +himself to a state of gibbering insanity by a +life of indulgence in every form of vice and +depravity known to humanity. He knowingly +and deliberately drained his mental and +physical resources by every insult to nature +that depraved men and women—the lowest +creatures of the earth—have devised for the +satisfaction of their diseased senses. He was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +a drunkard and drug-fiend before he was +twenty. Every effort was made to check and +reclaim him, but he defied them all. He was +fully warned. He knew what the consequences +would be. He knew that nature cannot +be violated continuously without exacting +her penalty, sooner or later. But he plunged +on. Step by step he brought himself to this. +His brain and his body are decaying from the +unnameable excesses he has committed with +both. He is literally rotting in front of us at +this moment."</p> + +<p>She put her hands up to her face.</p> + +<p>"Can he hear you?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he replied savagely. "Perhaps +he can. I hope he can. I hope he can +hear every word. It wouldn't be the first time +he had heard the story of his shame. And it +won't be the last. Curse him!"</p> + +<p>She tried to draw him back.</p> + +<p>"Come away," she cried. "How can you +stand in front of the poor creature, and talk +like that before his face?"</p> + +<p>His iron grip closed on her wrist, and held +her helpless.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +"Why not?" he demanded, with dreadful +bitterness. "Why should he be spared because +he is suffering a fraction of the just and +natural consequences of his own deliberate +acts? What is there to pity in that? It is a +merciful retribution. If you have any sympathy +to show—show it to me."</p> + +<p>"To you?" she echoed.</p> + +<p>"To me," he repeated.</p> + +<p>She screamed, and tried to wrench herself +from his grasp. The horrible head had begun +to move slowly from side to side. A faint, +ghastly smile appeared round the twisted +lips.</p> + +<p>"Let me go," she cried. "It's too dreadful."</p> + +<p>He dragged her round again.</p> + +<p>"You forced yourself into my secrets," he +said hardly. "It is too late to shrink back +now. You shall know them to the full—and +then you may go."</p> + +<p>He paused, still holding her. In her horror, +and under the sickly, stifling atmosphere of the +room, she was almost fainting. But he paid +no heed to her condition. His eyes were fixed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +malignantly on the grinning object of his +hatred.</p> + +<p>"That man," he said slowly, "was free from +any hereditary weakness. His viciousness +was not inherent. He came of a good, clean +stock. When he was thirty—although the inevitable +results of his violations had already +seized upon him—he committed the crime of +marrying. It was the foulest sin of his life. +He knew what the result would be—what it +was bound by every natural law to be. He +knew that the sins of the fathers must be visited +on the children"—he clenched his hands, +and she winced as her wrist was crushed in +his grip—"and knowing that, he dared to +marry."</p> + +<p>His voice rose. His face began to work +with passion.</p> + +<p>"He married a good woman—who bore all +the cruelties he heaped upon her because she +loved him. Her money had been his only consideration—and +when he had got all that he treated her like dirt. But there are +limits even to what a woman can bear. He broke her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +heart, and she died ... mad. If only she +had died a little sooner...."</p> + +<p>She steadied herself with an effort.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" she asked. "Why is he here, +in your house?"</p> + +<p>A flood of fury shook him.</p> + +<p>"His name is Oscar Winslowe," he said +fiercely. "He is my father."</p> + +<p>She uttered a sharp cry, and wrenched her +hand away from him.</p> + +<p>"Your father? That creature ... your +father...."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he cried wildly—"he is my father. +I am George Copplestone Winslowe. Do you +wonder that I hate him? I am the victim of +his vices—the heir to his sins. He has left +me the legacy of outraged nature. I am mad."</p> + +<p>She recoiled from him, panting. He was +beside himself. His face was distorted; madness +glared in his eyes. Then, suddenly, the +paroxysm left him. He turned to her weakly, +with the appeal of his utter despair.</p> + +<p>"Pity me," he said. "Oh, if you are capable +of pitying anything in this dreadful world, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +pity me! My awful inheritance is closing in +on me. Every day one more grain of reason +leaves me. Like him, I might have been a +leader of men. Like him, I have power and +capability. I have a brain that could have +raised me to the greatest heights. I have a +body that can bear any strain. But I am +mad."</p> + +<p>His agony was pitiful. He sobbed, wringing +his hands.</p> + +<p>"I can feel the hideous thing growing in +me, hour by hour—a little more—a little more. +I can feel its clutch tightening on me. And +I can't resist. I can't escape. The little mental +balance I have is being dragged away from +me. In a few years—if I let myself live to +it—I shall be a babbling maniac. Nothing +can save me. I knew it when I was a boy—before +that thing there completely lost its reason. +I knew I was born a madman for my father's +sins. It crept on me gradually—one sign after +another—one horrible secret impulse after another. +The slow, sure growth of madness." +He buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God! +Oh, God!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +In the silence that followed the figure on +the chair straightened itself with a jerk, and +gibbered at him, twitching spasmodically. +The woman turned away, shaking.</p> + +<p>"I live in hell," he moaned—"in all the torment +of the uttermost hell. I fly from one +thing to another for respite, for relief—but +there is no relief. I can only make madness of +them all. Everything twists and turns in my +hands. I can keep nothing straight." Then +another gust of passion seized him. He +shouted, beating his hands together. "What +right," he cried furiously, "have men and +women to marry and bequeath disease and madness +to their children? What right have they +to propagate the rottenness of their minds and +bodies? It's worse than murder. It's the +cruelest, the most wicked, of all crimes. What +are the feelings of a child to such parents? +Is it not to hate them—as I hate that foul thing +there?—to curse them, as I curse him, with +every breath?" His arms dropped limply to +his sides. "What is the use of hating?" he +said dully. "It can't cure me. It can't cure +me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +He looked at her fixedly.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked bitterly. "You know the +secrets of my house. Are you satisfied?"</p> + +<p>She laid a hand on his arm, and turned him +gently towards the door. There were tears +in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Come away," she said weakly. "Let us +speak somewhere else."</p> + +<p>He followed her. They went out, without +another look at the figure behind them, and +returned in silence to the black room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Truer Colors</span></p> + + +<p>A great change had come over her. +All the hardness had disappeared +from her face. It was transformed +by a wonderful new pity—a latent +compassion, stirred for the first time by this +miserable man's utter tragedy. And so transformed +she was very lovely—with a loveliness +that all the arts of an accomplished society +woman had never bestowed upon her.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," she said gently. "I would +not have said what I did if I had even thought +... of that."</p> + +<p>He looked down at her, a world of agony in +his tortured eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well," he asked—"do you still want to +marry me ... now?"</p> + +<p>For an instant the old hardness flashed +back.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +"You would have married <i>her</i>," she returned.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said slowly. "I wonder +... if I should."</p> + +<p>His gaze wandered vacantly round the room.</p> + +<p>"She intoxicated me," he said. "Her +memory intoxicates me still. She set fire to +all my passions. She made me forget the barrier. +But I think I really hated her. Perhaps +... if she hadn't died in the garden +... I might have killed her...."</p> + +<p>The madness was leaving him, and the +weakness of reaction taking its place. He put +a hand on her shoulder, and leant heavily on +her. His face was mild and kind—the face +of the normal man.</p> + +<p>"Phyllis," he said softly, "I mocked you, and +treated you badly. But it wasn't really I. +Forgive a poor madman the sins of his madness."</p> + +<p>She made no attempt to check her tears. +He took her hand, as gently as a child.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry," he begged. "See—I am all +right now. Sit down, and let us talk."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +Still leaning on her, he moved to a couch, +and drew her down beside him.</p> + +<p>"First," he said, "I will tell you why I lied +to Inspector Fay. I did not go into the house +to fill my cigarette case. I was mad. It came +on me—as it often does—when I see sane people +about me—a rush of hatred and despair."</p> + +<p>He spoke dispassionately, without a trace +of the terrible disorder that had possessed him +a few minutes before. Only the gloom remained—the +shadow that never left him.</p> + +<p>"You can understand," he went on, "what +my life has been since this cloud first settled +on me. I tried to fight against it—but how +could I fight against a thing that I knew to be +there, creeping on me day after day—when +I knew that in the end I must give way? +Every hour seemed to bring some fresh proof +of the madness that was in me—some proof +that made resistance more and more futile and +hopeless. A thousand times I have been +tempted to kill myself—but always there was +the dim, desperate hope that some miraculous +twist of sanity might yet deliver me. I can't +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +convey to you a tenth—a hundredth—part of +the agony of that struggle. There were times +when I shrank into the farthest corner of my +darkest cellar, and prayed, as only a madman +could pray, to be spared from the unjust curse. +There were times when I stood out on the roof +of my house, and defied the God I had prayed +to...."</p> + +<p>He stared straight out in front of him, a +figure of unutterable pathos—a helpless accuser +of Eternal Laws.</p> + +<p>"If I were suffering for a fault of my own, +I would bear my punishment uncomplaining. +But I am innocent. I have done nothing to +deserve this torture. And there is always the +thought of what I might have been—of what +I know I could have been. That is the cruelest +torment of all. I have to see sane men +and women wasting every minute of their lives—without +the slightest appreciation of the +value, or the responsibilities, of reason—who +might as well be mad, for all the use they are +to their fellow-creatures. And I...." He +broke off. "That is enough about myself," he +said. "I want to talk about you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +He looked at her in surprise, as if noticing +the alteration in her for the first time.</p> + +<p>"How changed you are," he said. "You +have never looked like that before. You have +always been so hard. Why have you never +looked like that before?"</p> + +<p>She was silent. She bent her head, as if +ashamed of betraying herself.</p> + +<p>"Was all that hardness ... only a cloak +... to hide yourself?"</p> + +<p>He seized her hand tightly.</p> + +<p>"You fool! You fool!" he cried—"to make +yourself hard and unfeeling and unnatural—to +try to stamp all the heart out of your life—to +blaspheme your sex. Don't you know that +a hard woman is the most terrible thing in the +world? Don't you know that while men dare +to think that they have the image of God, it is +women who can really have the heart of God? +And to think that all the time you have disguised +yourself, you have been capable of looking +like that."</p> + +<p>"I have been up against the world," she +said. "I have never had enough money to be +soft-hearted. No woman with feeling can get +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +five hundred per cent. out of her income."</p> + +<p>"What does it matter," he returned, "if she +can get five hundred per cent. out of life?"</p> + +<p>He still held her hand, his eyes fixed longingly +on her face.</p> + +<p>"If only I were not mad," he said, with all +his sadness—"now I know that you are really +a woman...."</p> + +<p>"Let me go," she said brokenly, withdrawing +her hand from his.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," he returned, detaining her. +"There is something more I want to do." He +paused. "My dear," he said softly, "an hour +ago I would not have married you even if I had +been sane. Now I want to marry you although +I am mad. But, since that cannot be, there is +something else." He released her, and stood +up. "I want you always to look like that," he +said. "I want you to forget that you have ever +tried to disguise yourself. I want to make it +possible for you to go through the rest of your +life with your heart in its proper place."</p> + +<p>He took his check book from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she said quickly—"not that."</p> + +<p>"Please," he insisted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +"I would have taken it before," she said, +forcing back her tears. "But not now."</p> + +<p>"You must," he declared. "My money is +no use to me. I can't do anything worth doing +with it. With all my fantastic extravagancies, +I only spend a small part of my income. +The rest has been accumulating for +years. I shall never use it, and when I die +it will pass to some one I have never seen. It +is doing no good—and I want it to do some +good. What better thing could I do with it +than give it ... to the woman I would marry +if I could?"</p> + +<p>She sprang up.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake," she cried, "don't say that! +I can't bear it!"</p> + +<p>He laid a hand again on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Do you care?" he asked slowly. "I don't +think you cared before. I thought you were +only sorry for me now. Do you really care?"</p> + +<p>"I do care!" she cried recklessly. "I care—and +care—and care. My God, how I +care!"</p> + +<p>He turned his face upwards, and over it +passed a dreadful, mocking smile.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +"O God of Mercy!" he muttered—"another +torment!"</p> + +<p>He drew away from her.</p> + +<p>"I shall do this for you," he said firmly. +"I intend to do this. And then we must not +see each other again. I hope that when you +marry, as you must, you will marry a good, +clean man—a man who can stand out among +his fellow-creatures, and need not shrink away +from them, as I must. I want you to be very +happy and bring happy children to the world...." +His voice shook. "And forget there +are unfortunate people in it ... who may +only gaze hungrily over the gulf that they can +never cross."</p> + +<p>He left her sobbing, and went to his writing +table.</p> + +<p>"No one will know," he said. "I will draw +it to myself. The bank is quite close here. I +will walk there and cash it at once."</p> + +<p>He wrote the check, and rose.</p> + +<p>"Wait for me here," he said. "I shall only +be a few minutes." And he went out with the +face of a stricken man.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Providing for the Worst</span></p> + + +<p>Though Inspector Fay had disclosed +no more than was necessary for the +purpose of the initial charge, the arrest +of James Layton was popularly +considered to have solved the mystery of the +murder of Christine Manderson.</p> + +<p>No one realized more fully than Layton himself +the overwhelming strength of the case +against him. He was as good as condemned +already. Beyond his own assertion of innocence, +he was utterly defenseless against a +sequence of evidence that might well have shattered +the strongest reply. And he was without +any reply at all, except his own denial. He +could only admit the truth of the damning +train of circumstances, in face of which his +mere word was hopelessly—and, he was compelled +to acknowledge, justly—inadequate. +The secret of his identity—most crushing fact +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +of all—was lost. He was the Michael Cranbourne +whom Christine Manderson, then Thea +Colville, had drawn on to ruin and disgrace. +He had threatened her, in the presence of +witness, with just such an end as she had met +with. He had been seen lurking in the garden +at the time of the crime. He had been beside +himself. And to all that he had no more convincing +answer than the plea of not guilty. +He placed himself, quite dispassionately, in +the position of his own judge and jury. There +could be only one result.</p> + +<p>The strange message of hope, brought to him +by Jenny West, from a mysterious foreigner +who had declared knowledge of his innocence +and of half the truth, aroused his curiosity, if +no more. That one person, at all events, had +discovered, and was apparently pursuing, an +alternative to his own guilt was interesting, +if a slender encouragement to build on. He +was not disposed to cling to flimsy hopes. He +accepted his position with perfect calmness. +Since the confession of his identity to Inspector +Fay a load seemed to have been lifted from +his mind, and with it had passed the revival +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +of mad passion which the sight of Christine +Manderson's fatal beauty had aroused. He +found himself able to dwell on her memory—even +to contemplate her death—with a cold detachment +which surprised himself. He no +longer shrank from conjuring up her image—but +now it was a dead image from a dead +world. And—not without surprise also, and +perhaps a certain satisfaction—he found himself +looking forward to a visit from Jenny +West.</p> + +<p>She came to him at the appointed time. She +was very white. The deep shadows of sleepless +grief and anxiety were round her eyes—but +in them shone the fire of a dogged, dauntless +courage. Her great untamed soul was +aflame with revolt against the implacable circumstances +that had placed the man whose +name a thousand had blessed on the highroad +to the gallows. She threw herself against the +wall of facts with all the force of her primitive +love. She was one of those whose trust rises +to its greatest heights when opposed to reason.</p> + +<p>He greeted her kindly. He was cheerful +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +and composed. He showed that he was glad +to see her.</p> + +<p>"We shall save you, Jim!" she declared, +straining back the tears that sprang to her +eyes at his kindness. "I know we shall! I +know it!"</p> + +<p>"God will save His workman," he returned +quietly—"if it is His will."</p> + +<p>He looked at her closely. And something +very like affection came into his face.</p> + +<p>"You are pale," he said. "You are over +strained. You haven't slept."</p> + +<p>She bent her head, to hide her brimming +eyes.</p> + +<p>"My child...." he said gently.</p> + +<p>"What does it matter," she sobbed, "if I +haven't slept? How can I sleep—when you +are ... here?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, my dear," he said—"we must face +this thing squarely. It's no use trying to shut +our eyes to the truth, however unpleasant it +may be. As the case stands at present, no +jury in the world could acquit me. I have +no reply to the charge, except to declare that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +I did not kill Christine Manderson—and that +will not help me. The evidence is more than +enough to satisfy any impartial, clear-thinking +man or woman. It would satisfy me. +That I know myself to be innocent will not assist +me to establish my innocence. Thousands +of things may happen in the meantime—but I +must prepare to suffer the penalty for a crime +that I did not commit."</p> + +<p>"You shall not!" she cried passionately. +"If there is justice in heaven or earth, you +shall not!"</p> + +<p>"I do not cling to life," he returned. "It +has very little to give me, or to take away. +Men may find me guilty—but I shall stand +before God innocent. It will not be the first +time I have stood before God."</p> + +<p>A spark of his old fanaticism flashed into +his eyes for a moment, then faded.</p> + +<p>"I shall be ready," he said steadily, "for +whatever He sends."</p> + +<p>"Men shall not find you guilty," she declared. +"There are three people working for +you. The truth will be discovered."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +"Your mysterious Frenchman?" he smiled. +"What has he done?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she confessed. "He tells +me nothing—except to keep on promising that +you will be saved. And that is enough for +me."</p> + +<p>A frown darkened Layton's face.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not put yourself so completely +into the hands of a stranger," he said +doubtfully. "Who and what, is this man? +And how does he come to be mixed up in this +affair?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing whatever about him," she +replied. "But there is something that makes +me trust him. I believe he will keep his +promise."</p> + +<p>"I don't like it," he insisted.</p> + +<p>"If I didn't help him," she said, "I could +do nothing. And I should go mad."</p> + +<p>"What has he given you to do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I promised not to tell any one," she hesitated.</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You had better tell me. You have no one +else to protect you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +"It is something I can't understand," she +said slowly. "This morning I had to write +out the names and addresses of all the Art and +Picture Dealers from the <i>Directory</i>, and this +afternoon I am to go round in a car to as many +of them as I can, with a letter from the French +Embassy, to ask if any articles have ever been +supplied to, or orders taken from, a Miss +Masters, of 35, De Vere Terrace, Streatham, +and if so, what."</p> + +<p>Layton stared at her in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What possible connection can that have +with the case?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said again. "I've tried +to think."</p> + +<p>"The French Embassy," he mused. "That +is strange...."</p> + +<p>He checked himself, and looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"You time is nearly up," he said. "Listen +to me carefully. There is one very important +thing that I want you to understand. Whatever +may develop in the meantime, I intend +to prepare for the worst."</p> + +<p>He kept her silent with a firm gesture.</p> + +<p>"My work must go on. No matter what +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +happens to me, my work must go on. And +it must be carried on as I have begun it, by +some one who has worked with me, and understands +my objects—by some one who is human, +and unlimited by sect or creed. I don't want +to make people religious—it would spoil most +of them. I want to make them healthy and +happy. I would rather they were clean pagans +than unclean Christians. No soul is saved or +lost because it happens to take a certain view +of the Mysteries of God. It is the bodies I +care for—the bodies I want to build. Humanity +should be a song of thanksgiving, not +a prayer for alleviation."</p> + +<p>The fires kindled again. His face was lit +up.</p> + +<p>"You must continue my work. If I should +have to leave it ... you will find everything +yours. There is over a million. Use it as +I have taught you. Use it to help children +to grow into men and women, and men and +women to grow into old men and women. Use +it to help human beings against the cruelties +they inflict on each other—and animals against +the cruelties inflicted on them. Promise me +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +that if the worst happens, you will go on where +I leave off."</p> + +<p>Tears blinded her. She could not speak.</p> + +<p>"Promise," he insisted.</p> + +<p>"I will," she sobbed. "I will go on—as long +as I can live after you."</p> + +<p>He stood still, looking at her fixedly. There +was the dawn of an awakening on his face.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he whispered, "I was wrong. +I do cling to life. I want to live. O God, +save me!"</p> + +<p>And the girl uttered a great sigh of thankfulness, +and fell fainting against the wire partition +that stood between them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Disappearance of Tranter</span></p> + + +<p>At one o'clock on the following day, +Monsieur Dupont sat in his room +waiting for Tranter. At half-past +one he had become impatient. At +two he seized the telephone directory, and, a +minute later, the instrument. At two-thirty +he obtained his number.</p> + +<p>The answer to his first question stiffened +him into an attitude of rigid tensity.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tranter is not in, sir," a voice told +him. "He has disappeared."</p> + +<p>"Disappeared?" Monsieur Dupont echoed +sharply.</p> + +<p>"We do not know what has happened to +him. He went out last night at nine o'clock, +and has not returned."</p> + +<p>"Not returned...." the listener muttered.</p> + +<p>"We are getting anxious," the voice went +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +on. "He left orders for his supper, and there +is no doubt that he intended to return. We +have telephoned to the hospitals and the police +stations, but nothing has been heard of him. +Do you happen to know where he was going?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause. Monsieur +Dupont's hands were clenched so tightly round +the instrument that the veins stood out on +them like cords.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said slowly, "I know where he +was going."</p> + +<p>He rose quickly.</p> + +<p>"I will find him," he promised and rang +off.</p> + +<p>He replaced the instrument, and stood still. +For the first time since his arrival in London +fear found a place in the expression of his +face.</p> + +<p>"<i>Dieu</i>," he whispered—"that Crooked +House...."</p> + +<p>He seized his hat and stick, and hurried out +to his car.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Remarkable changes were in progress when +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +he arrived at the Crooked House. A small +army of workmen swarmed over the whole +place in a condition of feverish energy. There +were stacks of tools, dozens of machines, and +cartloads of material. At first sight it might +have appeared as if nothing less than the effects +of an earthquake could have been in process +of repair—but, as Monsieur Dupont stood +staring about him in amazement, it became apparent +that the men were engaged in eliminating +the crookedness of the garden, and must +have been so engaged from a very early hour. +Many of the twisting paths had been shorn of +their high maze-like walls of hedge, and the +paths themselves were in varying stages of conversion +or disappearance. Under rapid and +ruthless hands straightness was already appearing +out of the confusion. Monsieur Dupont +looked positively frightened.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>," he exclaimed aloud, "they are +making it a human garden!"</p> + +<p>The house itself presented a no less startling +aspect. It was no longer gloomy, deserted, +and silent. It was teeming with life. Every +window was open, and from within came +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +sounds of rapacious cleaning. A hundred +painters had commenced a vigorous assault +upon the exterior, and representatives of every +branch of house decoration were attacking the +interior. It was a scene of resurrection.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont almost ran to the open +front door. Copplestone's manservant was at +work in the hall, and came forward with a +sphinx-like expression.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Copplestone?" said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Copplestone is away, sir."</p> + +<p>"Away...?"</p> + +<p>"He left in the car early this morning, sir, +without saying where he was going or when he +would be back."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont was plainly staggered.</p> + +<p>"Was he alone?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, sir."</p> + +<p>"You do not know?"</p> + +<p>"I did not see him leave, sir. He gave me +my instructions in the library, and ordered me +to remain there until he had gone."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont took a threatening step +towards him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +"Where is Mr. Tranter?" he demanded, +with sudden fierceness.</p> + +<p>The man met his challenging gaze steadily.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tranter, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tranter came here last night—between +ten and eleven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"I think you must be mistaken, sir. If he +had come here, I should have seen him."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont clenched his fists.</p> + +<p>"I am not mistaken! I say that he came +here last night!"</p> + +<p>"I did not see him, sir."</p> + +<p>"Since then he has disappeared. He has +not returned to his house, and nothing has been +heard of him. Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of Mr. Tranter, sir."</p> + +<p>"That is not true!" Monsieur Dupont almost +shouted.</p> + +<p>"Sir!"</p> + +<p>"I say that is not true!"</p> + +<p>The man drew himself up.</p> + +<p>"It certainly is true, sir."</p> + +<p>"It is not! Will you tell the truth to me—or +to the police?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +"I have nothing to tell," the man insisted +doggedly.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont appeared to be beside himself.</p> + +<p>"<i>Dieu!</i>" he cried, "if any harm has come +to Mr. Tranter, you shall pay for it—all of +you!"</p> + +<p>The man shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I can only repeat, sir, that I have not seen +Mr. Tranter, and that, so far as I know, he has +not been to this house. He is certainly not +here now. You are welcome to search every +room for him if you like. Mr. Copplestone +left word that the house was to be open to any +one who might wish to go over it."</p> + +<p>"He said that?" Monsieur Dupont exclaimed, +his anger giving place to astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont turned away without another +word, and walked slowly to the gates. +Reaching them, he stopped, and looked back.</p> + +<p>"In the name of heaven," he muttered, +"what happened in that house last night?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +He went back to his car. Amazement and +anxiety were blended on his face. It was +plain that his calculations had received an unexpected +check, the meaning of which he could +not at present grasp. The sudden transformation +of the house and garden was a development +that had not entered into his scheme of +procedure. It presented him with an entirely +new and unlooked-for problem. After a moment's +indecision, he took out his pocket-book, +referred to an address, and gave it to his chauffeur.</p> + +<p>During the return journey he sat with his +face between his hands, buried in thought. +When the car stopped before a house in Grosvenor +Gardens, he lifted his head slowly and +heavily, as if rousing himself from a stupor.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe, if you please," he said +to the footman who answered his summons.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe is not at home, sir."</p> + +<p>"It is most important," said Monsieur Dupont. +"I wished to speak to her of a matter +connected with Mr. George Copplestone."</p> + +<p>"She went away early this morning, sir."</p> + +<p>"Away?" Monsieur Dupont repeated.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +"With Mr. Copplestone."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont started back.</p> + +<p>"With Mr. Copplestone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Just before eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"With Mr. Copplestone...."</p> + +<p>"He came in his car, sir, and insisted on Mrs. +Astley-Rolfe getting up to see him. She went +away with him ten minutes afterwards, without +telling us where she was going or when +to expect her back."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont's face had become blanker +and blanker. He stared at the man speechlessly +then turned from the door, and gazed +in a helpless fashion up and down the street.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mille diables!</i>" he murmured, "what does +it mean...."</p> + +<p>He got into his car again. He looked about +him like a man dazed by a heavy blow. Returning +to the Savoy, he went up to his room.</p> + +<p>There was a telegram on the table. He +opened it, and read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"The name was George Copplestone Winslowe,</p> +<p class="authorsc">Lessing."</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +Monsieur Dupont uttered an extraordinary +sound. In a flash the gloom and uncertainty +that had held him gave place to a seething excitement. +Crushing the telegram into his +pocket, he rushed from the room. Two minutes +later he was on his way to Scotland Yard.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">In Pursuit</span></p> + + +<p>Inspector Fay was occupied with the +arrangement of the evidence to be presented +at the inquest on the body of +Christine Manderson. He disliked interruptions +when at work, but the appearance +of Monsieur Dupont banished his annoyance, +and called forth a smile of complacent triumph.</p> + +<p>"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "you +know me well enough to be sure that I would +not mislead you?"</p> + +<p>There was that in the look of him that caused +the smile to fade from the inspector's face.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he replied, laying down his +papers.</p> + +<p>"There is not a moment to lose. You must +come with me."</p> + +<p>"Come with you?"</p> + +<p>"Now—immediately."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +"But where?"</p> + +<p>"Wherever it may be necessary to go. I +do not yet know myself. I only know that we +must go."</p> + +<p>"Impossible," the inspector declared. "I +must be ready for the inquest."</p> + +<p>"If you do not come with me," Monsieur +Dupont retorted, "you will not be ready for +the inquest." He allowed his excitement to +overflow. "Why do you stand there?" he +cried. "I tell you, there is not a moment to +lose. Cannot you see that I am serious? In +all the years that you have known me I have +never been more serious. Come!"</p> + +<p>"What for?" demanded the inspector +sharply.</p> + +<p>"To discover the truth of the death of Christine +Manderson."</p> + +<p>"The truth is discovered," returned the inspector, +looking down at his papers.</p> + +<p>"The truth is <i>not</i> discovered," said Monsieur +Dupont.</p> + +<p>"It is a perfectly clear case," the inspector +retorted. "There cannot be the smallest doubt +that Layton killed her."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +"Layton did not kill her. At the beginning +I warned you to ignore the obvious. But you +did not. Layton is no more guilty of the crime +than you are."</p> + +<p>"I am satisfied," the inspector said shortly.</p> + +<p>"You must please yourself," said Monsieur +Dupont. "I cannot wait. There are two +lives to save—his and another. I came here +to keep my word to you. I promised that if +I succeeded in solving the mystery, I would +hand the rest to you. I do not want credit +from this affair. There is another meaning +in it for me. I am ready to hand the rest to +you, if you will come and take it. If you will +not come—I must go on to the end myself. +The choice is to you."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay looked at him steadily for a +moment. Then he turned back to his desk, +and locked up his papers.</p> + +<p>"I will come," he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Ethics of Killing</span></p> + + +<p>They swung out from Scotland Yard +into Whitehall.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" the inspector +asked.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont leant forward, controlling +his excitement with an effort.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>," he said, "I wish I knew!"</p> + +<p>He took the telegram from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"It is an hour only that I have returned from +Richmond. I found the house of George +Copplestone in course of transformation. I +found all the windows open. I found men and +women cleaning—painting—making new. I +found a hundred men ... making the crooked +garden straight."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the inspector—"why not?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont brought his hands together +impatiently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +"Why not? There are a thousand reasons +why not. But the reason why...."</p> + +<p>"Is it an extraordinary thing for a man to +open his windows, paint his house, and +straighten his garden?"</p> + +<p>"It is!" exclaimed Monsieur Dupont. "It is +more than an extraordinary thing—it is a +gigantic, a brain-splitting thing—if he has kept +his windows closed, his house unpainted, and +his garden crooked for twenty years. The +house of a man is the reflection of his soul. +It was the reflection of George Copplestone's +soul yesterday. But ... something happened +in it last night. And to-day...."</p> + +<p>He broke off, and began to smooth out the +telegram on his knee.</p> + +<p>"The moment I entered that house," he continued, +"I knew it was a wicked house. And +when that dreadful thing happened, I felt positively +that the wickedness of the house had +some direct connection with the crime in the +garden. I felt that it would be impossible to +solve one without solving the other. I knew, +also, that you would certainly be satisfied with +the evidence against James Layton, and would +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +consider no other possibility. That evidence, I +admit, was unanswerable—but I, with some +previous knowledge to help me, knew that Layton +was innocent. The difficulty in front of +me was to prove the guilt of the real criminal +in time. My friend Tranter, and that remarkable +young protégée of Layton, Jenny West, +agreed to help me. Together we began to +draw the nets, and the criminal was aware of +our movements. In the country yesterday I +discovered the identity of the most important +witness in the case—but when I went to find +her in the evening, she had been snatched away. +I instructed Tranter to discover and bring to +me the secret of the Crooked House, whatever +it might be. He set out to do so at nine o'clock +last night. And he has disappeared."</p> + +<p>"Disappeared?" the inspector exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Without a trace. I, only, knew where he +was going. And not only has he disappeared—but +Copplestone and Mrs. Astley-Rolfe have +disappeared with him."</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay began to show more interest.</p> + +<p>"They will be wanted for the inquest," he +said sharply.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +"If we do not find them in time for the +inquest," Monsieur Dupont returned, "there +will be two inquests to hold."</p> + +<p>"Two inquests?" the inspector echoed.</p> + +<p>"I could not understand it," continued Monsieur +Dupont. "It was contrary to all my calculations. +I was bewildered—and you may +recollect that I am not often bewildered. But +when I returned to my hotel, I found this." +He held out the telegram. "It is the answer to +a certain inquiry I have made."</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" the inspector asked, +handing it back.</p> + +<p>"It means," said Monsieur Dupont slowly, +"that we shall be lucky if we find Tranter +alive."</p> + +<p>"Where can they have gone?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I can only guess—and +if I have not guessed rightly, we shall not see +him again."</p> + +<p>"Are you telling me," the inspector demanded, +"that Copplestone killed the woman +he had just become engaged to?"</p> + +<p>"I shall tell you who killed her within twelve +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +hours," Monsieur Dupont replied. "I will tell +you why she was killed now."</p> + +<p>He paused.</p> + +<p>"Why," he asked, "did the murderer, whoever +it was, kill her so horribly? Why was it +not enough to deprive her of life? Could one +have desired more? Why was she stamped +on, and torn, and crushed?"</p> + +<p>"It was obviously done in the madness of +jealousy and revenge," replied the inspector.</p> + +<p>"It was done in madness," said Monsieur +Dupont—"but it was not the madness of jealousy +or revenge. It was the madness of a +strange and terrible hatred. It was done—because +the killer hated her beauty and not +her."</p> + +<p>The inspector stared at him blankly.</p> + +<p>"Hated her beauty, and not her...?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty years ago," said Monsieur Dupont, +"there was in France a very beautiful woman. +She was named Colette d'Orsel. It was said +that she was the most beautiful woman in the +country. She was also very rich, very generous, +and very kind. She was always doing +good actions. She had not an enemy in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +world. There was no one who could have +wished her a moment's pain. She was only +twenty-five. With several of her friends she +went to stay at Nice. One night she was found +in the gardens of her hotel—almost torn to +pieces."</p> + +<p>"I remember the case," said the inspector. +"It was a ghastly affair."</p> + +<p>"There appeared no motive. She was wearing +some splendid jewels. They had been +crushed with her, but nothing was missing—not +a stone. She had just returned from the +tables, and had not troubled to deposit her +winnings of the evening with the cashier of the +hotel. Forty thousand francs were found on +the body. Not a note had been touched. The +greatest detectives of France were called in to +solve the mystery—but they solved nothing. +They made the mistake of trying to find a +motive. They looked for a person who could +have had a reason to kill her. But it was time +lost. They should have looked among the +people who had no reason to kill her. The +weeks became months, and still they discovered +nothing. That crime is a mystery to-day."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +The inspector's attention was rivetted. He +remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Ten years ago," Monsieur Dupont proceeded, +"there was in Boston a young girl +named Margaret McCall. She was wonderfully +beautiful. Her parents were poor people, +and she worked for her living. She was quiet +and reserved by nature. She made few +friends, and cared little for the society of men. +Naturally there were hundreds who regretted, +and attempted to overcome, that characteristic; +but she went her own way quietly and +firmly. One evening her body was found in +a lonely part of one of the public parks torn +and crushed in the most terrible manner. The +police were helpless. The thing that baffled +them completely was the absence of any +motive for the crime. They tried to find one—but +all that they found was what I have said, +that she had been a good, honest girl—that +she had had no enemies—that she had not +jilted a man, or wronged a woman—that she +had never flirted, or encouraged men to pay +attentions to her. Yet there she had been +found—broken and mutilated. The small sum +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +of money she carried had remained untouched. +The crime was never solved."</p> + +<p>His voice had sunk lower. He had dwelt +on each detail with impassive deliberation.</p> + +<p>"This week, Christine Manderson—without +doubt the most beautiful woman of the three—was +found in that crooked garden at Richmond, +if possible in a more horrible condition +than either of the others."</p> + +<p>"You mean," exploded the inspector, "that +the murderer of Colette d'Orsel at Nice twenty +years ago also killed Margaret McCall in +Boston ten years after?"</p> + +<p>"I do," replied the low voice.</p> + +<p>"And Christine Manderson here three days +ago?"</p> + +<p>"And Christine Manderson here three days +ago. But this time there was a difference. +An unfortunate chain of circumstances provided +clear evidence against an innocent man—James +Layton. I admit that as the case +stood you had no option but to arrest him. +But in doing so you committed the same mistake +that your French and American brothers +had committed before you. They had looked +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +for a motive, and could not find one. You +found a motive, and devoted yourself to the +man with the motive. You should have looked +for the Destroyer."</p> + +<p>There was something of awe in the silence +that followed, like the hush that succeeds the +passing of a storm.</p> + +<p>"My friend," said the inspector slowly, +"what utterly monstrous thing are you telling +me?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont turned to him a face of +massive innocence.</p> + +<p>"Is it monstrous?" he said mildly. "If a +man is born with a longing to kill elephants, +he is a daring sportsman. If the longing is +to kill beetles, he is a scientist. But if the +inclination is to kill men—or women—he is a +criminal lunatic. Why? If the desire to kill +is not in itself monstrous, the desire to kill +a particular thing, whatever it may be, cannot +be monstrous. It can only be illegal. If it +is dreadful to kill a young child, it must be +dreadful to kill anything young. If it is +cowardly for a man to kill a woman, it is +cowardly for a man to kill the female sex in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +any shape or form. Yet, what scientist allows +the matter of sex to interfere with the impalement +of his beetle? Nor would he do so if +his hobby were to impale human beings. If +he searches for a beautiful beetle to kill, it +only requires a broadening of his particular +outlook for him to search for a beautiful +woman to kill. There may be a perfectly sane +and moral country in the world (although I +have never heard of it) in which it would be +criminal to kill the beetle, and scientific to kill +the woman. I confess that a well-mounted +collection of beautiful women would be very +much more interesting to me than the finest +collection of beautiful beetles. But if I have +the one, I am made a member of a Royal +Society—and if I have the other, I am executed. +And the only reason for that is that +the human beings make the laws, and not the +beetles."</p> + +<p>The car swung round a sharp corner, and +the inspector's amazement was interrupted by +the sudden necessity of keeping his position. +Monsieur Dupont continued slowly.</p> + +<p>"But the monstrousness of this case is not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +that three people have been killed—but that +three people have been more than killed. It +is monstrous because we have none of the +simple dignity of the primitive slayer, and all +the morbid excesses of the modern despoiler. +While it might be an entirely respectable thing +to kill a woman to preserve her beauty, it is an +entirely monstrous thing to kill her to destroy +it. That is the only reason why the collector +of beetles and butterflies is not the most cold-blooded +of murderers. That is the only——"</p> + +<p>"What in the name of all that's unholy," +gasped the inspector, "are you going to say +next?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dupont leant forward as the car +stopped, and opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Next," he replied gravely, "I am going to +inform you that we have arrived at Paddington, +and request you to get out."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Monsieur Dupont's Task</span></p> + + +<p>He bought the tickets, and conducted +the inspector to a train.</p> + +<p>"Where are we going?" demanded +the bewildered officer, as +Monsieur Dupont settled himself in a corner, +and produced his cigar case.</p> + +<p>"We are going," said Monsieur Dupont, "to +a delightful little village, hidden away in the +hills of the country—far from the sins of cities—where +they do not even know that Paris is the center of the world."</p> + +<p>Fortunately they had the carriage to themselves. +Monsieur Dupont smoked in silence +for some minutes.</p> + +<p>"I will explain to you," he began, at last, +"how I came to be concerned in this affair. +The reason was that, after my retirement, I +had the honor to marry a cousin of Colette +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +d'Orsel. The brother of my wife had been +one of the party at Nice at the time of the +crime, and, though there was not the least +evidence against him, the police had allowed +it to be known that they looked upon him as +the guilty person. You know how ready certain +people are to discuss and even to credit the +wildest theories—and you know also that after +sufficient discussion the wildest theories become +not only possibilities, but probabilities. The +cloud of suspicion hung over him, ruining his +health and his life, and casting a shadow over +the whole family. When I married my wife, +I determined that the shadow should be removed. +And for the past two years I have devoted +myself to that object.</p> + +<p>"You can imagine," he went on, after a +pause, "the difficulties that confronted me. +Eighteen years had elapsed since the crime had +been committed. Men, women, and even +buildings, had passed, and been replaced—records +had been lost—memories failed. But +money, perseverence, and imagination slowly +conquered. Step by step the years were overcome. +With the aid of a small army of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +assistants, I succeeded in isolating a certain +person. I placed that person beside the dead +body of Colette d'Orsel, and began my pursuit. +<i>Mon Dieu</i>, how I worked! After the hardest +year of my life, I at last established a link +between the death of Colette d'Orsel and the +death of Margaret McCall—and that link was +the personality I had isolated in the first place +at Nice. But it had changed itself. I followed +scent after scent—trail after trail. +When I came to London a few days ago, I +had sufficient information to allow me to commence +the final stage of the adventure. I had +solved the most difficult question of all—the +present identity of my quarry. The second +most difficult question remained to be solved—proofs +of guilt. How could I obtain them? +How could I prove that this person—living +here in all the security of time—was the person +who had torn those two women to pieces in +America and France ten and twenty years ago? +I had certain clues to follow up, but the results +could not possibly have been sufficient to prove +such an accusation. What was I to do? To +rely upon observation? To search for—and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +wait for—a proof in this person's daily intercourse +with the world? To place a beautiful +woman within reach, and watch for a betrayal? +That was actually the object in my mind when +I called on my friend Tranter, and requested +him to open to me the doors of London society. +Sooner or later, I should have found, or +brought about, the situation I was looking for. +It might have been years—doubtless it would +have been years—if he had not, by the most +remarkable chance, taken me direct to that +house at Richmond. Then came the death of +Christine Manderson. It was horrible—appalling! +And to think that I, who had detected +and tracked the Destroyer, had been +there in the same garden, within a few yards +of the third death, and yet was no nearer my +proofs! And to add to my difficulties, there +was the certainty that an innocent man would +suffer unjustly if I could not succeed in time."</p> + +<p>He paused, looking grimly out at the passing +scenery.</p> + +<p>"And if I had not sent Tranter to the +Crooked House yesterday, I do not know how +I could have succeeded in time."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +He turned abruptly from the window, put +his feet up on the seat, and closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am a little tired," he said. "If you will +excuse me, I will take a nap."</p> + +<p>He slept for an hour.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>They got out at a small country station. +The shadows of the hot twilight were merging +into darkness. A few minutes walking +brought them to an inn, at which Monsieur +Dupont demanded, and obtained, a conveyance.</p> + +<p>For half an hour they drove through the +heavily scented air of the country. Scarcely +a word was spoken until they reached another +village. There, Monsieur Dupont requested +the inspector to alight and they proceeded on +foot.</p> + +<p>The red rear-light of a motor-car appeared +at the turn of a corner. Monsieur Dupont +drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"<i>Le bon Dieu</i> be thanked!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>The car was stationary and empty. Monsieur +Dupont laid a hand on the radiator.</p> + +<p>"It is hot," he said. "They have only been +here a few minutes. Do not make a sound."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +He opened a gate. The long low shape of a +house was in front of them. They stood still, +listening. There was no sound, no light.</p> + +<p>"To the back," Monsieur Dupont whispered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">What They Heard</span></p> + + +<p>They crept round the house. At the +back a pair of French windows were +open, but heavy curtains were drawn +across them. No light was visible. +They listened. A voice was speaking—slowly, +scarcely above a whisper, but a whisper of contemptuous +pride.</p> + +<p>"Yes," it said, "I am the Destroyer! I was +born to kill. It was the curse of my birth."</p> + +<p>The silence of the room was broken only by +the faint sound of a woman sobbing. Monsieur +Dupont and the inspector drew nearer +to the window.</p> + +<p>"You fools!" said the arrogant voice. +"What are your laws of Right and Wrong +to me? I <i>am</i> Right and Wrong. What are +your Codes of Sin? I <i>am</i> Sin. Who are you +to judge me? Who are you to set your little +laws against My Madness?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +There was a long pause. Then the voice +continued, in a tone of dull bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Ever since I had strength to break, I have +broken—to tear, I have torn. The disease +took command of me long before I knew its +meaning. When I was a child the sight of +pretty things frightened me. I used to shrink +from them, and hide my face. I was only quiet +and normal when there were plain, colorless +things about me. As I grew older the fear +developed into hatred—and with hatred grew, +slowly and subtly, the inclination to destroy. +At first the opposition of all that was normal +in me sufficed to keep the desire in check, but +day by day it grew stronger and stronger, and +day by day the power to resist became less and +less. The increase of the hatred into madness +followed the growth of the impulse towards the +first surrender. It came upon me for the first +time when I was twelve. How well I remember +that day! My sanity had fought its strongest +battle, and my head was still throbbing and +swimming with the strain of it. I was taken +to a strange house, and left alone in a bright +room. On the wall there was a picture of a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +very beautiful woman. I couldn't take my +eyes off it. I couldn't move from in front of +it. New passions, that I had never felt before, +were tearing me. The picture seemed to be +alive, to be mocking me. I hated it. I felt +that it was cruel and loathsome—that it had +wronged me. My whole body was on fire—my +brain was flaming. Then something seemed to +snap in my head. I lost myself. Irresistible +forces took possession of me, and used me. +When I came to myself ... the picture was +lying at my feet ... in fragments."</p> + +<p>The voice settled down into an expressionless +monotone, pursuing its story without emotion.</p> + +<p>"From that moment my doom lay on me. +I had made the initial submission. Any attempt +at resistance after that was futile. I +was helpless. Out of my hatred of beauty in +any shape or form came the desire to obtain +the most beautiful things I could find to enjoy +the mad ecstasy of shattering them. I had all +the morbid secret longing to induce attacks of +my own madness—to enjoy the awful exaltation, +the triumph of destruction. I was not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +ashamed. I found myself entirely without +scruple, without conscience, incapable of remorse. +When the periods of desire were upon +me, I hesitated at nothing to gratify them. +At first they were frequent—sometimes there +were only a few days between—but as I grew +older the intervals lengthened, until sometimes +I dared to think myself free. But, sooner or +later, it came again. I knew all the warning +signals—the creeping in of uncontrollable +thoughts—the brain pictures—the quickening +of mind and body—then the grip of the madness. +All I could do at such times was to +collect a number of things sufficiently beautiful +to satisfy my lust, and lock myself in to an +orgy of destruction. Then I was normal again +for another period. So I grew up. When I +was twenty, I learnt the truth."</p> + +<p>"I told him," a woman's broken voice said. +"I hadn't the heart to tell him before. I was +hoping against hope that the curse would pass +away as he grew into manhood. But when I +saw that it would not ... I told him."</p> + +<p>"Then I knew there was no escape," the dull +voice went on. "The results of my father's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +vices and my mother's madness were my inheritance. +God! ... what a legacy!"</p> + +<p>The voice flamed for an instant—then subsided +again into its previous monotony.</p> + +<p>"The intervals became longer and longer, +but each time the madness recurred it tightened +its clutches. Each time it made me more and +more its own property. Whenever the warnings +showed themselves I fled to the refuge +of Miss Masters's house. She bought and +kept there things on which, when the mania was +at its height, it satisfied me to expend my lust. +But those inanimate things, though sufficient +for that purpose, had no power in themselves to +produce an attack of the madness. The capability +to do that was reserved to a woman's +beauty—the effect of which, so far, I had had +no opportunity to experience. That opportunity +came to me for the first time at Nice—twenty +years ago. I had never seen a really +beautiful woman before I saw Colette d'Orsel."</p> + +<p>Another pause followed the name. The +room behind the curtains remained in tense +silence until the voice resumed.</p> + +<p>"I can remember it now—as if it were yesterday. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +How she stood there—in the soft +shaded light—terribly beautiful. And I—the +Destroyer—watched her paralyzed—knowing +for the first time the pinnacle of my madness. +The sight of her numbed all my sanity. I +could no more have torn myself away from +that place than I could have resisted the new +flood of my disease that broke over me like a +nightmare wave. I was introduced to her. +As I bent over her hand I almost laughed at +the thought of what her horror would have +been if she had known the impulses that surged +through me. Her voice—the touch of her—burnt +into me like flames. I knew what the +end would be, but I was powerless in the grip +of my inheritance. And she—in the pitiless +irony of it—liked me! Three evenings later +I met her in the gardens of the hotel. We sat +together ... alone for the first time. I +struggled. My God, I struggled! But it was +useless. The white shape of her next to me—the +dim outline of her features—the whole +nearness of her beauty.... Then it came on +me, as I knew it would—the final rush of irresistible +hatred. When I knew myself again +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +... she was lying on the ground ... +smashed ... my first living victim."</p> + +<p>The woman sobbed.</p> + +<p>"God forgive him!" she cried. "He was +innocent himself. It wasn't really him...."</p> + +<p>Light footsteps moved across the floor.</p> + +<p>"Let me be," said the voice hardly. "What +God does with me is for God to do. Sit down +again."</p> + +<p>The footsteps returned.</p> + +<p>"I left her there, and went back to the hotel. +I sat down in my room, and analyzed my feelings. +The madness had left me. My mind +was perfectly clear and steady. I felt no horror +at what I had done—no remorse—only a +sense of impersonal regret at the death of an +innocent woman, and a faint detached pity for +her misfortune in crossing my path. I carefully +considered my position, and certainty +that there could be no evidence against me dispelled +any fears for myself—but my cold-blooded +sanity realized that the odds were tremendously +against a recurrence of the same +good fortune, and that the avoidance of the +opposite sex must become the chief care of my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +life. Then I went to bed, and slept soundly. +The discovery of Colette d'Orsel's body early +the next morning provided the sensation of the +year at Nice. The police were confounded. +There was no motive—no clue. It is an unsolved +mystery to-day."</p> + +<p>The callousness of the story was so revolting +that even the inspector, seasoned as he was, +allowed a muttered expression of disgust to +escape him. But Monsieur Dupont remained +as silent and still as the house itself.</p> + +<p>"Ten years later," continued the voice, "I +went to America. For five years I had been +free from any return of the madness. You +can imagine the longing to be like other men—to +presume on the years of immunity. I felt +unshakably sane. I even felt that I had never +been mad. I gloried in the keenness of my +intellect, the absolute order and control of my +thoughts. What had I to do with madness? +But in Boston ... I saw Margaret McCall. +In an instant I was mad. In an instant——"</p> + +<p>A cry tore the air—a cry so awful in its +inhuman fury that the two listeners shrank +back horrified. For a moment the room +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +seethed with confusion. The voices of men +and women were blended in rage, terror, and +command. Then the curtains were wrenched +aside, and two figures rushed out shrieking into +the darkness of the garden.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Beauty-Killer</span></p> + + +<p>Four more figures dashed out through +the curtains—two women and two +men. The inspector and Monsieur +Dupont joined them. Guided by the +sounds in front of them, they dashed across +the garden at the top of their speed.</p> + +<p>A black wall of earth loomed up before them, +like the rising of a gigantic wave. It was +strongly rivetted, and must have been at least +ten feet high. It was quite inaccessible from +where the pursuers stopped beneath it.</p> + +<p>"Look! Look!" a woman screamed.</p> + +<p>They looked up.</p> + +<p>"My God!" the inspector exclaimed.</p> + +<p>On the height above them, silhouetted +against the pale sky of the summer night, they +saw a figure—its arms uplifted in an attitude +of majesty, of triumphant defiance. The white +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +light of the moon lit up a face terrible beyond +words in its pride, its sin, and its utter madness.</p> + +<p>"I am the Beauty-Killer! I killed Colette +d'Orsel! I killed Margaret McCall. I killed +Christine Manderson...."</p> + +<p>Another figure scrambled up out of the darkness +on to the height, and the silver head of +Oscar Winslowe gleamed in the light. For +a moment he crouched—then sprang forward +with a yell. The two figures swayed backwards +in a fierce struggle.</p> + +<p>"They will go down!" a man's voice cried. +"It is the edge of a gravel pit. The fence +will not bear. There is a sheer drop of fifty +feet."</p> + +<p>"Let them go," another woman sobbed. "It +is the best way."</p> + +<p>And, even as she spoke, there was the sound +of tearing woodwork. The struggling figures +stood out for an instant with startling clearness—then +disappeared like the sudden shutting +off of a moving picture. And the whole +night seemed to wince at the thud that followed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +"We must go down," the man's voice said, +breaking the silence in an awestruck whisper. +"There is a way round the other side."</p> + +<p>They followed him round the edge of the pit. +It seemed like walking round the world. They +descended a steep slope—and then, in the vast +gray silence, a circle of pale faces surrounded +the dead bodies of Oscar Winslowe, and John +Tranter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Last Truths</span></p> + + +<p>"My friends," said Monsieur Dupont, +"you have already heard a +great part of the story. John +Tranter was the son of Oscar +Winslowe. He was mad. He was, as he +called himself truly, a Beauty-Killer. That +strange lust he inherited from his mother, who +had been robbed of all she cared for, and hoped +for, in life by a beautiful woman, and rendered +insane three months before his birth. It was +a most pathetic tragedy. We shall now +hear——"</p> + +<p>"One moment," Inspector Fay interrupted. +"As I represent the police here, I should be +glad to know, before we go any further, whose +house I am in."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," Monsieur Dupont apologized. +"I had forgotten. You are in the house of +Doctor Lessing," he inclined himself towards +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +the doctor, "who will in due course repeat to +you a statement which he made to me yesterday. +This lady is Miss Masters, who was +Tranter's nurse. Mrs. Astley-Rolfe and Mr. +Copplestone—which, I fancy, is not his correct +name—you know already."</p> + +<p>He added a high compliment to the inspector's +present position and past achievements, +and then turned to Copplestone.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Copplestone, when Tranter did not +return to me at the appointed time this afternoon, +I went to your house. I found great +changes. I found it, as you say, upside down."</p> + +<p>Copplestone was radiant with happiness. +Every trace of the old gloom had left him. +He was a new man.</p> + +<p>"I should think you did!" he retorted. "And +you'd have found the earth upside down as +well, if I'd been able to turn it."</p> + +<p>"I was puzzled," Monsieur Dupont admitted. +"I could not understand it. But I knew this—that +when the shadows roll away from a man's +house, they roll away from his life. When he +draws the blinds and throws open the windows +of his house to the light and the air, he draws +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +the blinds and throws open the windows of his +soul. When he straightens his garden, he +straightens himself. I knew that before you +would lift the cloud from your house something +must have lifted the cloud from you. You had +been delivered——"</p> + +<p>"There was a fellow in the Bible," said Copplestone—"I +think he was a king—who was +cured of leprosy by taking a dip in a river. +I don't know what happened afterwards, but I +am quite sure that he turned his palace upside +down when he got back."</p> + +<p>He sprang up, his face illuminated with all +the wonder of his new birth.</p> + +<p>"I am free!" he cried. "Free! That's what +my house told you. I had been brought out +into the light after half a life of darkness. I +had been released after forty years of prison, +of torment that all the tortures of the Inquisition +at once couldn't have equalled!"</p> + +<p>He stared about him, like an intoxicated man.</p> + +<p>"This room is too small!" he almost shouted. +"Everything is too small. I want to dance on +the Universe. I want the world to be a football. +I want to play enormous games with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +giants—" He checked himself abruptly, and +sat down. "Forgive me," he said. "You +would understand, if you knew what I have +suffered."</p> + +<p>"I can, for one," agreed the doctor heartily.</p> + +<p>"And I, indeed," said Monsieur Dupont. +"But to proceed with the story—I think it +would be better to commence with what Miss +Masters has to tell us."</p> + +<p>He bowed to a gray-haired, grief-stricken +woman. There was a pause before she overcame +her emotion sufficiently to speak.</p> + +<p>"I took charge of Mary Winslowe's child +from its birth," she began, at last. "She entrusted +it to me in her sane moments, and I +kept my trust faithfully. Perhaps it would +have been better if I had not."</p> + +<p>"You did your duty," the doctor said.</p> + +<p>"It was a condition that he should never +come under his father's influence, or even know +his real name. He was to be kept in complete +ignorance of the tragedy of his birth. It was +necessary for him to be christened in his proper +name to legalize the inheritance of his mother's +fortune, but after that I took him away, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +brought him up in strict accordance with my +promises. He was told that both his parents +had been drowned at sea. I gave him the name +of John Tranter—Tranter was an old family +name of mine. He was a bonny little fellow. +I never thought that he might have inherited +his mother's madness."</p> + +<p>"The Laws of Nature are inexorable," said +the doctor. "If only the Second Commandment +were given to people as the Law of +Nature instead of the threat of God, it would +be of some value."</p> + +<p>"I hardly realized it," she went on, "even +when the symptoms had unmistakably developed. +But it increased too plainly to be denied. +I hoped and prayed that the horrible disease +would pass away from him as he grew up—but +it grew stronger and stronger with him. +At last he made me tell him what it really was. +It was against my promise, but he had to know. +I pledged my word that I would keep his secret, +and it was arranged that whenever he felt the +approach of an attack he would come to me. I +kept things for him. At first smaller things +satisfied him. He was content to destroy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +flowers, pictures, prettily colored china, anything +that was beautiful. But after that visit +to France, when he was twenty, there was a +change. He never told me what had happened—that +he had killed a woman—but from that +time only a woman's beauty would satisfy him. +The attacks became few and far between, but +when they came he would have died with the +very force of his madness if he had not had +some representation of a beautiful woman to +expend it on."</p> + +<p>"It's frightful—incredible," the inspector exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"It was all the more pitiful," she said, "because +his sanity was so wonderful. He had +a towering intellect. He succeeded in anything +he put his hand to."</p> + +<p>"He was looked upon as one of the greatest +authorities on finance in the country," said the +inspector.</p> + +<p>"He could have been a Member of Parliament +before he was thirty if he had cared for +politics. He refused a title. To be a Privy +Councillor was the only honor he accepted. +And he—one of England's great men—came +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +to my little house at Streatham to gratify his +madness to destroy."</p> + +<p>She looked round at them defiantly, anger +displacing the sorrow on her face.</p> + +<p>"But he was not guilty," she declared. "His +hands may have killed those three women—but +he was not guilty. Nor was that poor innocent +woman, his mother, who died in the madhouse. +They were both clean of sin. It was on his +wicked father that the guilt lay. It was Oscar +Winslowe who was responsible for the lives +that have fallen to his sins. Oscar Winslowe, +and no one else."</p> + +<p>"I bear witness to that," agreed Doctor +Lessing. "Mary Winslowe was the gentlest, +the sweetest, and the most patient woman that +ever walked this earth, as you will see when I +tell you my story. And he was the biggest +blackguard that ever blasphemed the likeness +of his Maker."</p> + +<p>"It is true," said the woman.</p> + +<p>She drew back in her chair, and pressed a +hand to her forehead.</p> + +<p>"That is all I have to tell you," she concluded.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +"Last night," said Monsieur Dupont, "I +called at your house, and was told by the lady +who lives next door that you had left in a +hurry two hours before."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"I presume that you did so on instructions +from Tranter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Evidently he shadowed me to Paddington +Station, as I expected he would, and decided +to remove you in case I should get on the right +track."</p> + +<p>"He sent me an urgent message," she said, +"saying that a great disaster hung over his +head, and that I must go away without leaving +any trace. He told me where to go, and promised +to come to me and explain."</p> + +<p>"He knew that it was only you who could +give any proof against him?"</p> + +<p>"After forty years," she returned, with a +touch of bitterness, "he ought to have known +that I should not betray him."</p> + +<p>"Even if one had told you of those three +dreadful crimes that he had committed, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +that an innocent man was accused of the last +one?"</p> + +<p>She locked her hands together.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me," she cried. "I don't know +what I should have done."</p> + +<p>"He foresaw that problem," said Monsieur +Dupont. "His sanity was, as you have said, +wonderful. But the sanity of madness is +always wonderful—that is why madmen are +such superb criminals. It is only a madman +who can be really sane. Although I allowed +him to see that I knew already something of +the truth, he never betrayed himself by even a +tremor. He had all the grand egotism of the +born criminal. His disguise was impenetrable. +He was never sure how far my knowledge +went, but not a sign of anxiety did he ever +show. We played a game of cross purposes. +I used him, under the pretense of requiring +his assistance, to keep him by my side, and in +the hope that as he saw me draw nearer to him +step by step, he would break down. He, on +his side, allowed himself to be used in order to +keep watch on my moves, and safeguard himself +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +against them, as he did in the case of +Miss Masters. He dared not leave me. In all +my conversations with him, I placed him more +and more at his wit's end to know how much I +really knew. As much from curiosity as from +anything, I instructed him to discover the +secret of Mr. Copplestone's house, for I was +convinced that it did contain an interesting +secret. He was quite willing to make the +attempt. It did not promise to lead me any +nearer to him. He little thought when he +went—and I had little thought when I sent +him—that he was going to his own undoing."</p> + +<p>"And my salvation," Copplestone added.</p> + +<p>"There," said Monsieur Dupont, "it passes +to you to enlighten me."</p> + +<p>"First," returned Copplestone, "I should +like to know what caused you to be so positive, +after being in my house only two or three +hours, that there was a secret in it."</p> + +<p>"My instinct for the mysterious is seldom +at fault," said Monsieur Dupont. "Have you +not observed how, by their characters, their +habits, and their desires, human beings draw +to themselves certain events and conditions of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +life? And it is equally true that houses draw +to themselves certain contents and certain +kinds of inhabitants. If a house is particularly +adapted to contain a secret, in the course +of time will certainly contain one. By a few +strokes of his pencil an architect can condemn +a house to become the scene of a murder, as +surely as he can make it a convenient or inconvenient +dwelling. Your house was constructed +to hide a secret. And I was not only sure that +it did hide one, but that it hid one which was +in some way connected with the crime in the +garden."</p> + +<p>"I have had some experience of that instinct +of yours," the inspector remarked, with a +somewhat rueful smile.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Copplestone, "instinct or no +instinct, it certainly did hide a secret, and that +secret was that Oscar Winslowe lived in it—if +his condition could be called living. For the +last five years he had been practically a helpless +imbecile. He seldom uttered a sound beyond +a gibber, and hardly seemed to be conscious. +He was suffering the natural consequences of +his vices. He had been gradually reaching +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +that condition since nature had dealt him her +first stroke of vengeance more than thirty +years ago. One by one his faculties had rotted. +He was a living mass of decay."</p> + +<p>"It was a sure thing," the doctor said. +"Such a condition was bound to come. I +prophesied it to his face when I first knew him."</p> + +<p>"That was the secret of my house," Copplestone +proceeded. "My own secret was that I +believed myself to be his son—the inheritor of +the curse that really belonged to Tranter. +And the horror of it, the helplessness, the constant +contemplation of the awful state of the +man I knew as my father, and the morbid +certainty that sooner or later I must come to +the same state, actually drove me to the madness +that was not really in me at all."</p> + +<p>"But how had you come to believe yourself +to be his son?" the inspector asked.</p> + +<p>"That was the last of Winslowe's diabolical +acts. He inherited a large fortune on condition +that a child of his, to whom it could +succeed, was alive at the time of the testator's +death. He did not know anything of his own +child, and did not want to. He was afraid +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +that if he made public inquiries for it, he +might learn publicly that it was dead, and lose +his claim. Also, he was afraid of other complications +and exposures."</p> + +<p>"And with good reason," said the doctor +grimly.</p> + +<p>"He wanted a child of five to produce as +his son, George Copplestone Winslowe—and +possibly make away with in due course after +the business was settled. I am quite sure that +would have been my fate if nature had not +come to my rescue by striking him. He knew, +from his knowledge of the underworld of London, +how such things could be arranged without +risk. No doubt he bought me for a few +pounds. I am not the first heir to an estate +who has been produced by such means."</p> + +<p>"True enough," agreed the inspector. "The +heir to a million has been bought for a fiver."</p> + +<p>"But a few years after taking possession of +the fortune, he was struck down, as I have said, +by the first instalment of nature's retribution, +and was incapable of carrying out his plans. +No one cared for me. No one thought of removing +me from the sight and influence of his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +growing imbecility. I was brought up under +the shadow of it. And so the horror was born +in me—the belief that I was mad. What +chance had I to resist it, in those surroundings? +When I came to an age to do so, I +searched out the story of my birth, of my +father's excesses and my mother's madness, +and my doom crashed upon me. Can you wonder +that I became what I was?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Monsieur Dupont.</p> + +<p>"I dropped the name of Winslowe. It was +loathsome to me. I used my other two names, +George Copplestone. They, at least, had come +from my mother's side. My old manservant +and his wife stuck to me, and kept my secrets. +The income devolved on me in consequence of +Winslowe's incapability. And so things went +on. In my morbid demoralization I saw myself +growing nearer and nearer to that wretched +creature day by day."</p> + +<p>"Dreadful!" shuddered the doctor. "It +must have been a living hell."</p> + +<p>"Then, last night, Tranter came. He +climbed up on the ivy, and tried to spy into +Winslowe's room. But I was there, and heard +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +him. I dragged him in through the window. +I suppose it was some look, some likeness to +his mother, that stirred Winslowe's memory. +He recognized him, and a flash of sanity came +back to him. Under that sudden mental +stimulation he recovered his power of movement, +and was able to confess at least a part +of the truth. Tranter was taken off his guard, +and I forced him to admit his madness. I compelled +him to take Winslowe and myself to Miss +Masters, and she, in her turn, brought us here."</p> + +<p>"I imagined she would," Monsieur Dupont +remarked.</p> + +<p>Copplestone drew a deep breath, and laughed +aloud.</p> + +<p>"And I am like other men! I can live as +other men live. I can do what other men do. +I can——" His eyes rested on the woman +beside him, and his face grew tender. "Yes," +he repeated slowly, "I can ... I can...."</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"And it was Tranter who killed Christine +Manderson...." the inspector said, almost to +himself.</p> + +<p>"It was," said Monsieur Dupont. "He admitted +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +to you on the night of the crime that +he had known her in America years ago. And +here we have a curious study in conflicting +emotions. When he first met her, he had +already killed two beautiful women. She was +certainly more beautiful than either—yet he +was able to associate with her on intimate +terms for a considerable time, and even to tear +himself away from her at last, without adding +her to the victims of his madness. How was +he able to do that? It was undoubtedly +because he loved her. He had not loved either +of the other two, so there had been no opposing +emotion to his mania. But he loved Christine +Manderson, and love was capable of holding +the madness in check, because love, in its full +strength, is the strongest of all human emotions. +Love is stronger than madness, and +ten times stronger than sanity. But after he +left her the love faded to a certain extent, +while the madness increased. Therefore, +when he was suddenly confronted with her +extraordinary beauty a few nights ago, the +love that had faded was unable to restrain the +madness that had not. And he killed her."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +"My God!" exclaimed Copplestone, "to think +that he stood there with us over the body he +had torn—and even lifted it into my arms—without +so much as a quiver."</p> + +<p>"He was not capable of remorse or regret," +Monsieur Dupont returned. "If he had been, +he would have killed himself long ago." He +paused. "There remain now a few points of +my own part in this affair to tell you, and we +will then ask the doctor for his statement."</p> + +<p>"Before you do that," said Doctor Lessing, +bluntly, "I, for one, am curious to know who +you really are, and how you came to take such +a large hand in the whole business."</p> + +<p>"My connection with the whole business," +replied Monsieur Dupont, "is a long story. +I have already told it to Inspector Fay, and +I will tell it again with pleasure when all the +more important statements have been made. +As regards myself——"</p> + +<p>Inspector Fay took upon himself the continuation +of the sentence.</p> + +<p>"Up to a few years ago," he said, "Monsieur +Dupont was, under a certain pseudonym, the +most brilliant member of the French Secret +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +Service—and was, in fact, admitted to have no +equal in the whole of Europe."</p> + +<p>"A gross exaggeration, my friends," protested +Monsieur Dupont. He waved the inspector +to silence. "When I came to London +last week," he told them, "I came knowing +that John Tranter had killed two women. I +had known that when I returned from America +six months before. You can imagine the difficulties +in front of me then. I was to prove +that an English Privy Councillor, a well-known +and highly respected man, was in reality a +madman who was responsible for two of the +most dreadful crimes that had ever been committed. +I had never seen him, but fortunately +he was in Paris at that time, and I had no +difficulty in making his acquaintance. By +extreme good fortune, I was able to render +him a service in the streets which placed him +under an obligation to me. I observed him +carefully, only to find him to all appearances +the sanest and most level-headed man I had +ever met. But there was one thing—he shut +himself away completely from the society of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +women, and he avoided all places where beauty +was to be found in any form. But I was so far +from any proof. My next step was to test my +own belief that his madness was an inherent +disease, and to do that I employed inquiry +agents in this country to discover whether there +were any records of such a case in existence. +It is only two weeks since I received information +from them that a woman named Mary +Winslowe had died in an asylum from that +very kind of madness, forty years ago."</p> + +<p>"That is true," corroborated the doctor.</p> + +<p>"I came to London immediately. While +following up my clues, I renewed my acquaintance +with Tranter, and pressed him to act as +my cicerone in London society, hoping to be +able to entrap him into a situation that would +lead him to betray himself. And he took me to +Richmond. What happened there, you know. +Though he knew when Christine Manderson +first came into the room what the outcome +would be, he was unable to tear himself away. +And in the garden she forced herself upon him. +He tried to resist her, but his madness overcame +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +him. That is the explanation of the +absence of a cry for help, which once I stated +to be the key to the mystery. If she had been +walking along that path to the house, she +would have had time to cry out, no matter +how quickly the assailant had sprung out at +her. But she did not utter a cry because she +was already in the arms of the assailant, compelling +him to a passionate embrace, and without +doubt it was a simple thing to strangle her +silently in that very position."</p> + +<p>"Good God!" Copplestone shuddered.</p> + +<p>"His account of how she had asked him to +find Mr. Copplestone, and tell him she was not +well, and of how he had left her on her way to +the house, was a succession of ingenious lies +which could not be disproved. That is my +story," concluded Monsieur Dupont. "The +next most important point at the moment is +that James Layton is cleared of a charge from +which he could not possibly have saved himself."</p> + +<p>"Layton will be released with full honors +to-morrow," the inspector said.</p> + +<p>"And I think," added Monsieur Dupont, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +"that there will be another matter—not unconnected +with a young lady named Jenny +West—upon which we shall have to congratulate +him—and with very good reason."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></p> + + +<p>Half-an-hour later, when the +doctor's statement had been made, +Copplestone and Mrs. Astley-Rolfe +stood together in the flower-laden +garden.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said the new man, "I brought +you here to witness my deliverance. Yesterday, +when you had left me, I made up my mind +to put an end to my life. To-day I am free. +The cloud has rolled away. I am fit to keep +my promise—if you wish it kept."</p> + +<p>She smiled up at him through happy tears.</p> + +<p>"If I wish it kept!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" Copplestone exclaimed, "I believe +in every miracle that has ever been reported, +suggested, or hinted at, from the first +hour of the world!"</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROOKED HOUSE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22820-h.txt or 22820-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/8/2/22820">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/8/2/22820</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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