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diff --git a/22820-8.txt b/22820-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d1d1f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/22820-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7376 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Crooked House, by Brandon Fleming + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Crooked House + + +Author: Brandon Fleming + + + +Release Date: September 30, 2007 [eBook #22820] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROOKED HOUSE*** + + +E-text prepared by D. Alexander and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from digital material +generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/crookedhouse00flemiala + + + + + +THE CROOKED HOUSE + +by + +BRANDON FLEMING + + + + + + + +New York +Edward J. Clode + +Copyright, 1921, by +Edward J. Clode +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I A STRANGE RIDDLE 9 + + II THE CROOKED HOUSE 19 + + III THE ENDLESS GARDEN 33 + + IV DESTRUCTION 45 + + V COPPLESTONE 53 + + VI THE TRAIL OF CORPSES 65 + + VII TRANTER 71 + + VIII MRS. ASTLEY-ROLFE 80 + + IX THE DANSEUSE 83 + + X MR. GLUCKSTEIN 85 + + XI THE CLERGYMAN 87 + + XII MR. BOLSOVER 89 + + XIII THE TRINITY OF DEATH 92 + + XIV WITHOUT TRACE 105 + + XV A BUILDER OF MEN 117 + + XVI A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 133 + + XVII MR. GLUCKSTEIN IN CONFIDENCE 142 + + XVIII THE WIT OF THE PINK LADY 151 + + XIX DETAINED ON SUSPICION 159 + + XX THE BIRTH OF THE KILLER 176 + + XXI A HASTY FLIGHT 187 + + XXII TRANTER ATTACKS THE CROOKED HOUSE 195 + + XXIII A DUEL 203 + + XXIV THE SECRET OF THE HOUSE 220 + + XXV TRUER COLORS 233 + + XXVI PROVIDING FOR THE WORST 241 + + XXVII THE DISAPPEARANCE OF TRANTER 250 + +XXVIII IN PURSUIT 259 + + XXIX ETHICS OF KILLING 262 + + XXX MONSIEUR DUPONT'S TASK 273 + + XXXI WHAT THEY HEARD 279 + + XXXII THE BEAUTY-KILLER 288 + +XXXIII LAST TRUTHS 291 + + XXXIV CONCLUSION 312 + + + + +THE CROOKED HOUSE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A STRANGE RIDDLE + + +"Monsieur Tranter! A moment!" + +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. + +"Good Lord! Monsieur Dupont? You in London?" + +Monsieur Dupont described circles with his country's largest silk hat. + +"I in London! An event, my friend, in the history of your city!" + +He laughed softly, and replaced the hat on his head. They shook hands +warmly. + +"This is a delightful surprise," Tranter said, turning back to the door. +"Come in." + +"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." + +"An hour?" Tranter exclaimed. "But surely----" + +Monsieur Dupont squeezed himself into the narrow hall with difficulty. + +"I possess the gift of patience," he claimed modestly. "In London it is +of great value." + +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. + +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 _bon-viveur_, he was also unmistakably a man with a purpose. + +"And what has brought you to London?" Tranter asked, sitting opposite to +him. + +"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." + +"I hope," Tranter returned, "that what you require will enable me to +make some sort of return to the man who saved my life." + +Monsieur Dupont waved his hands in a gigantic gesture. + +"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." + +"You have but to name it," said the Privy Councillor. + + * * * * * + +Suddenly there was no smile on Monsieur Dupont's face. Without the smile +it was a very much less pleasant face. + +"Two years ago, in my own country," his voice acquired a new snap, "some +one asked me a riddle." + +"A riddle?" Tranter echoed, surprised at the change. + +"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." + +"This is interesting," said Tranter, smiling slightly at the huge +Frenchman's intense seriousness. + +"You, my friend, can help me." + +"I am at your service," the other promised. + +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. + +"Ah, forgive me! I had almost committed the crime to be serious. It is a +fault that is easy in your London." + +"What do you want me to do for you?" Tranter asked. + +"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." + +Tranter was somewhat taken aback. + +"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." + +"Forgive me," said Monsieur Dupont again. "I had imagined I should be +asking a thing the most simple." + +"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." + +"An ugly woman," said Monsieur Dupont, "is the real friend of man--if he +would but know it." + +"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. + +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 on it. Tranter +turned over all the cards, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. + +"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?" + +"Let us dispense with to-morrow night, then," said Monsieur Dupont. + +Tranter ran through the cards again. + +"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." + +"Ah!" said Monsieur Dupont. + +"George Copplestone has favored me with 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." + +Monsieur Dupont bowed his gratitude. Tranter replaced the cards, and +returned to his seat. + +"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." + +"To confine myself to desirable acquaintances," said Monsieur Dupont, +"would be my last wish." + +"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." + +"The unaccountable vagaries of human nature," said Monsieur Dupont, "are +the foundation of my riddle." + +"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." + +"It is arranged," Monsieur Dupont declared, "I go with you to Richmond." + +"Very well," Tranter agreed. "Call for me here at eight o'clock, and we +will go. Help yourself to another drink." + +Monsieur Dupont helped himself to another drink. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CROOKED HOUSE + + +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 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. + +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. + +The house he lived in was the only sort of 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. + +The room into which John Tranter and Monsieur Victorien Dupont were +ushered at eight-thirty on the following night presented 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. + +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 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. + +A West-End clergyman, of Evangelical appearance, who translated French +farces under a _nom-de-plume_, 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. + +"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!" + +"Indeed they are not," he assured her. He stood aside. "Permit me to +introduce my friend, Monsieur Dupont." + +"This is delightful!" she smiled. + +Monsieur Dupont bent over her hand. + +"Madame," he declared, "I change completely my opinion of London." + +"Where is Copplestone?" Tranter inquired, gazing with amazement round +the festooned room. + +A frown passed over Mrs. Astley-Rolfe's face. + +"He has not yet appeared. He sent in a message asking us to wait for him +here. He is up to some freak obviously." + +"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?" + +"I don't know," she returned, a little shortly. "He has told us +nothing." + +Her eyes strayed anxiously to the door. The movements of her hands were +nervous. + +"I wish he would come," she muttered--and stood away from them. + +Tranter drew his companion across the room. + +"Well?" he asked, smiling. "How do you like this somewhat showy +welcome?" + +"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont slowly--"into what manner of house +have you brought me?" + +"Copplestone is a curious fellow," Tranter replied. "I warned you to be +prepared for something unusual." + +"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." + +"These decorations are crooked enough, at any rate," Tranter laughed. + +"These decorations," said Monsieur Dupont, "are not only crooked--they +are bad. Very bad." + +He lowered his voice. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes. + +"Don't you see," he whispered, "that decorations can be good or bad, +just as men and 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----" + +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. + +"Christine," he panted. "Christine...." + +He stopped, and gazed round in a dazed fashion, clenching and +unclenching his hands. + +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe sprang forward with a suppressed cry, and confronted +him tensely. + +"Well?" she cried sharply--"what about Christine?" + +He did not seem to be aware of her. He was staring at the flags, the +lights, the flowers, and the colored paper. + +"It is true then," he muttered. "These things...." + +The woman was as white as death. Her hands were locked together. She +swayed. + +"What is true?" she gasped. + +The young man took no notice of her. Copplestone's elderly manservant +appeared in the doorway, and approached him. + +"Mr. Copplestone declines to see you, sir--and requests that you will +leave his house. I have orders, otherwise, to send for the police." + +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. + +"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. + +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 +blow. For some moments she stood motionless. Then, with a supreme effort +of self-control, she turned, and faced them steadily. + +"I think," she said calmly, "that if Miss Manderson is in the house she +should be warned." + +"Fellow was mad," said the theatrical manager. + +"_Tout-a-fait_ daft," agreed the Russian danseuse. + +"It would have been safer," Tranter remarked, "if he had been given in +charge." + +There was something very like contempt in Mrs. Astley-Rolfe's glance. + +"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." + +"Mosth creditable," said the Hebrew financier. + +She turned her back on them, and stood apart. + +Monsieur Dupont laid a hand on Tranter's arm. + +"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?" + +"I am beginning to wish that I had _not_ brought you," Tranter returned. +"I don't like the atmosphere." + +"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." + +"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." + +Monsieur Dupont shook his head. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"This Mademoiselle Manderson--do you know her?" + +"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." + +Monsieur Dupont's glance found Mrs. Astley-Rolfe. + +"No," he remarked softly--"I do not think she is." + +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. + +"Copplestone," Tranter whispered to his companion. + +"_Mon Dieu_," muttered Monsieur Dupont. + +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. + +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. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said deliberately, "permit me to present you +to my fiancée--Miss Christine Manderson." + +He drew the curtains apart. + +"_Mon Dieu_," said Monsieur Dupont again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE ENDLESS GARDEN + + +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. + +"It was that madman rushing in unnerved her," Copplestone cried +fiercely. "Wish I'd called in the police. Curse him!" + +Her hand closed on his. "No, no," she whispered. "He must not be +touched. He didn't mean it." + +"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." + +The manager proffered further stimulant. The color began to return to +her face, but her eyes were wide and strained. Copplestone watched her +closely. + +"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." + +"Thertainly," agreed the financier. + +But Christine Manderson rose, and leant on Copplestone's arm. Her +self-control was exerted to the utmost, but she trembled. + +"Forgive me," she said softly. "I am all right now. Please don't go." + +"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. + +"I was sure you wouldn't mind my bringing a friend with me," Tranter +said. "Monsieur Dupont has just arrived from Paris." + +"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." + +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. + +"Glad we didn't miss this," said the theatrical manager. + +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. + +The night was hot and sultry. The distant roll of thunder added to the +tenseness of the atmosphere. And hearing it, Christine Manderson +shuddered. + +"Storms are unlucky to me," she said, listening until the sullen roll +died away. "Why should we have one to-night--of all nights?" + +The clergyman adroitly twisted the subject 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. + +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. + +The glowing tips of cigars and cigarettes disappeared in various +directions across the lawns. + + * * * * * + +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, all of which +seemed only to lead still further into the darkness. + +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. + +"_Nom de Dieu_," said Monsieur Dupont, in despair. + +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. + +The path took a sharp turn. He stepped 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. + +The whisper thrilled with indescribable passion. + +"I love you. You are my body, my soul, my god, my all. I love you--I +love you--I love you." + +It was the voice of Christine Manderson. + +Not a tremor escaped the listener. Parting the leaves with a hand as +steady as the ground itself, he waited for the light. + +"I have no world but you--no thought but you. I want nothing but you ... +you ... you." A sob broke her voice. + +"Go," the answer was almost inaudible in its tenseness. "Go--and forget. +I have nothing for you." + +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 hands and holding her away from +him--John Tranter. + +She struggled to bring herself closer to him. + +"I thought you were dead," she gasped. + +"I _am_ dead," he answered. "I am dead to you. Let me go." + +The listener could almost hear the effort of her breathing. + +"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?" + +"For your own sake," he said slowly. "I am no mate for such a woman as +you." + +"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?" + +"I would have spared you this meeting," he returned, "if I had known. +But the name Christine Manderson was strange to me. I had never heard +it before." + +"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." + +"Go," his voice was torn. "For God's sake go ... Thea." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Nothing," he answered. + +In spite of his resistance she was forcing herself nearer to him. The +magic of her presence was binding him. + +"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?" + +"Keep back!" he muttered. + +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. + +"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...." + +A groan was wrung from him. He crushed her to him. + +"Come then!" he cried desperately. "Come, if you will!..." + +A vivid flash, which seemed to burst almost over their heads, showed +them locked in each other's arms, their lips pressed together. + +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. + +"The madman is in the garden! He ran this way." + +"_Diable!_" said Monsieur Dupont. + +"I found him sneaking towards the house. He bolted out here." + +Unaccustomed to physical exertion, the manager laid a heavy hand on +Monsieur Dupont's shoulder, and mopped his forehead breathlessly. + +"The scoundrel means mischief," he declared. "He must be found." + +"Where is Mr. Copplestone?" + +"I called him, but couldn't get an answer. He must be away at the other +end of the garden." + +"No one has passed this way," Monsieur Dupont assured him. "For a +half-hour I have been wandering about these horrible paths." + +"It's a devil of a garden," the manager admitted. "The fellow won't get +very far. Let's look about here." + +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. + +Monsieur Dupont blocked the way. + +"No, no--it would be a waste of time. I have come from there." + +"To the river, then," the manager cried, bearing him round. "He may be +trying to get across." + +He was evidently familiar with the intricacies of the garden. In a few +minutes, after a dozen turnings, they reached the gleam of water. + +"Keep your eyes open for the next flash," the manager directed. + +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. + +Monsieur Dupont blinked after him in astonishment. + +He was alone again--in a new and even darker part of the endless +garden. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DESTRUCTION + + +A deep-toned clock in the house struck twelve. + +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. + +"It's almost an insult," she complained overtaking him. + +"Noth a penny more," said the financier firmly. + +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. + +The Reverend Percival Delamere was rushing towards the house as if the +entire penalties of sin were at his heels. + +"A corpse! A corpse by the river! Miss Manderson has been murdered!" + +The danseuse uttered a terrified cry. The financier shook. + +"Murderedth?" he gasped, shrinking back. + +The clergyman was shattered by horror. + +"By the river ... almost torn to pieces...." + +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. + +"Copplestone," he choked, "something dreadful has happened to Miss +Manderson. I found her by the river ... horribly torn...." + +From another direction, Tranter reached them, breathless. + +"What is the matter? What has happened?" + +The financier clung to him. + +"Mith Manderthon ... murderedth." + +Tranter shook him off, and stood very still. The agony on his face +passed unnoticed. As 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. + +The others followed. They found her lying a few yards from the water's +edge. The manager struck a match, and they looked down. + +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. + +"God!" Tranter cried--"some one must have stamped on her!" + +He bent down. "Thea...." he whispered. + +Something like a sob shook him. But the others did not see. + +"It must have been a wild beast," shuddered the clergyman. + +"It is the work of a madman," said the manager hoarsely. "He has utterly +destroyed her--as he threatened." + +George Copplestone stood without a tremor. 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. + +"Wait a bit," said the manager, looking at him curiously. "She ought not +to be moved before the police come." + +Copplestone straightened himself, and remained silent. + +"Let Gluckstein take the women in, and telephone to the Police Station," +the manager suggested. + +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe raised her bloodless face. + +"Yes, yes," she sobbed. "Let me go. It's too horrible. I can't bear it." + +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. + +"Someone ith moving! Out there behind uth! Whoth there? Whoth there?" + +They swung round, straining their eyes into the blackness. + +"Who's there?" the manager called. + +An answering voice reached them. The manager struck another match. On +the edge of the darkness they saw an enormous figure. + +"It's Monsieur Dupont!" Tranter cried. + +"My friends," exclaimed Monsieur Dupont, "at last I find you! What is +the matter?" + +Copplestone looked at him steadily. + +"The matter," he said evenly, "is that Miss Manderson has been +murdered." + +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. + +For a tense minute he knelt beside it. The others waited. + +"Destroyed," they heard him mutter--"utterly destroyed...." + +When he rose, his eyes were full of tears. + +"It is terrible. Who was with her last?" + +"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." + +"Where are your police?" asked Monsieur Dupont. + +"Gluckstein is going to take the ladies back to the house, and telephone +for them," the manager returned. + +The financier departed with his charges. The four men remained, facing +each other over the dead body. Rain was falling heavily. + +"Poor girl," said the clergyman huskily. + +"That such a brute should be at large," the manager added. + +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. + +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 to complete the work of +destruction. + +"We can't leave her out in this--police or no police," the clergyman +shivered. + +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. + +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. + +Then all the energy was snuffed out of him 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. + +The silence remained unbroken until a loud ringing at the front door +bell announced the arrival of the police. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +COPPLESTONE + + +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. + +"What, in God's name, was there in this garden to-night?" he demanded, +shuddering. + +"A madman," the theatrical manager muttered. + +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. + +"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." + +He gave a brief order to an attendant constable, who moved to the door. + +"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." + +The constable marshalled them into an adjoining room, which the +danseuse filled with complaints at this prolonged detention. Copplestone +remained behind. His dullness and immobility had increased almost to a +stupor. + +"She was engaged to marry me," he said, in a slow lifeless tone, "since +yesterday." + +Inspector Fay seated himself at a table, and opened his note-book. + +"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." + +"Justice?" Copplestone returned, in the same weary, monotonous voice. +"Of what use is Justice? Can it call her back--or mend her broken body?" + +"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." + +Copplestone sat down, and passed an unsteady hand across his forehead. + +"Go on," he said dully. + +"Where and when did you first meet Miss Manderson?" + +"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." + +"Do you know anything of her life and associations in America?" + +"Very little. She was not communicative. She only told me a few of her +theatrical experiences." + +"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?" + +"Apparently there was," Copplestone returned. "I did not know it until +to-night." + +Mechanically, in the manner of one repeating a lesson, he described the +visit of the young millionaire, and his threat against Christine +Manderson. + +"And the name of this young man?" the inspector asked, bending over his +note-book. + +"James Layton." + +Inspector Fay looked up sharply. + +"Layton? The man they call the Mad Philanthropist?" + +"I don't know," Copplestone replied wearily. "He may be." + +"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?" + +"She never mentioned him to me," Copplestone stated. "I had not heard of +him until he burst into this house to-night." + +The inspector made several notes. + +"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?" + +"So they told me," Copplestone answered heavily. "I was not in the +room. I refused to see him." + +"And he left quite quietly?" + +"Yes." + +"Did Miss Manderson show any particular fear of the threat?" + +"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." + +"So there was no doubt that she knew him?" + +"No. She certainly knew him." + +"Afterwards, you say, he was seen in the garden when you were all out +after dinner?" the inspector continued. + +"Yes." + +"Who saw him?" + +"Mr. Bolsover, the theatrical manager, found him sneaking about the +house, and chased him out in the direction of the crime." + +"Did any one see him, besides Mr. Bolsover?" + +"Apparently not. He says he called to me--but I had gone into the house +to fill my cigarette-case, and did not hear him." + +"He escaped from Mr. Bolsover, and was not seen again?" + +"Yes." + +"Was there any one else," the inspector asked slowly, "who might, for +any reason, have entertained unfriendly feelings towards Miss +Manderson?" + +Copplestone's glance sharpened a little under the question. + +"I suppose there was," he admitted, with some reluctance. + +"Who was it?" + +Copplestone paused, frowning. + +"Please do not hesitate," the inspector pressed firmly. "We must know +everything." + +"Perhaps," the tired voice confessed, "it wasn't altogether playing the +game to announce my engagement so unexpectedly to--to----" + +"Well?" the inspector insisted--"to whom?" + +"To Phyllis Astley-Rolfe." + +There was silence for a moment. The inspector waited quietly. With an +effort, Copplestone continued. + +"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...." + +The inspector watched him closely. He seemed to be on the verge of +sleep. + +"Then Mrs. Astley-Rolfe had reason to be jealous of Miss Manderson?" the +inspector demanded briskly. + +"I suppose ... she had." + +"Good reason?" + +"Possibly." + +"Had you given her definite cause to believe that you intended to ask +her to marry you?" + +"Perhaps so. At any rate ... I had not given her definite cause to +believe that I didn't." + +His voice sank to a whisper. He leant back limply in his chair. + +"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?" + +Copplestone scarcely opened his eyes. + +"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." + +"Did he find you?" + +"Yes. And I at once went into the house." + +"Where were you when Mr. Tranter found you?" + +"I was crossing the second lawn--towards the tennis courts." + +The inspector was busy with his note-book. + +"Were you alone?" + +"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...." + +"After Mr. Tranter had spoken to you, you say you went into the house at +once?" + +"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...." + +The words trailed off into silence. A convulsive shudder passed through +him. + +"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?" + +The inspector rose. + +"Only one thing. Will you kindly give me the names of your guests in the +other room?" + +Copplestone complied slowly. Inspector Fay wrote the names down. + +"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." + +"Sleep," Copplestone murmured, rising weakly from his chair. "Sleep.... +Good God." + +The inspector himself made a gesture of fatigue. + +"I only got back from another heavy case as your message came in," he +apologized, stifling a yawn. "Tobacco is the only thing that keeps me +going. Could you give me a cigarette?" + +Without answering, Copplestone languidly produced an elaborately jeweled +gold cigarette-case, and handed it to the inspector. + +There were two cigarettes in it. + +Inspector Fay took one, with a perfectly impassive countenance, and +returned the case. Copplestone replaced it in his pocket. + +"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." + +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. + +The inspector stood looking after him, fingering the cigarette +thoughtfully, a very curious expression on his face. He showed no +further signs of fatigue. + +"I wonder why you lied to me," he muttered--and laid the cigarette on +the table. + +He glanced down the list of names, and went to the door. The constable +had mounted guard over his prisoners with extraordinary dignity. The +voice of the danseuse was still raised in lamentation. + +"Monsieur Dupont," the inspector called. + +The constable passed on the summons--and Monsieur Dupont instantly +obeyed it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE TRAIL OF CORPSES + + +The inspector closed the door behind him. "What has brought you back +into the arena?" he asked quietly. + +"A riddle," the Frenchman answered, in an equally low tone. + +"It must have been something pretty big to have tempted _you_," the +inspector remarked, coming closer to him. + +"It was," Monsieur Dupont admitted. + +The other glanced cautiously towards the curtains at the far end of the +room. + +"Why are you here--in this house?" he demanded softly. + +"By chance," Monsieur Dupont replied. + +"Did you know Copplestone before?" + +"I did not. I had never seen him. I came with my friend, Tranter." + +"You were here all the evening?" + +"Yes." + +"Anything to tell me?" the inspector asked, looking at him intently. + +Monsieur Dupont smiled. + +"Only, my friend, that I imagine you will find it an interesting and +somewhat unusual case." + +"That's not enough--from you," the inspector retorted. + +"If I may be permitted to advise--it is a case in which you would do +well to ignore the obvious." + +"I want more than that," insisted the inspector. + +The huge Frenchman remained silent. + +"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'?" + +"The connection of death," said Monsieur Dupont. + +There was something of awe in his voice and manner. + +"For two years," he said, "I have been following in the track of +something, which, in the words of our great Dumas--'must have passed +this way, for I see a corpse.'" + +"That quotation referred to a woman," said the inspector quickly. + +"From me," returned Monsieur Dupont evenly, "it is sexless--at present." + +The inspector frowned. + +"Come," he said impatiently--"in what way are you mixed up in this?" + +"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." + +"What were the two previous crimes?" the inspector asked. + +"Two women--two very beautiful women." + +Inspector Fay started, staring at him. + +"Miss Manderson was a beautiful woman," he said slowly. + +Monsieur Dupont's enormous head nodded several times. + +"She was," he agreed deliberately. "The most beautiful of the three." + +There was silence for a moment. Then the inspector laid a hand on the +Frenchman's shoulder. + +"We have worked together a good many times in the past," he said, with +more cordiality than before. + +"We have, indeed," Monsieur Dupont responded pleasantly. + +"And though your methods were always fanciful compared with our's, I +know enough of your powers to ask you a simple, straight question." + +"I am at your service," said Monsieur Dupont. + +"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?" + +Monsieur Dupont's gigantic form seemed to 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. + +"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." + +"You always spoke in parables," the inspector exclaimed irritably. "What +do you mean?" + +"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." + +The inspector appeared somewhat relieved. + +Monsieur Dupont's eyes were fixed on an unframed photograph of Christine +Manderson, which stood on a small cabinet in front of him. + +"Please compound a felony," he said softly--and slipped it into his +pocket. + +"Where are you to be found?" the inspector asked. + +"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." + +He turned to the door. + +"Stay," said the inspector. + +He stopped. + +"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." + +"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "I will do my best to give you a good +race." + +He passed out of the room. The inspector followed him to the door, and +called for Mr. Tranter. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +TRANTER + + +"Mr. Tranter," said the inspector, "I understand that you were the last +person to see Miss Manderson alive." + +"I believe I was," Tranter replied. + +The inspector sat down again at the table, and re-opened his note-book. + +"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?" + +"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----" + +"Did you see or hear any one in that part of the garden?" the inspector +interrupted. + +"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." + +"You will be able to show me the place where you left her?" + +"I think so. It was very dark--but I remember that we had just passed +under a number of rose-arches across the path." + +"It was, I presume, further away from the house than the spot where the +body was found?" + +"The body was found close to the river, about half-way between the house +and the place where I left her," Tranter replied. + +"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?" + +"Along those winding paths," Tranter calculated, "I should say roughly +about a hundred and fifty yards." + +"Did she start to walk to the house immediately you left her?" + +"Yes. She started in that direction as I started in the other." + +"Then," mused the inspector, "she must have met the criminal, whoever it +was, at the most within three minutes of leaving you?" + +"Presumably she must," Tranter agreed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Where did you find Mr. Copplestone?" + +"On the lawns." + +"How long after you parted from her?" + +"Only a few minutes. Four or five." + +"Was he alone?" + +"Yes. He was looking for Miss Manderson himself. He went into the house +at once." + +Silence followed while the inspector added to his notes. + +"Mr. Tranter," he said quietly--and his eyes 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?" + +Tranter hesitated. + +"I suppose she might," he admitted. + +The inspector was looking at him sharply. + +"It is a small point," he said smoothly. "Perhaps you can clear it up." + +There was another pause. Tranter was plainly embarrassed. + +"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." + +"That, sir," returned the inspector firmly, "you must leave to my +discretion." + +"I am content to do so," Tranter said. "The truth is--I had met Miss +Manderson before." + +"Ah!" said the inspector softly. + +"I knew her first nearly six years ago, in Chicago. Her real name was +not Christine Manderson." + +The inspector's eyes began to brighten. He turned to a fresh page in his +note-book. + +"She took that name, she told me to-night, when she went on the stage in +New York. She was really Thea Colville." + +Inspector Fay started. + +"Thea Colville? The Chicago adventuress?" + +"I believe some people called her that," Tranter returned shortly. + +"The woman who ruined Michael Cranbourne, son of Joshua Cranbourne, the +Nitrate King?" + +"She had finished with Cranbourne before I knew her," Tranter replied. +"He was a scoundrel. Whatever happened, she certainly could not be +blamed." + +The inspector was making rapid notes. + +"She was not so wild as she was painted," Tranter continued. "Women with +such beauty as hers have a thousand temptations. The 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." + +He stopped. Emotion had crept into his voice. + +"During the most part of your conversation with her, were you walking +about, or standing still?" + +"Standing still." + +"You have said that you did not hear any one moving about near you while +you were speaking to her?" + +"No." + +"Were there trees or hedges about, where some one might have hidden to +overhear you?" + +"There was a hedge," Tranter replied. "But I did not notice the spot +particularly." + +"You will be able to point it out to me to-morrow." + +"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." + +The inspector closed his note-book. + +"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." + +"It certainly appeared to be unwelcome news to Mrs. Astley-Rolfe," +Tranter replied, "but she very quickly recovered herself." + +"It seemed, in fact, to be a considerable shock to her?" + +"Yes." + +"Were you in the room when this young man, James Layton, burst in?" + +"I was. Monsieur Dupont and I had just arrived." + +"It is true that he said that rather than allow Miss Manderson to +become engaged to Mr. Copplestone, he would tear her to pieces with his +own hands?" + +"Those were his exact words." + +The inspector rose. + +"I understand that you brought Monsieur Dupont here with you as your +friend?" he remarked casually. + +"Yes. He only arrived in London last night." + +"Do you know him well?" + +"Fairly," Tranter replied. "I am under a great obligation to him. He +saved my life in Paris, a year ago." + +"Has he mentioned anything of the business that has brought him to this +country?" the inspector asked, moving to the door. + +"Only that he had come to solve a strange riddle." + +A faint, rather grim smile passed over the inspector's face. + +"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 me the various places you have +referred to in the garden." + +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. + +"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe," the inspector called. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MRS. ASTLEY-ROLFE + + +"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." + +She sat down with a weary movement. Her hands trembled slightly. + +"It is very dreadful," she shuddered. "Such a frightful crime is +inconceivable. Who could have hated the poor girl so dreadfully?" + +"That remains to be discovered," the inspector returned quietly. "I have +no doubt we shall succeed in clearing it up." + +"I hope you will," she said fervently. "Please ask me any questions you +like." + +The inspector kept his eyes fixed on his note-book. + +"You went into the garden with the others after dinner?" + +"Yes." + +"Will you please tell me with whom, and in what part of the garden, you +passed the time before the crime was discovered?" + +"I was alone," she said slowly. + +"The whole time?" + +"Yes. I was not feeling very well, and did not want the trouble of +talking. I walked away by myself." + +"You know the way about the garden quite well?" + +"Quite." + +"In what direction did you walk?" + +"To the croquet lawn." + +"Did you see anything of the others?" + +"No." + +"Or hear any voices?" + +"No." + +"Nothing until the alarm was given?" + +"Nothing. It was an isolated part of the garden. When I heard Mr. +Delamere shouting, I ran back to the house, and found them on the +lawn." + +The inspector shot a keen glance at her. + +"Did you know Miss Manderson well?" + +"I had only met her three or four times." + +"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?" + +"Yes." Her voice was just perceptibly harder. "People were taking great +interest in her." + +"Did you hear her private affairs, and mode of life, discussed at any +time?" + +"No." + +"Or the name of James Layton, the millionaire philanthropist, mentioned +in conjunction with her's?" + +"Never." + +"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?" + +He wrote the address down, and bowed her out. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DANSEUSE + + +"Madame Krashoff," summoned the inspector. + +The danseuse was in a condition of the utmost distress. + +"_Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_" she wept. + +"Please calm yourself, madame," the inspector requested patiently. + +"I ken nothin' o' the creeme!" she sobbed thoughtlessly. + +"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?" + +"Wi' M'soo Gluckstein," she whimpered. + +"All the time?" + +"N-no." + +"How much of the time?" + +She became more collected. + +"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." + +"How long were you away from him?" the inspector asked. + +"_Ma foi_, I cannot tell. Maybe ten minutes." + +"Did you see any one else?" + +"No." + +"In what part of the garden were you when you left him?" + +"Behind the tennis courts." + +"That is some way from the river?" + +"Yes, yes--ver' far away." + +"Thank you, madame." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MR. GLUCKSTEIN + + +The financier was extremely agitated, and tried to shake hands with the +inspector. + +"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." + +"I wath," the financier quivered--"indeed I wath, inthpector." + +"Then she left you for about ten minutes?" + +"Not tho much ath ten minutes," corrected the financier hastily. + +"What did you do after she left you?" + +"I stayed vere I vath--until the rain commenthed." + +"Did you see any one else?" + +"No one at allth." + +"Thank you," said the inspector. "Please leave me your address, in case +I should want to ask you any further questions." + +The financier produced a card with trembling fingers. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CLERGYMAN + + +"Mr. Delamere," said the inspector, "you discovered the body?" + +"I did," replied the clergyman, with a shiver. + +"Were you alone when you found it?" + +"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." + +"Did you meet any one else?" + +"No." + +"You saw nothing of this young man, Layton, who was chased towards the +river by Mr. Bolsover?" + +"Nothing whatever." + +"No sounds of a struggle?" + +"No. I heard nothing." + +"Was the body lying in your path?" + +"No. Some distance aside. I saw something white on the ground in one of +the lightning flashes, and went to see what it was." + +"I shall have to ask you to return here at ten o'clock, to show me the +exact spot." + +"Certainly." + +"Thank you, Mr. Delamere." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MR. BOLSOVER + + +"My God!" exclaimed the manager, "what an appalling business!" + +"It is," the inspector agreed shortly. + +"She was to have appeared at my theater, too," said the manager +ruefully. + +"I understand that you found Layton sneaking about the house?" + +"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." + +"To the river?" + +"Yes. I shouted for Mr. Copplestone, but there was no answer--so I +followed him." + +"You are quite certain it was Layton?" + +"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." + +"Apparently no one saw him in the garden except yourself." + +"Unfortunately not. I met the Frenchman, Monsieur Dupont, a little way +from the river--but he had not seen him." + +"It was a pity you did not manage to catch him," the inspector remarked. + +"Confound it, yes! But it was easy to get away in such a garden as this. +There wasn't a chance of finding him." + +"What did you do, after meeting Monsieur Dupont?" + +"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." + +"Leaving Monsieur Dupont by the river?" + +"Yes. Before I reached the house, I heard Mr. Delamere shouting the +alarm." + +"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." + +"I am entirely at your disposal," said the manager. + +He went out. The inspector sat down at the table, and remained perfectly +still for half an hour. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE TRINITY OF DEATH + + +In Tranter's car, its owner and Monsieur Dupont started, at half-past +one, on their return from the crooked house. + +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. + +"_Dieu!_" he cried, "what a terrible crime! Almost to tear that woman to +pieces--to crush her--to rend her! And what a woman! _Ma foi_, what a +woman!" + +There was a pause. Monsieur Dupont accepted and lit a cigar from +Tranter's case. + +"My friend," he said quietly, "I wish to be quite fair to you." + +"Fair to me?" Tranter echoed, surprised. + +"Something happened to-night which you doubtless believe to be unknown +to every one except yourself." + +Tranter turned to him quickly. + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" Tranter exclaimed. + +"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!" + +"What did you overhear?" asked Tranter, in a strained voice. + +"A conversation--between that unfortunate Mademoiselle Manderson, and +yourself." + +"You heard it?" Tranter cried sharply. + +"I heard it," admitted Monsieur Dupont. "I heard a great part of it. I +believe nearly all. I should not have done so. Understand, I make you +all my apologies. It was improper to listen. But the storm, the +surroundings, the scene itself, excited me. I listened." + +Tranter remained silent. + +"I continued to listen, until Mr. Bolsover found me. He was following +that young man, Layton. I went with him to the river." + +Tranter was still silent--staring straight in front of him with fixed +eyes. + +"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." + +"I shall indeed," the other assured him. + +"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." + +He mastered his emotion. + +"From the moment she first came into the room I was helpless. I knew +what would come 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." + +"Human nature," said Monsieur Dupont consolingly, "is human nature." + +Silence followed. Monsieur Dupont thoughtfully puffed at his cigar. + +"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." + +"It was a crooked evening from beginning to end," Tranter said wearily. + +"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." + +He smoked vigorously for some moments--then made an expansive gesture. + +"Are there not," he demanded, "houses and 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." + +"You are fantastic," said Tranter, with a gloomy smile. + +"In fantasy," returned Monsieur Dupont, "are the world's greatest +truths." + +He carefully deposed the ash from his cigar. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"There are plenty of strange stories about him," Tranter said. "But I +have always looked on them as greatly exaggerated." + +"Probably," Monsieur Dupont remarked, "they were true." + +"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." + +"It is always so," said Monsieur Dupont, "with such men." + +"He mixes chiefly in theatrical and bohemian 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." + +"Most of us are," said Monsieur Dupont. "But we dislike to admit it." + +He looked steadily out of the window for a moment. + +"I wonder," he said, turning back, "what he does with the rest of that +house." + +"The rest of the house?" Tranter repeated. + +"It is very large," said Monsieur Dupont. "It is large enough for twenty +men." + +"In this country," Tranter smiled, "there is no law against one man +living in a house large enough for twenty, if he chooses." + +"When only a small part of a house is used for ordinary purposes," +remarked Monsieur Dupont, "the remainder is often used for extraordinary +ones." + +"You know as much of the house as I do," Tranter returned. + +"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." + +"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." + +"They are bad ones," declared Monsieur Dupont. "They could not be +anything but bad ones. When that excellent Inspector Fay has solved the +mystery of the garden, he would be wise to turn his attention to the +secrets of the house." + +There was a pause. + +"Did Layton kill her?" Tranter asked suddenly. + +Monsieur Dupont shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +"Perhaps so," Tranter acknowledged. "But--he didn't look like a +murderer. He looked a good fellow. Is there no other alternative?" + +"There _is_ an alternative," said Monsieur Dupont steadily. + +"There is?" + +"Yes." + +Monsieur Dupont smoked composedly for a minute. + +"My friend," he said--"are you inclined for an adventure?" + +"I am rather busy," Tranter replied. "What is it?" + +"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?" + +"Certainly. I will do anything I can." + +"Then," said Monsieur Dupont, "I answer the question you asked a moment +ago. He did _not_ kill her." + +"Who did?" Tranter demanded, looking at him in astonishment. + +"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?" + +"I have faced a certain amount of danger in my time," Tranter replied. + +"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." + +"You seem to have some very definite ideas on the subject already," +Tranter observed. + +"Ah, no," demurred Monsieur Dupont--"do not credit me with the +superhuman. We have a very difficult task before us." + +"But what of your other object," Tranter inquired--"the 'riddle' that +you came over to solve?" + +"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 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." + +"You are certainly the most mysterious person I have ever met!" Tranter +exclaimed. + +"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?" + +"I will help you in any case," Tranter agreed, smiling slightly at his +companion's intense seriousness. "What is to be my first task?" + +"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." + +Tranter spoke some instructions through 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. + +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. + +He took out two photographs--each of a remarkably beautiful woman. + +Under one was neatly written-- + +_Colette d'Orsel. Nice. August 1900._ + +And under the other-- + +_Margaret McCall. Boston. Dec. 1910._ + +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. + +He dipped a pen in the ink, and wrote under it, in the same neat +handwriting-- + +_Christine Manderson. London. July 1919._ + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +WITHOUT TRACE + + +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. + +"_Mon Dieu_," Monsieur Dupont whispered quickly. "Look at that man!" + +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. + +"What do you want first?" he asked the inspector curtly. + +"First," replied Inspector Fay, "I want to be shown the spot where the +body was found." + +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. + +"This garden might have been designed for a crime," the inspector +remarked, as they turned yet another corner. + +"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." + +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. + +Copplestone halted, and looked round, measuring distances. Then he moved +on, keeping close to the trees. + +"About here, I think," said the clergyman, pausing. + +Copplestone stopped a few paces ahead. + +"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." + +"There ought to have been some sign left to mark the place when the body +was taken away," the inspector said sharply. + +"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." + +The inspector shot him a rather grim smile. All, except Copplestone, +bent down to look for the sign. + +"Here it is," Tranter exclaimed, pulling a pencil out of the ground. +They stood aside to give the inspector room. + +"The rain has washed away any traces that might have helped us," that +official grumbled, after a fruitless search. + +"And even if it had not," the manager observed, "you would only have +found traces of all of us, as we were all here." + +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. + +"In what position was the body lying?" the inspector asked, looking up +at the clergyman. + +"It was so horribly contorted that it is difficult to say in what +position it _was_ lying," the latter replied, bending down beside him. +"The head, I think, lay towards the river, and the feet towards the +trees." + +"It was so when we came," Copplestone corroborated, without turning his +head. + +"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." + +"It is possible," Monsieur Dupont suggested, "that the body was carried +here from the place where the struggle did take place." + +"Quite possible," the inspector agreed. He turned to Tranter. "Will you +show us now, Mr. Tranter, where you parted from Miss Manderson?" + +"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." + +"Mr. Copplestone will show us," said the inspector. + +Copplestone started at the sound of his own name, and turned to them. + +"What next?" he asked abruptly. + +"The rose arches," returned the inspector. + +Copplestone indicated an opening in the trees, some distance ahead of +them. + +"Over here," he directed, moving towards it. + +There were twelve ornamental arches, overgrown with roses. Monsieur +Dupont looked at the wealth of flowers almost with reverence. + +"So far," he muttered, "the only innocent things I have seen in this +garden." + +Tranter stopped at a point where several paths intersected. + +"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." + +"She should have taken that path," Copplestone said, turning to one in +another direction. "That is the way to the house." + +"Did she know the garden well?" asked the inspector. + +"Perfectly well." + +"Still, she might easily have taken a wrong turning in the darkness." + +"She might. But it is about the straightest path in the garden. I don't +think she would have made a mistake." + +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 face became darker and darker. He +stopped when they turned a corner and found themselves at the house. + +"She could not possibly have got so far as this before the attack was +made," he said discontentedly. + +"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." + +"It seems a curious thing," the clergyman remarked, "that apparently she +did not utter any cry for help." + +"Ah!" said Monsieur Dupont quietly. + +He looked at the clergyman with a new interest. Copplestone also glanced +at him quickly. + +"Even the thunder would hardly have drowned a sharp cry, and some one +would surely have heard it." + +"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." + +Monsieur Dupont drew Tranter aside. + +"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." + +"The key?" Tranter repeated. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"But what do you mean?" asked Tranter. + +Monsieur Dupont's voice sank lower. + +"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 a human +level. It is the silence--the utter, horrible silence--that makes it +what it is. It is the silence----" + +The inspector's voice recalled them. + +"Now, Mr. Bolsover, just whereabouts was Layton when you disturbed him?" + +"He was sneaking round there," the manager replied, pointing to a corner +of the house, "towards the drawing-room windows." + +"Which path did he run to when he saw you?" + +"That one--to the river." + +"Does that path communicate anywhere with the one which we presume Miss +Manderson was following to the house?" + +"Yes," said Copplestone. + +They moved along the path indicated by the manager. It twisted about +unproductively for some distance. + +"How far was he in front of you?" asked the inspector. + +"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." + +They went on. + +"That cursed rain," the inspector muttered. + +"This is the branch that leads to the other path," said Copplestone, +halting. + +"And it was further along there, by that fir tree that I met Monsieur +Dupont," added the manager. + +"That is so," agreed Monsieur Dupont. "Layton certainly did not come +beyond this point in my direction." + +"By taking that branch," the inspector calculated, "he would have met +Miss Manderson just at the time that the crime was committed." + +"He would," said the manager. + +Monsieur Dupont turned again to Tranter. + +"We must be quick," he whispered, "Layton is already hanged." + +"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." + +"And yet," said Monsieur Dupont slowly, "so far as the actual crime is +concerned, there is not a single trace. Not one single trace. Is it not +extraordinary?" + +He doubled his fists. + +"That luck!" he ground out angrily. "Again that luck!" + +"What luck?" Tranter exclaimed. + +"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." + +"What on earth do you mean?" Tranter cried. + +"Hush!" said Monsieur Dupont. + +"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." + +The clergyman and the manager hurried away. Monsieur Dupont lingered at +the inspector's side, and Tranter strolled back with Copplestone. + +"Well?" queried the inspector. "Not much doubt about it, is there?" + +"You have a strong case," said Monsieur Dupont. "Very strong." + +"You agree with it?" + +Monsieur Dupont shrugged his shoulders. + +"At all events, I am not in position, at present, to contradict it." + +"You will have your work cut out to build up another one," said the +inspector complacently. "There isn't a trace." + +"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." + +"What of it?" returned the inspector. + +"It is the key," said Monsieur Dupont. + +He moved on abruptly, and overtook Tranter. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A BUILDER OF MEN + + +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 frayed, and his boots patched--and his income was a thousand +pounds a week. + +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 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. + + * * * * * + +In his bare sitting-room he sat with his face between his hands. A girl +knelt on the floor beside him. + +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. + +"Jim," she pleaded. "Jim...." + +He made no movement. + +"Be a man," she whispered. "Pull yourself together." + +He put her away from him roughly. + +"I wish you'd go," he said dully. "I don't want you here." + +Her face grew whiter. Her hands crept to him again. The light of a great +love was in her eyes. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. 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." + +She sprang up, raging. + +"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!" + +His face was aflame. + +"Stop!" he shouted. + +"I hate her!" she declared fiercely. "I hate her memory! I'm glad she's +dead!" + +He lunged forward from his chair, and seized her. In his fury he nearly +struck her. + +"As God's above us," he panted, "one more word...." His rage choked him. +The words jammed in his throat. + +She wrenched herself free. His arms dropped to his sides. He reeled +dizzily. + +"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." + +He sank back into his chair weakly. A sob shook him. + +"God did not destroy her," he said slowly. "God never destroys. He only +builds. It is men and women who destroy." + +There was a long silence. She came close to him again, all her anger +swallowed up in a great sympathy. + +"Jim," she asked softly ... "was she so much to you?" + +He became suddenly rigid. + +"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?" + +His eyes narrowed threateningly. Her questions had struck him into a new +alertness. She noticed that his knees were pressed together. + +"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?" + +He sat glaring at her--locking and unlocking his hands. + +"It all happened since then," he said jerkily. "I had never seen her +before. There was nothing else." + +"I don't believe it, Jim," she declared. "You are hiding something." + +He avoided her steady gaze. + +"Believe it or not, as you like," he retorted. + +"People say there is some secret in your life," she said. "I believe +there is. And I believe it was her secret too." + +He lunged forward again, in a fresh paroxysm of fury. + +"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?" + +"Jim," she said gently, "I'm not prying. I don't want to know your +secrets. I only wanted to make it lighter for you, if you'd let me." + +"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?" + +"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." + +His anger instantly subsided. + +"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!" + +Her voice thrilled with her love for him. + +"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 green fields and the sunshine--who would +have died." + +"Yes! yes!" he cried. "Go on! Go on! All the children...." + +"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." + +"Yes! yes!" he cried again. "God's work! I am doing God's work!" + +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. + +His quick steps shook the wretched room. The floor creaked under his +tread. A lamp on the table rattled. The girl watched him nervously. 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. + +"Jim!" she cried sharply. + +He started, and stopped, looking at her vacantly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Why haven't you gone?" he said heavily. "I asked you to go." + +"I'm not going, Jim," she returned. "I can't leave you like this. You're +not fit to be left." + +His face darkened again. + +"I am perfectly fit to be left," he said hardly. "And I wish to be +alone." + +"When you are better, I'll go," she said quietly--"if you want me to." + +He made a gesture of impatience. + +"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?" + +The girl's self-control deserted her. She burst into a storm of weeping. + +"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." + +He heard her indifferently. Neither her tears nor her passion moved him. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You were a good girl," he said, with tired 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...." + +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. + +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. + +"Mr. James Layton?" + +He rose unsteadily. + +"Yes," he said, "I am James Layton. What do you want?" + +"We are police officers, investigating the murder of Miss Christine +Manderson." + +The girl uttered a cry, and sprang between them. + +"What do you want with him?" she demanded fiercely. "He knows nothing +about it. How should he? What is it to do with him?" + +The men looked at her with quick interest. But Layton silenced her with +an imperative gesture. + +"I am at your service," he said quietly. "What can I do for you?" + +"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." + +"Certainly," Layton returned, without hesitation. + +His face was perfectly calm. He showed no fear or agitation. + +"We have a taxi waiting," the man said. He spoke to Layton--but he was +looking at the girl. + +"I will come with you at once," Layton replied. + +He took up his hat and stick. The girl leant against the wall panting, a +hand pressed to her heart. + +"Jim," she gasped faintly. "Jim...." + +He turned, with the first sign of kindness he had yet shown to her. + +"Don't be frightened," he said gently. "I shall be back in an hour or +so." + +She clutched him desperately. + +"You sha'n't go!" she cried wildly. "You sha'n't go!" + +He put her aside firmly. + +"Why shouldn't I go? There is nothing to be afraid of. I must help if I +can." + +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. + +"For nothing...." she whispered. "Oh, God ... for nothing...." + +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. + +She struggled to her feet. + +"What do you want?" she murmured fearfully. "Have you come ... for me?" + +The figure squeezed its way through the narrow doorway, and closed the +door. + +"Mademoiselle, you are a friend of Mr. James Layton, who was taken, a +few minutes ago, to Scotland Yard?" + +"Yes," she cried, "yes. I am his friend. What is it?" + +"Before the end of the day, Mr. Layton will be detained on the charge of +murder." + +She screamed. + +"He didn't do it! He didn't do it!" + +"The evidence is strong," said the stranger. "He threatened her. He was +in the garden when the crime was committed----" + +She raised her hand, as if to ward off a blow. + +"In the garden?" she shivered. "He was in the garden ... then?" + +"He will require much assistance," continued the huge unknown--"and +there is no time to lose. Will you help him?" + +"I would die for him," she choked. "What can I do?" + +The stranger re-opened the door. + +"Come with me, mademoiselle," he said softly--"and I will tell you." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A TRIPLE ALLIANCE + + +He led the girl out of the house. At the corner of the street a taxi was +waiting. He opened the door. + +"Where are we going?" she demanded suspiciously. + +"To the Hotel Savoy, mademoiselle," he answered. + +She hung back. + +"Why should I go with you?" she asked defiantly. "I have never seen you +before. I don't know who you are." + +"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." + +She got in without another word. He placed himself beside her, and the +car started. + +"Who are you?" she asked. + +"My name," he told her, "is Dupont--Victorien Dupont. I arrived in +London from Paris a few days ago." + +"What have you to do with this?" she said doubtfully. + +"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." + +She started, staring at him. + +"You were in the garden too?" she cried. + +"I was," he affirmed. "And I know that Monsieur Layton did not kill +her." + +"He didn't!" she declared. "He couldn't kill anything. He spends his +time giving life--not taking it." + +"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?" + +"I told you," she repeated passionately, "I would die for him." + +"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." + +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, and Monsieur +Dupont opened his eyes, she was steady and watchful. + +"Mademoiselle," said Monsieur Dupont softly, "you will be of the +greatest assistance. Already you know the value of silence." + +In his private sitting-room they found Tranter awaiting them. + +"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...." + +"My name's Jenny West," she said, comprehending the request. + +"Where is Layton?" Tranter asked, as Monsieur Dupont placed a chair for +the girl, and sat down himself. + +"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." + +Tears welled up in the girl's eyes, but she checked them with an effort. + +"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?" + +"Yes, yes," the girl cried. "I am ready. I will do anything." + +"And I," said Tranter. + +"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. Those who work with me work much in the dark--but +they reach the light. There must be no hesitation. Is that understood?" + +Again the others agreed. + +"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." + +He turned to the girl. + +"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." + +They were both gazing at him blankly. + +"You know?" the girl gasped. "You know who killed her?" + +The great Frenchman seemed to develop before their eyes into a figure +of tremendous menace, every inch of him alive with implacable, +relentless purpose. + +"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." + +He rose, and took an envelope from his pocket. + +"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." + +He opened the door, and bowed her out. Then he turned to Tranter with a +faint smile. + +"Well, my friend?" he asked quietly. + +"Do you really mean," Tranter exclaimed, "that you know the truth of the +crime?" + +Monsieur Dupont offered him a cigar, and lit one himself with great +composure. + +"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." + +"You are certain that Layton is innocent?" + +"James Layton did not commit the crime," Monsieur Dupont returned +firmly. "But he will be hanged for it--if we are not in time." + +"Well," said Tranter, "what is there for me to do?" + +"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." + +"Good Lord!" Tranter exclaimed, taken aback, "how on earth am I to do +that?" + +"I do not know," Monsieur Dupont admitted. "Nor have I any helpful +suggestions to make. The method of procedure I leave to you." + +"Housebreaking is entirely out of my province," Tranter objected. "And +the secret of that house, if there is one, is likely to be very well +guarded." + +"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." + +Tranter took up his hat and stick, without further protest. + +"Very well," he said stoutly. "I will do my best." + +Monsieur Dupont looked at his watch. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +MR. GLUCKSTEIN IN CONFIDENCE + + +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe invariably received her creditors in pink deshabille. + +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. + +"Ma tear lady," said Mr. Gluckstein, with desperate firmness, "I have +come on an unplethant errand." + +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe pouted petulantly. + +"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 days? Look at +me. I am a nervous wreck." + +"Then all women wouldth with to be nervouth wrecks," said Mr. Gluckstein +gallantly. + +"I believe that odious detective actually imagined at the beginning that +I might have murdered the poor girl." + +"Nonthenth," the financier assured her. + +"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." + +Mr. Gluckstein glanced towards the door, and drew his chair closer to +her. + +"Let us understand each other," he said deliberately. "At the present +time you owe me a large thum of money." + +"Gospel truth," she admitted. + +"Very much more than you could pothibly pay, if I came down on you." + +She uttered a sigh of relief. + +"At last you realize that!" she exclaimed thankfully. + +"Also," continued Mr. Gluckstein, "you owe money to various other +people." + +"Your veracity," she confessed, "is beyond question." + +"Almosth ath much ath you owe to me." + +"Quite as much," she said cheerfully. + +"And you owe me," he continued--"twelve thousand poundth." + +"The first time I have looked the evil fully in the face," she +shuddered. + +His small eyes regarded her intently. + +"The last half of that--I lent to you on a certain understanding." + +"Understanding?" she echoed languidly. + +"Yeth." + +"What did you understand?" + +"That you intended to become engaged to George Copplesthone, who would +pay your debths when you married him." + +A quick change swept over her. She became hard and calculating. + +"Well?" she returned. + +"You have not become engaged to him." + +"No." + +"Some one elth became engaged to him." + +"Yes," she said calmly. + +"That doth not look," he concluded, "like fulfillment of the +understanding." + +"Doesn't it?" she retorted. + +He glanced again at the door, and came still closer. + +"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." + +She softened immediately. + +"You have been very kind to me," she said gratefully. + +"You muth be my friendth too. I muth tell you my thecret. Promith me +faithfully that you will keep it." + +She looked at him in astonishment. + +"Certainly I will keep it," she agreed. + +"Five days ago," Mr. Gluckstein informed her painfully, "my partner +abthconded, and left me almosth a ruined man." + +Her face expressed genuine sympathy. + +"I am very sorry," she said feelingly. "What a dreadful blow for you." + +"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." + +"Two months?" she exclaimed blankly. + +"Two months," he repeatedly firmly. "That ith the utmost time I can give +you. Have you any other means of raithing the money?" + +"Not a ghost of one," she replied frankly. "I might as well try to push +over the Marble Arch as raise a single thousand." + +"Then," he said steadily, "if you do not marry Copplesthone I am a +bankrupt--and a bankrupt I will not be." + +"I shall marry him," she said. "I told you I should--and I shall. You +will have your money." + +"I believed you," he returned. "But another woman beat you." + +She looked away from him. + +"Did she?" she replied evenly. + +There was silence for a moment. + +"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." + +"The obstacle was removed," she said, in the same even tone. + +He shuddered. + +"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." + +"Yes," she agreed slowly--"it was to our advantage." + +"There must not be another obstacle," he said. + +"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." + +He looked round the luxurious room, and sighed deeply. It surprised her +that she had not noticed before how much he had aged. + +"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." + +"You have been a good friend to me," she said gently. "I am very sorry." + +He paused to finish his drink, but his crafty eyes never left her face. +She did not meet them. + +"I wonder," he said, in a slightly lower tone, replacing his empty glass +on the table, "what the police will discover." + +"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." + +"It ought to be enough," he admitted, more easily. "What more could they +want?" + +"The evidence is very strong," she said, lazily settling her deshabille. +"Many people have been hanged on less. Apparently the police are +satisfied. At least, they have not arrested either of us." + +The financier started violently. + +"Either of uth?" he cried, aghast. "What do you mean, either of uth?" + +Her smile was enigmatical. + +"As you said just now--the removal of the obstacle was to the advantage +of both of us." + +"But they don't know," he shivered. "They can't know." + +"I hope not," she said shortly. + +Perspiration began to stand out on his forehead. He had lost color +considerably. + +"You promised to keep my thecret," he exclaimed nervously. "Noth a word +to any one." + +"I shall keep my promise," she replied. + +"There is no cause for alarm. I don't think Inspector Fay will trouble +us." + +There was a tap at the door. They turned as the butler entered. + +"Inspector Fay would like to see you for a few minutes, madam." + +They looked at each other. The financier was agitated. The woman was +perfectly calm. + +"Talk of the devil!" she smiled. + +Mr. Gluckstein gripped his hat, stick, and gloves, and rose hurriedly. + +"He must not see me here," he said jerkily. "Let me out another way." + +"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." + +The financier did not wait to shake hands. + +"Remember," he whispered passing her--"both your promises." + +"They will be kept," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE WIT OF THE PINK LADY + + +Inspector Fay entered the room at one end a few seconds after Mr. +Gluckstein left it at the other. + +Mrs. Astley-Rolfe greeted him in a friendly fashion. She showed +considerable strain--but, otherwise, was looking her best. And her best +was delightful. + +"Good morning, inspector," she said languidly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"It was certainly a most disgusting crime," the inspector agreed. + +"I suppose it was James Layton?" + +"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." + +"I hope you will," she declared fervently. "Such a brutal criminal can +expect no mercy." + +"In the meantime," continued the inspector, "I should be much obliged if +you would kindly give me a little information." + +"Certainly," she said readily. "Sit down." + +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. + +"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." + +"I quite understand," she assured him. "What do you want to know?" + +"I want to know what you were saying to Mr. Copplestone in the garden, +before Mr. Tranter came to tell him that Miss Manderson had gone into +the house." + +She started. + +"I?" she exclaimed. "I was not with Mr. Copplestone." + +He remained silent. + +"I told you, I was not with any one. I did not feel quite myself, and +strolled about alone." + +The inspector's face was quite impassive. + +"You wish me to accept that answer?" he asked quietly. + +She stiffened haughtily. + +"What do you mean?" she said sharply. + +"I mean that you wish that answer to be accepted as the truth?" + +"Of course. Are you suggesting that it is not?" + +"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." + +"Serious consequences?" she echoed, startled. + +"Yes." + +"For whom?" + +"Possibly for Mr. Copplestone himself." + +Signs of uneasiness began to appear, in spite of her wonderful +self-control. + +"For Mr. Copplestone...?" + +"For Mr. Copplestone," the inspector affirmed steadily. + +"I don't understand," she said. "Will you kindly explain?" + +"Certainly." His voice dropped slightly. "Mr. Copplestone lied to me." + +"Lied to you?" + +"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." + +"You had better ask him," she retorted. "I do not know." + +"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 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." + +"How do you know?" she asked quickly. + +"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." + +"Is it not very trivial?" she said. + +"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." + +She was silent. Her hands moved nervously. + +"What is the use of telling me this?" she asked. + +"It occurred to me," he replied, "that you might be able to extricate +him from that position." + +"Why?" she demanded resentfully. + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Can you?" he insisted, watching her closely. + +For a moment she paused. There was malevolence in her gaze. + +"I do not know what he was doing," she said obstinately. + +"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?" + +She turned on him. + +"In the dock? What do you mean?" + +"Would it still be the same answer?" he repeated sternly. + +"Do you suggest that he may have committed the crime?" she exclaimed +contemptuously. "Its absurd!" + +"I told you," he said, "I suggest nothing. My case must be complete. I +want to know the truth." + +Silence followed. She plucked angrily at the lace edge of her gown. +Inspector Fay waited imperturbably. + +"He was with me," she said, at last, sullenly. + +"Thank you," said the inspector. + +There was another pause. + +"Please go on," he pressed her. + +She did not attempt to conceal her resentment at his insistence. But the +inspector's attitude was compelling. + +"We had a private conversation," she said viciously. "What passed +between us concerned only ourselves." + +"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." + +"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 we had spoken to each +other at all. I hope you have nothing more to ask me." + +The inspector rose. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +DETAINED ON SUSPICION + + +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. + +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. + +"Mr. James Layton?" the inspector began, seating himself at a table. + +"Yes." + +"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 answer the questions I have to ask you as +clearly as possible." + +"Certainly," the young man replied, unhesitatingly. + +"To begin with--did you go to Richmond on that night?" + +"I did." + +"Were you alone?" + +"I was." + +"Did you call at Mr. Copplestone's house at half-past eight?" + +"Yes." + +"You asked to see Mr. Copplestone?" + +"Yes." + +"And he refused to see you?" + +"He did." + +"What was your object in calling on him, in that manner, at such an +inconvenient time?" + +"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." + +"That you would prevent the marriage?" + +"Yes." + +"Because, in your opinion, he was unworthy of her?" + +"Totally." + +"Had you any right to take upon yourself the control of Miss Manderson's +choice of a husband?" + +"No right, perhaps--as you use the term." + +"As any one would use it?" + +"To my mind, yes." + +"To your mind you had a right to interfere in that engagement?" + +"Yes." + +"We will come back to that presently," the inspector proceeded. "What +did you do when Mr. Copplestone refused to see you?" + +"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." + +"You knew, then, that she was in the house at the time?" + +"Yes. I had previously telephoned to her hotel, and her maid had told me +that she was spending the evening at Copplestone's house." + +"I am told you burst into the room uttering her name." + +"Possibly." + +"But you found only some guests of Mr. Copplestone's, who had been +invited to dinner?" + +"Yes." + +"Was there anything strange about the room?" + +"It was decorated in an extraordinary manner." + +"I think you made some remark about the decorations?" + +"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." + +"Do you remember saying anything else in the room?" + +"I said that rather than allow Miss Manderson to be engaged to George +Copplestone, I would tear her to pieces with my own hands." + +"And utterly destroy her?" + +"Yes." + +"A somewhat violent announcement," the inspector observed. + +"I am afraid it was." + +"You were in a state of great excitement, were you not?" + +"I was very excited." + +"Almost beside yourself?" + +"I cannot say that." + +"Were you responsible for your words and actions at the time?" + +"Perfectly." + +"You really meant what you said?" + +"I meant what I said," the young man declared calmly. + +The inspector was writing rapidly. + +"You were then requested to leave the house, and I think you left quite +quietly?" + +"Yes." + +"What did you do then?" + +"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." + +"You were behaving rather strangely, were you not, Mr. Layton?" the +inspector asked. + +"I suppose I was." + +"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?" + +"I expect I should." + +"Yet you say you were quite yourself?" + +"I was quite myself." + +"And prepared to carry out your threat?" + +"I do not know what I was prepared to do. I did not carry it out." + +"Later on, one of the guests, Mr. Bolsover, found you creeping round the +house towards an open window?" + +"Yes." + +"Before he ran after you, do you remember hearing him call to Mr. +Copplestone?" + +"Yes, he did." + +"Was there any answer?" + +"I did not hear one." + +"Mr. Bolsover then followed you out in the direction in which the crime +was committed?" + +"I do not know where the crime was committed," Layton replied firmly. +"I know nothing of the crime." + +"Whoever committed it managed to fulfill your own threat fairly fully." + +"Unfortunately, yes." + +"Have you any suggestion to make as to who that person may have been?" + +"No." + +"What, then, did you do when Mr. Bolsover ran after you?" + +"I eluded him in the darkness, climbed over the wall again, and went +away." + +"Without having fulfilled your object?" + +"Yes." + +"Had you seen anything at all of Miss Manderson, or Mr. Copplestone?" + +"Nothing." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I did." + +"What had given you that right?" + +"I am sorry," the young man returned courteously--"but I decline to +answer that question." + +"When and where did you first meet her?" + +"I cannot tell you." + +"You would be wiser to do so." + +"Possibly." + +The inspector's face darkened. + +"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." + +"I am afraid," Layton remarked quietly, "that you have already made up +your mind that I am guilty of the crime." + +"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." + +"I realize that," the young man said. "But I still refuse." + +Inspector Fay leant back in his chair patiently. + +"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." + +"I should be sorry to cause you any additional trouble," Layton replied. +"But I have my reasons." + +"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?" + +There was no answer. + +"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." + +Layton was still silent. The inspector continued easily. + +"I am wondering whether a cable across the 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." + +James Layton stiffened in his chair. He had become white and tense. + +"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." + +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. + +"Yes," he said quietly, "I am Michael Cranbourne. I might have admitted +it at first. What do you want now?" + +"The whole story," the inspector replied, motioning him back to his +chair. + +"I will tell you," he said. + +He sat down again. A great contentment seemed to rest upon him, as on +one who reaches the end of a difficult and tiring journey. There was a +long pause. + +"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." + +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. + +"My family warned me, and threatened me. I knew they were telling me the +truth--but I 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." + +There was another pause. He sat rigid. The inspector waited patiently. + +"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." + +"Apparently," the inspector remarked, not unsympathetically, "her +standard of morality was on a somewhat similar level." + +"She is dead," said the young man gently. "'_De mortuis nil nisi +bonum._'" + +The inspector shrugged his shoulders. + +"As you please," he said. "Go on." + +"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." + +His face was transformed. His voice rang with triumph--with the pride of +victory. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +His voice broke. He pressed his thin hands together. + +"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, 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." + +Again he paused. The inspector made no comment. + +"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----" + +"Why?" the inspector asked + +"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." + +The inspector rose. + +"Mr. Cranbourne," he said formally, "after 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." + +The young man heard him without a tremor. + +"I did not kill her," he said firmly. "God's will be done." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE BIRTH OF THE KILLER + + +Monsieur Dupont was one of those fortunate individuals who can sleep in +a train. + +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. + +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. + +It was a lovely spot, nestling in primeval 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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Doctor Lessing, if you please, madame," said Monsieur Dupont. + +He was shown into a small library, opening on to the garden. The room +was flooded with sunshine. There were flowers everywhere. + +"_Mon Dieu_," said Monsieur Dupont, aloud, "that I should come to ask +such questions here." + +He turned as the door opened, and bowed before a sturdy, white-haired +old man, bronzed with the health of the country. + +"Monsieur Dupont?" said the doctor. "What can I do for you?" + +Monsieur Dupont took a letter from his pocket, and unfolded it. + +"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." + +Doctor Lessing read the letter, and returned it. + +"I shall be happy to assist you in any way I can," he said, courteously. +"Please sit down." + +Monsieur Dupont sat down by the open windows and drank in the fragrance +of the garden. + +"Doctor Lessing," he began, "I believe it is for a long time that you +have lived in this beautiful place?" + +"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?" + +"A period," Monsieur Dupont replied, "nearly forty years ago. I do not +know exactly." + +"A long stretch," said Doctor Lessing ruefully. "But my memory shall do +its best for you. That is all I can promise." + +"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." + +"A pleasant one, I trust," said the doctor. + +"As much to the contrary as it is possible to imagine." + +The doctor murmured a regret and waited for his huge visitor to +continue. + +"Do you," Monsieur Dupont inquired, "recollect the name of Winslowe?" + +Doctor Lessing started slightly. + +"Winslowe?" + +"Oscar Winslowe." + +A keen glance flashed from the doctor's eyes. + +"Yes," he said quickly, "I recollect the name." + +"He lived, I think in this village at the time I have said?" + +"Yes." The reply was a trifle curt. + +"Perhaps," Monsieur Dupont proceeded evenly, "there were circumstances +in connection with that name which helped to fix it in your memory?" + +"There were certain circumstances," the doctor admitted, "which made it +a name that I am unlikely to forget." + +"Unpleasant circumstances?" queried Monsieur Dupont. + +"The most unpleasant that have ever occurred to me in the whole length +of my practice." + +"It is for that story," said Monsieur Dupont, "that I have come to ask. +May I beg all the details that you can recall?" + +"Perhaps you will first tell me," the doctor returned, "for what purpose +you require this information?" + +"I require it," Monsieur Dupont replied impressively, "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." + +Again the doctor started. His hands gripped the arms of his chair. + +"Three deaths?" he exclaimed sharply. "What do you mean?" + +"Three deaths," repeated Monsieur Dupont. "Of three very beautiful +women." + +The doctor sprang to his feet. + +"My God!" he cried hoarsely. + +"Will you tell me the story?" said Monsieur Dupont. + +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. + +"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 of time. Look out of the window +to the left, and you will see a large red house, on the slope of the +hill." + +"I see it," said Monsieur Dupont, following the direction. + +"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." + +"That is what I want," said Monsieur Dupont. "Her entry into +motherhood." + +"The more I saw of her," continued the doctor, "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." + +"Ah!" said Monsieur Dupont eagerly. + +"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." + +In spite of the years that had passed the doctor's voice still rose in +anger. He paused, checking himself. + +"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 the most terrible thing I +have ever seen. She had to be forcibly restrained." + +Monsieur Dupont listened intently. There was an expression of triumph on +his face. + +"A pitiful story," he said softly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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, the +nurse took the child away with her, and I have not seen her since." + +He made a relieved gesture. + +"That is the whole story," he said. + +"The nurse," inquired Monsieur Dupont, "what was her name?" + +"Masters. Miss Elizabeth Masters." + +"Is she still alive?" + +"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." + +"Can you assist me to discover her address?" + +"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." + +He left the room. Monsieur Dupont turned to the window, and gazed +dreamily out into the sunshine. + +"And so," he muttered--"in this corner of paradise the Destroyer was +born." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A HASTY FLIGHT + + +Doctor Lessing re-entered the room with a letter in his hand. + +"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." + +Monsieur Dupont made a note of the address. + +"There remains only one question," he said, replacing his pocket-book. +"Can you tell me the name of the child?" + +The doctor shook his head. + +"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." + +"It is very important," said Monsieur Dupont. "Perhaps I can discover +it at the church?" + +"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." + +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. + +He slept peacefully until the train reached Paddington. + +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. + +"They have charged him," she sobbed. "He is remanded for a week." + +He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. + +"Do not be afraid," he said. "He will be saved. I have given my +word--the word of Dupont--that he will be saved." + +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. + +"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." + +He bowed her out of the room. Half an hour later, he was on his way to +Streatham. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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 the carefully kept front garden, and +knocked at the door. + +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. + +The name of the house was "Sans Souci," and the door was opened by a +lady in rich purple, with a string of pearls. + +Monsieur Dupont swept off his hat. + +"Madame, I make a thousand apologies! Can you tell me when I shall find +Miss Masters at home." + +His extreme bulk and the fact that he was not an Englishman seemed to +cause the lady considerable amusement. + +"I'm sure I don't know," she said engagingly. "I think she's gone away." + +"Away?" Monsieur Dupont echoed. + +"She left in a great hurry two hours ago," the lady informed him. "In a +motor." + +Monsieur Dupont appeared somewhat staggered. + +"Two hours ago...." he muttered. + +"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." + +"It is most unfortunate," said Monsieur Dupont mildly. "I have come all +the way from the Strand to see her." + +The lady laughed freely. + +"I'm very sorry," she said good-naturedly. "Won't you come in and rest a +bit?" + +"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?" + +"What are they?" she asked. + +"Will you tell me if any particular person was in the habit of visiting +Miss Masters?" + +The lady stiffened slightly. + +"Are you a friend of Miss Masters?" she inquired, shortly. + +"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." + +"I really cannot answer any questions to a stranger," said the lady +stiffly. "I don't know you." + +Monsieur Dupont bowed. + +"If you did, madame," he said, "I should be the proudest of men. Do me +the favor to read this letter." + +He produced the letter from the French Embassy, and handed it to her. +She read it, and was duly impressed. + +"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 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." + +Monsieur Dupont bowed again. + +"Obviously, madame," he said. + +"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." + +"And this man, madame--what was he like?" + +"He was rather tall," she said, "and had a dark moustache. He was always +well dressed, and looked quite a gentleman." + +"You heard his name?" + +"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." + +"_Mon Dieu_," said Monsieur Dupont. + +"We had a bit of a row," said the lady candidly. + +"Does she live alone, madame?" + +"Yes, quite alone. She does everything for herself." + +"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?" + +She started, looking at him curiously. + +"Strange things?" she repeated slowly. + +"Perhaps--violent things." + +"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." + +"What kind of noises, madame?" + +"Like as it might be heavy things being thrown about and smashed," said +the lady elegantly. + +Monsieur Dupont swept off his hat again. + +"Thank you, madame," he said--and went back to his car. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +TRANTER ATTACKS THE CROOKED HOUSE + + +In the evening, Tranter set off to the Crooked House. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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 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. + +Still he waited. Another twenty minutes slowly passed. + +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. + +A moment later, a voice--a man's voice, horribly strained and +unnatural--rose in a shout of fury. + +"Damn you!" it screamed. "Look at your work! Look at it again! Open your +rotten eyes and look! Look! Look!" + +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. + +"Are you satisfied? The thing is creeping 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!" + +The words trailed off into a sob of agony. Still Tranter could hear no +reply. + +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. + +"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...." + +It was a cry of unspeakable anguish--the prayer of a soul in torment. It +seemed to Tranter that the speaker had thrown himself down, and was +beating the floor with his hands. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A DUEL + + +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. + +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. + +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 at her with a forbidding frown, and did not +move from his chair. + +"Well?" he said curtly. + +She waved a hand round the black room. + +"Isn't this ... a trifle theatrical?" she asked coolly. + +He said nothing. She sat down opposite to him uninvited. She was +perfectly self-possessed. + +"Inspector Fay was kind enough to call on me this morning," she remarked +pleasantly. + +Again there was no reply. + +"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." + +He scowled at her. + +"Have you come to tell me that?" he asked rudely. + +"That--and other things," she returned unruffled. + +"I don't want to hear them," he retorted. + +"They concern you," she said--"rather closely." + +"I don't want to hear them," he repeated. + +Her lips tightened. + +"It is scarcely pleasant to be such an obviously unwelcome visitor," she +said evenly. "But I am afraid you must listen." + +"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?" + +"If I had let you be," she replied easily, "Inspector Fay would probably +be here in my place--with much less pleasant intentions." + +His glance sharpened. + +"What do you mean?" he growled. + +"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." + +Uneasiness flashed across his face. She smiled slightly. + +"And I am afraid, my friend, that you are a clumsy liar." + +"I don't know what you are talking about," he snapped. + +"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." + +He sat upright with a jerk, flamed with passion. + +"What the devil is it to do with you?" he demanded fiercely. + +"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?" + +His lethargy had disappeared. He leant forward, staring at her, his +hands clutching the arms of his chair. + +"But, unfortunately, you did not take the elementary precaution of +having a full case to support the story. In nine times out of ten you +would have got away with it. This was the tenth." + +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. + +She went on, with delightful smoothness. + +"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." + +He ground out an oath under his breath. + +"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." + +"To you...." he muttered. + +"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 '_une petite +scène de jalousie_.' 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." + +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 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Well...?" she said steadily. + +There was no answer. She bent towards him. + +"I said you were with me. You were not with me. Where were you?" + +The man breathed heavily, his baleful gaze fixed on her. She met it +with unassailable composure. + +"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?" + +He sprang up, and stood over her with clenched hands, his face torn with +fury. + +"Damn you!" he cried hoarsely. "What is my house, or what happens in it, +to you?" + +"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." + +He obeyed, muttering. Her calmness disarmed him. + +"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." + +He had resumed his chair. There was a moment's pause. + +"You were foolish to mock me," she went on. + +"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." + +A faint, sneering smile passed over his face. Her voice hardened. + +"I am not a woman to defy--and I am still less a woman to mock. You are +going to keep your promises." + +"I'll see you in hell first!" he retorted brutally. + +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." + +He made a slow gesture round the black room. + +"You come to me now ... within a few hours...." + +"Why not?" she returned hardly. + +"Almost before her body is cold...." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"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." + +"Passed," he muttered. "Passed...." + +"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." + +"Or else?" he snarled. + +"Or else, if you prefer it, I will exchange your promises for the +secrets of this house--with no undertaking to keep them." + +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, +and waited with unassailable self-possession. The silence was long. + +"How much do you want?" he demanded, at last. + +"I am not asking you for money," she replied coldly. + +"I am offering it unasked," he retorted. "How much do you want?" + +"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." + +"Put it all in the bill," he said coarsely. + +"Therefore I will give you nothing back. You shall have only your bond." + +"Why waste your breath on heroics to me?" he sneered. "You would sell +your soul for money. You have often boasted it." + +"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." + +"Bosh!" he said contemptuously. "Pride pays no bills--and you owe too +many to let it deprive you of the pleasure of getting rid of a few." + +"That is as it may be," she returned. "I have told you the only exchange +I will make." + +He sprang up again. This time his anger was scornful. + +"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." + +"Plenty," she said, unmoved. + +"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." + +"Again you throw her in my face," she murmured, through closed teeth. + +"I daresay I used you meanly," he acknowledged. "I _did_ use you meanly. +It was not the game to do what I did that night. I freely 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"You dare," she said slowly, "to offer _me_ five thousand pounds?" + +"And consider yourself damned lucky!" he retorted. + +He took out his case, and lit a cigarette with a show of indifference. + +"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." + +She rose. + +"You insult me again," she said, in measured tones. "You are not wise." + +He laughed easily. + +"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 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." + +"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?" + +"You know nothing of my house," he returned. "You do not know whether +there are secrets in it or not." + +"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." + +He was silent, looking at her thoughtfully, as if carefully weighing his +course of action. + +"You were under the suspicion of Scotland 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." + +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. + +"So," he said, after a pause, "you would put them on to me again...?" + +"I need not have taken them off you," she replied. + +"I have offered you five thousand pounds for that," he said slowly. + +"I have refused them." + +"Think over it well," he advised her impressively. + +"I do not need to," she returned. + +For a moment they faced each other steadily. + +"You mean that--finally?" he asked. + +"Finally," she answered. + +He moved to a door at the further end of the room, and opened it. + +"Come," he said quietly. "You have gone too far to draw back. You shall +see the secrets of my house. Follow me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE SECRET OF THE HOUSE + + +She followed him out of the black room into a dark, narrow passage. + +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 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. + +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 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. + +"What a parable of waste!" she said. + +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. + +"Go in," he said curtly. + +She hesitated, for the first time. He withdrew the key, and returned it +to his pocket. + +"You need not be afraid," he said. + +"I will follow you," she returned, watching him carefully. + +He shrugged his shoulders again, and went into the room. She entered +after him. + +It was a long, low room. There was a 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. + +She shrank back with a startled exclamation, and turned to Copplestone. +His face was convulsed with fury, his eyes aflame with hatred. + +"Well?" he said harshly. + +She drew away from him fearfully. + +"What wickedness is this?" she shuddered. + +"None of mine," he answered. + +The vacant eyes rested on them with a fixed stare, completely devoid of +intelligence. The huddled figure evinced no sign of life. It appeared +to be unconscious of their presence. Copplestone advanced a few paces; +but the woman hung back, horrified. + +"Is that ... a living thing?" she whispered. + +He laughed--an unnatural, metallic laugh. + +"Yes," he said--"it's living ... with as much life as its sins have left +it, and its rotten body can hold." + +He turned back to her. + +"Come nearer," he said. "There is nothing to be afraid of." + +But the glassy stare of the motionless figure had unnerved her. She was +white, and shaking. + +"No, no," she muttered, shrinking further back. + +He seized her arm. + +"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." + +He dragged her with him towards the corner. + +"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." + +She stood silent, her head turned away. He went on, with increasing +rage. + +"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 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." + +She put her hands up to her face. + +"Can he hear you?" she gasped. + +"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!" + +She tried to draw him back. + +"Come away," she cried. "How can you stand in front of the poor +creature, and talk like that before his face?" + +His iron grip closed on her wrist, and held her helpless. + +"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." + +"To you?" she echoed. + +"To me," he repeated. + +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. + +"Let me go," she cried. "It's too dreadful." + +He dragged her round again. + +"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." + +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 malignantly on the grinning +object of his hatred. + +"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." + +His voice rose. His face began to work with passion. + +"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 heart, and she died ... +mad. If only she had died a little sooner...." + +She steadied herself with an effort. + +"Who is he?" she asked. "Why is he here, in your house?" + +A flood of fury shook him. + +"His name is Oscar Winslowe," he said fiercely. "He is my father." + +She uttered a sharp cry, and wrenched her hand away from him. + +"Your father? That creature ... your father...." + +"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." + +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. + +"Pity me," he said. "Oh, if you are capable of pitying anything in this +dreadful world, 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." + +His agony was pitiful. He sobbed, wringing his hands. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +He looked at her fixedly. + +"Well?" he asked bitterly. "You know the secrets of my house. Are you +satisfied?" + +She laid a hand on his arm, and turned him gently towards the door. +There were tears in her eyes. + +"Come away," she said weakly. "Let us speak somewhere else." + +He followed her. They went out, without another look at the figure +behind them, and returned in silence to the black room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +TRUER COLORS + + +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. + +"Forgive me," she said gently. "I would not have said what I did if I +had even thought ... of that." + +He looked down at her, a world of agony in his tortured eyes. + +"Well," he asked--"do you still want to marry me ... now?" + +For an instant the old hardness flashed back. + +"You would have married _her_," she returned. + +"I wonder," he said slowly. "I wonder ... if I should." + +His gaze wandered vacantly round the room. + +"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...." + +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. + +"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." + +She made no attempt to check her tears. He took her hand, as gently as a +child. + +"Don't cry," he begged. "See--I am all right now. Sit down, and let us +talk." + +Still leaning on her, he moved to a couch, and drew her down beside him. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 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...." + +He stared straight out in front of him, a figure of unutterable +pathos--a helpless accuser of Eternal Laws. + +"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." + +He looked at her in surprise, as if noticing the alteration in her for +the first time. + +"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?" + +She was silent. She bent her head, as if ashamed of betraying herself. + +"Was all that hardness ... only a cloak ... to hide yourself?" + +He seized her hand tightly. + +"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." + +"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 five hundred +per cent. out of her income." + +"What does it matter," he returned, "if she can get five hundred per +cent. out of life?" + +He still held her hand, his eyes fixed longingly on her face. + +"If only I were not mad," he said, with all his sadness--"now I know +that you are really a woman...." + +"Let me go," she said brokenly, withdrawing her hand from his. + +"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." + +He took his check book from his pocket. + +"No, no," she said quickly--"not that." + +"Please," he insisted. + +"I would have taken it before," she said, forcing back her tears. "But +not now." + +"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?" + +She sprang up. + +"For God's sake," she cried, "don't say that! I can't bear it!" + +He laid a hand again on her shoulder. + +"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?" + +"I do care!" she cried recklessly. "I care--and care--and care. My God, +how I care!" + +He turned his face upwards, and over it passed a dreadful, mocking +smile. + +"O God of Mercy!" he muttered--"another torment!" + +He drew away from her. + +"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." + +He left her sobbing, and went to his writing table. + +"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." + +He wrote the check, and rose. + +"Wait for me here," he said. "I shall only be a few minutes." And he +went out with the face of a stricken man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +PROVIDING FOR THE WORST + + +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. + +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 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +He greeted her kindly. He was cheerful and composed. He showed that he +was glad to see her. + +"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!" + +"God will save His workman," he returned quietly--"if it is His will." + +He looked at her closely. And something very like affection came into +his face. + +"You are pale," he said. "You are over strained. You haven't slept." + +She bent her head, to hide her brimming eyes. + +"My child...." he said gently. + +"What does it matter," she sobbed, "if I haven't slept? How can I +sleep--when you are ... here?" + +"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 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." + +"You shall not!" she cried passionately. "If there is justice in heaven +or earth, you shall not!" + +"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." + +A spark of his old fanaticism flashed into his eyes for a moment, then +faded. + +"I shall be ready," he said steadily, "for whatever He sends." + +"Men shall not find you guilty," she declared. "There are three people +working for you. The truth will be discovered." + +"Your mysterious Frenchman?" he smiled. "What has he done?" + +"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." + +A frown darkened Layton's face. + +"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?" + +"I know nothing whatever about him," she replied. "But there is +something that makes me trust him. I believe he will keep his promise." + +"I don't like it," he insisted. + +"If I didn't help him," she said, "I could do nothing. And I should go +mad." + +"What has he given you to do?" he asked. + +"I promised not to tell any one," she hesitated. + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"You had better tell me. You have no one else to protect you." + +"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 _Directory_, 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." + +Layton stared at her in astonishment. + +"What possible connection can that have with the case?" he exclaimed. + +"I don't know," she said again. "I've tried to think." + +"The French Embassy," he mused. "That is strange...." + +He checked himself, and looked at his watch. + +"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." + +He kept her silent with a firm gesture. + +"My work must go on. No matter what 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." + +The fires kindled again. His face was lit up. + +"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 that if the worst happens, +you will go on where I leave off." + +Tears blinded her. She could not speak. + +"Promise," he insisted. + +"I will," she sobbed. "I will go on--as long as I can live after you." + +He stood still, looking at her fixedly. There was the dawn of an +awakening on his face. + +"My God!" he whispered, "I was wrong. I do cling to life. I want to +live. O God, save me!" + +And the girl uttered a great sigh of thankfulness, and fell fainting +against the wire partition that stood between them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE DISAPPEARANCE OF TRANTER + + +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. + +The answer to his first question stiffened him into an attitude of rigid +tensity. + +"Mr. Tranter is not in, sir," a voice told him. "He has disappeared." + +"Disappeared?" Monsieur Dupont echoed sharply. + +"We do not know what has happened to him. He went out last night at nine +o'clock, and has not returned." + +"Not returned...." the listener muttered. + +"We are getting anxious," the voice went 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?" + +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. + +"Yes," he said slowly, "I know where he was going." + +He rose quickly. + +"I will find him," he promised and rang off. + +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. + +"_Dieu_," he whispered--"that Crooked House...." + +He seized his hat and stick, and hurried out to his car. + + * * * * * + +Remarkable changes were in progress when 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. + +"_Mon Dieu_," he exclaimed aloud, "they are making it a human garden!" + +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 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. + +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. + +"Mr. Copplestone?" said Monsieur Dupont. + +"Mr. Copplestone is away, sir." + +"Away...?" + +"He left in the car early this morning, sir, without saying where he was +going or when he would be back." + +Monsieur Dupont was plainly staggered. + +"Was he alone?" + +"I do not know, sir." + +"You do not know?" + +"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." + +Monsieur Dupont took a threatening step towards him. + +"Where is Mr. Tranter?" he demanded, with sudden fierceness. + +The man met his challenging gaze steadily. + +"Mr. Tranter, sir?" + +"Mr. Tranter came here last night--between ten and eleven o'clock." + +"I think you must be mistaken, sir. If he had come here, I should have +seen him." + +Monsieur Dupont clenched his fists. + +"I am not mistaken! I say that he came here last night!" + +"I did not see him, sir." + +"Since then he has disappeared. He has not returned to his house, and +nothing has been heard of him. Where is he?" + +"I know nothing of Mr. Tranter, sir." + +"That is not true!" Monsieur Dupont almost shouted. + +"Sir!" + +"I say that is not true!" + +The man drew himself up. + +"It certainly is true, sir." + +"It is not! Will you tell the truth to me--or to the police?" + +"I have nothing to tell," the man insisted doggedly. + +Monsieur Dupont appeared to be beside himself. + +"_Dieu!_" he cried, "if any harm has come to Mr. Tranter, you shall pay +for it--all of you!" + +The man shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +"He said that?" Monsieur Dupont exclaimed, his anger giving place to +astonishment. + +"Yes, sir." + +Monsieur Dupont turned away without another word, and walked slowly to +the gates. Reaching them, he stopped, and looked back. + +"In the name of heaven," he muttered, "what happened in that house last +night?" + +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. + +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. + +"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe, if you please," he said to the footman who answered +his summons. + +"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe is not at home, sir." + +"It is most important," said Monsieur Dupont. "I wished to speak to her +of a matter connected with Mr. George Copplestone." + +"She went away early this morning, sir." + +"Away?" Monsieur Dupont repeated. + +"With Mr. Copplestone." + +Monsieur Dupont started back. + +"With Mr. Copplestone?" + +"Yes, sir. Just before eight o'clock." + +"With Mr. Copplestone...." + +"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." + +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. + +"_Mille diables!_" he murmured, "what does it mean...." + +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. + +There was a telegram on the table. He opened it, and read: + + "The name was George Copplestone Winslowe, + LESSING." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +IN PURSUIT + + +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. + +"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "you know me well enough to be sure +that I would not mislead you?" + +There was that in the look of him that caused the smile to fade from the +inspector's face. + +"Of course," he replied, laying down his papers. + +"There is not a moment to lose. You must come with me." + +"Come with you?" + +"Now--immediately." + +"But where?" + +"Wherever it may be necessary to go. I do not yet know myself. I only +know that we must go." + +"Impossible," the inspector declared. "I must be ready for the inquest." + +"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!" + +"What for?" demanded the inspector sharply. + +"To discover the truth of the death of Christine Manderson." + +"The truth is discovered," returned the inspector, looking down at his +papers. + +"The truth is _not_ discovered," said Monsieur Dupont. + +"It is a perfectly clear case," the inspector retorted. "There cannot be +the smallest doubt that Layton killed her." + +"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." + +"I am satisfied," the inspector said shortly. + +"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." + +Inspector Fay looked at him steadily for a moment. Then he turned back +to his desk, and locked up his papers. + +"I will come," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +ETHICS OF KILLING + + +They swung out from Scotland Yard into Whitehall. + +"What has happened?" the inspector asked. + +Monsieur Dupont leant forward, controlling his excitement with an +effort. + +"_Mon Dieu_," he said, "I wish I knew!" + +He took the telegram from his pocket. + +"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." + +"Well?" said the inspector--"why not?" + +Monsieur Dupont brought his hands together impatiently. + +"Why not? There are a thousand reasons why not. But the reason why...." + +"Is it an extraordinary thing for a man to open his windows, paint his +house, and straighten his garden?" + +"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...." + +He broke off, and began to smooth out the telegram on his knee. + +"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 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." + +"Disappeared?" the inspector exclaimed. + +"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." + +Inspector Fay began to show more interest. + +"They will be wanted for the inquest," he said sharply. + +"If we do not find them in time for the inquest," Monsieur Dupont +returned, "there will be two inquests to hold." + +"Two inquests?" the inspector echoed. + +"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." + +"What does it mean?" the inspector asked, handing it back. + +"It means," said Monsieur Dupont slowly, "that we shall be lucky if we +find Tranter alive." + +"Where can they have gone?" + +"I do not know. I can only guess--and if I have not guessed rightly, we +shall not see him again." + +"Are you telling me," the inspector demanded, "that Copplestone killed +the woman he had just become engaged to?" + +"I shall tell you who killed her within twelve hours," Monsieur Dupont +replied. "I will tell you why she was killed now." + +He paused. + +"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?" + +"It was obviously done in the madness of jealousy and revenge," replied +the inspector. + +"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." + +The inspector stared at him blankly. + +"Hated her beauty, and not her...?" + +"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 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." + +"I remember the case," said the inspector. "It was a ghastly affair." + +"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." + +The inspector's attention was rivetted. He remained silent. + +"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 of money she carried had remained untouched. The crime +was never solved." + +His voice had sunk lower. He had dwelt on each detail with impassive +deliberation. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I do," replied the low voice. + +"And Christine Manderson here three days ago?" + +"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 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." + +There was something of awe in the silence that followed, like the hush +that succeeds the passing of a storm. + +"My friend," said the inspector slowly, "what utterly monstrous thing +are you telling me?" + +Monsieur Dupont turned to him a face of massive innocence. + +"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 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." + +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. + +"But the monstrousness of this case is not 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----" + +"What in the name of all that's unholy," gasped the inspector, "are you +going to say next?" + +Monsieur Dupont leant forward as the car stopped, and opened the door. + +"Next," he replied gravely, "I am going to inform you that we have +arrived at Paddington, and request you to get out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +MONSIEUR DUPONT'S TASK + + +He bought the tickets, and conducted the inspector to a train. + +"Where are we going?" demanded the bewildered officer, as Monsieur +Dupont settled himself in a corner, and produced his cigar case. + +"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." + +Fortunately they had the carriage to themselves. Monsieur Dupont smoked +in silence for some minutes. + +"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 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. + +"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, +perseverance, and imagination slowly conquered. Step by step the years +were overcome. With the aid of a small army of assistants, I succeeded +in isolating a certain person. I placed that person beside the dead body +of Colette d'Orsel, and began my pursuit. _Mon Dieu_, 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 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." + +He paused, looking grimly out at the passing scenery. + +"And if I had not sent Tranter to the Crooked House yesterday, I do not +know how I could have succeeded in time." + +He turned abruptly from the window, put his feet up on the seat, and +closed his eyes. + +"I am a little tired," he said. "If you will excuse me, I will take a +nap." + +He slept for an hour. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +The red rear-light of a motor-car appeared at the turn of a corner. +Monsieur Dupont drew a deep breath. + +"_Le bon Dieu_ be thanked!" he muttered. + +The car was stationary and empty. Monsieur Dupont laid a hand on the +radiator. + +"It is hot," he said. "They have only been here a few minutes. Do not +make a sound." + +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. + +"To the back," Monsieur Dupont whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +WHAT THEY HEARD + + +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. + +"Yes," it said, "I am the Destroyer! I was born to kill. It was the +curse of my birth." + +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. + +"You fools!" said the arrogant voice. "What are your laws of Right and +Wrong to me? I _am_ Right and Wrong. What are your Codes of Sin? I _am_ +Sin. Who are you to judge me? Who are you to set your little laws +against My Madness?" + +There was a long pause. Then the voice continued, in a tone of dull +bitterness. + +"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 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." + +The voice settled down into an expressionless monotone, pursuing its +story without emotion. + +"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 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." + +"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." + +"Then I knew there was no escape," the dull voice went on. "The results +of my father's vices and my mother's madness were my inheritance. +God! ... what a legacy!" + +The voice flamed for an instant--then subsided again into its previous +monotony. + +"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." + +Another pause followed the name. The room behind the curtains remained +in tense silence until the voice resumed. + +"I can remember it now--as if it were yesterday. 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 ... she was lying on the ground ... smashed ... my first living +victim." + +The woman sobbed. + +"God forgive him!" she cried. "He was innocent himself. It wasn't really +him...." + +Light footsteps moved across the floor. + +"Let me be," said the voice hardly. "What God does with me is for God to +do. Sit down again." + +The footsteps returned. + +"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 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." + +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. + +"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----" + +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 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE BEAUTY-KILLER + + +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. + +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. + +"Look! Look!" a woman screamed. + +They looked up. + +"My God!" the inspector exclaimed. + +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 light of the moon lit up a face +terrible beyond words in its pride, its sin, and its utter madness. + +"I am the Beauty-Killer! I killed Colette d'Orsel! I killed Margaret +McCall. I killed Christine Manderson...." + +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. + +"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." + +"Let them go," another woman sobbed. "It is the best way." + +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. + +"We must go down," the man's voice said, breaking the silence in an +awestruck whisper. "There is a way round the other side." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +LAST TRUTHS + + +"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----" + +"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." + +"Pardon me," Monsieur Dupont apologized. "I had forgotten. You are in +the house of Doctor Lessing," he inclined himself towards 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." + +He added a high compliment to the inspector's present position and past +achievements, and then turned to Copplestone. + +"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." + +Copplestone was radiant with happiness. Every trace of the old gloom had +left him. He was a new man. + +"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." + +"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 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----" + +"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." + +He sprang up, his face illuminated with all the wonder of his new birth. + +"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!" + +He stared about him, like an intoxicated man. + +"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 giants--" He checked himself abruptly, and +sat down. "Forgive me," he said. "You would understand, if you knew what +I have suffered." + +"I can, for one," agreed the doctor heartily. + +"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." + +He bowed to a gray-haired, grief-stricken woman. There was a pause +before she overcame her emotion sufficiently to speak. + +"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." + +"You did your duty," the doctor said. + +"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 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." + +"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." + +"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 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." + +"It's frightful--incredible," the inspector exclaimed. + +"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." + +"He was looked upon as one of the greatest authorities on finance in the +country," said the inspector. + +"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 to +my little house at Streatham to gratify his madness to destroy." + +She looked round at them defiantly, anger displacing the sorrow on her +face. + +"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." + +"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." + +"It is true," said the woman. + +She drew back in her chair, and pressed a hand to her forehead. + +"That is all I have to tell you," she concluded. + +"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." + +"Yes," she said. + +"I presume that you did so on instructions from Tranter?" + +"Yes." + +"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." + +"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." + +"He knew that it was only you who could give any proof against him?" + +"After forty years," she returned, with a touch of bitterness, "he ought +to have known that I should not betray him." + +"Even if one had told you of those three dreadful crimes that he had +committed, and that an innocent man was accused of the last one?" + +She locked her hands together. + +"Don't ask me," she cried. "I don't know what I should have done." + +"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 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." + +"And my salvation," Copplestone added. + +"There," said Monsieur Dupont, "it passes to you to enlighten me." + +"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." + +"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 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." + +"I have had some experience of that instinct of yours," the inspector +remarked, with a somewhat rueful smile. + +"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 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"But how had you come to believe yourself to be his son?" the inspector +asked. + +"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 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." + +"And with good reason," said the doctor grimly. + +"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." + +"True enough," agreed the inspector. "The heir to a million has been +bought for a fiver." + +"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 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?" + +"No, indeed," said Monsieur Dupont. + +"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." + +"Dreadful!" shuddered the doctor. "It must have been a living hell." + +"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 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." + +"I imagined she would," Monsieur Dupont remarked. + +Copplestone drew a deep breath, and laughed aloud. + +"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...." + +There was a pause. + +"And it was Tranter who killed Christine Manderson...." the inspector +said, almost to himself. + +"It was," said Monsieur Dupont. "He admitted 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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----" + +Inspector Fay took upon himself the continuation of the sentence. + +"Up to a few years ago," he said, "Monsieur Dupont was, under a certain +pseudonym, the most brilliant member of the French Secret Service--and +was, in fact, admitted to have no equal in the whole of Europe." + +"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 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." + +"That is true," corroborated the doctor. + +"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 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." + +"Good God!" Copplestone shuddered. + +"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." + +"Layton will be released with full honors to-morrow," the inspector +said. + +"And I think," added Monsieur Dupont, "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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +CONCLUSION + + +Half-an-hour later, when the doctor's statement had been made, +Copplestone and Mrs. Astley-Rolfe stood together in the flower-laden +garden. + +"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." + +She smiled up at him through happy tears. + +"If I wish it kept!" she whispered. + +"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!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROOKED HOUSE*** + + +******* This file should be named 22820-8.txt or 22820-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/8/2/22820 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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